Page 18 of Love Gamble

“No,” is all he says, but I don’t miss the tightening of his jaw.

“Great chat,” I mutter, leaning back in the chair and wondering if it’s serious with this girl. Should I be writing him off completely? Why am I even thinking of that?

Shit.

I think I need to admit to myself that I’ve always thought that somewhere down the line, when the timing was right, Damon and I would put all of our bullshit aside and be together.

But what if this woman is his “one,” just like he’s mine?

What if he marries her?

After a long stretch of silence, he places a plate down in front of me with four perfect rice paper rolls and a delicious-smelling satay sauce. “What’s wrong? You look like you ate something sour.”

“I thought about something sour,” I reply, my gaze still on the food. “Thank you, this looks amazing.”

“You’re welcome,” he says, sitting down next to me. He picks one up and takes a bite, and I don’t know how he manages to make that look attractive, but he does.

We eat in silence, and although I’d never state this out loud because it sounds fucking creepy, I could watch him all day.

And not just because he’s a literal walking Greek god, but also just the way he moves, the way he chews.

Fuck.

I need to get out of here and go home.

“I never knew you could cook,” I comment offhandedly.

He grins, his dimple popping up. “I’d hardly call this cooking.”

“You know what I mean,” I reply, rolling my eyes. “Most of the men I know are pretty used to women doing things for them.”

He pauses for a moment, as if considering his words. He then says, “I grew up in foster care after my mom died, so I’ve had to be pretty self-sufficient my entire life. I can look after myself well enough.”

Bella mentioned this to me, but I’ve never heard it from him before. And I like that he’s opening up to me.

“What about your dad?” I ask, saddened at the thought of his losing his family and having to grow up in the system. I can only imagine how hard that would have been. I didn’t always have the best childhood, but I did have my brothers, who have always loved me unconditionally.

“Never met him,” he explains, shrugging. “And no siblings that I know of. I mean, I probably have some out there.”

So he was alone. “You joined the Angels pretty young, didn’t you?”

He nods. “I was barely eighteen. I met Julianna’s father, Paulie, at a restaurant one day—I was there applying for a job. We got talking, and when he heard my story, he took me in. The MC has been my family ever since.”

“Well, I’m glad you have all of us now,” I say, trying to lighten the mood. I reach out and touch his hand quickly, then sit back and pick up my plate.

When I look back at him his eyes are locked on my exposed wrist. I know what he sees, and I know what he’s thinking.

But there’s no judgment in his gray eyes, only pain.

For me.

“I’m okay,” I say, though I’m not sure why. Maybe because I just don’t want him to think I’m in that place anymore, because I’m not.

I wish he didn’t know this about me at all, but the scars are there like proof etched into my skin forever.

I’m an open book, but I’m on a different chapter now.

The air suddenly thickens as we are forced to silently acknowledge the vulnerability, heat, and connection between us.

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