Page 34 of Taming Bull

“You mean terrifying.”

I chuckled. He wasn’t wrong.

“I don’t think I’ll be hittin’ the Copper Penny again until after she goes on maternity leave.”

“That’s probably wise. She might try to sacrifice you to Zuul.”

He turned his attention back to me, and I could see the shadow of my long-lost friend in the quirk of his lips. “You were thinking Ghostbusters, too?”

It was almost like I had my friend back. Grinning, I replied, “Of course. That was classic Gatekeeper. If I could figure out how she channeled demigods like that, I could make Burger Villa serve breakfast again.”

His eyes widened. “Burger Villa stopped serving breakfast?” At my nod, he added, “But what about their amazing sausage bagels?”

Glad someone had finally validated my previous outrage on the subject, I shouted, “Yes! Thank you.”

“Why would they do that? That’s horrible.”

This was exactly why I needed Bull in my life. He got me, like nobody else in the world. We stood in silence for a moment, just staring at one another. I wondered if he was thinking the same thing. Maybe not. Before our last fight, I would have sworn I knew more about him than anybody, but he’d never told me about Amber. I couldn’t help but wonder what other big secrets my bestie was hiding from me.

Also, I felt Amber’s presence. She’d been along for the ride the whole time, like some third wheel I hadn’t known was there, but kept pulling us out of alignment every time we made progress. If we had any chance of moving forward, we needed to come up with a plan to cut her loose.

“We need to talk. Wanna go somewhere quiet?” Bull asked.

Exactly what I was thinking. He often said I wore my thoughts and opinions all over my face, but his ability to read me could be downright creepy sometimes. I nodded. Butterflies erupted in my stomach, and my heart leapt at the realization I’d finally get a chance to bridge this chasm between us. Knowing I wouldn’t have to plead my case in front of the entire club only sweetened the deal. “Sure.”

Before he could change his mind, I grabbed his hand. Although he’d slid his into mine earlier, I half expected him to pull away, but he didn’t. If we were going to finally talk about this thing between us, I wanted that discussion to take place someplace with a door we could lock. A bed would be nice, too, in case Bull was ready to admit to how wrong he’d been and beg me to forever be his. Preferably with his face between my thighs.

Hey, a girl can dream.

Scurrying up the stairs while trying to tamp down my excitement and force my feet to slow, I tugged him along. I’d never been in Bull’s room before. Sure, I’d tried to weasel my way in a few times, but he was kind of old fashioned, and didn’t want people sullying my good name. Or maybe his? It was part of that southern charm Carly had mentioned. As far as I knew, no girls but Lacy had ever seen the inside of his room, and she wasn’t in there long enough to even tell me what it looked like. Regardless, I knew right where it was. I marched us in and closed the door before he could come to his senses and kick me out. Hitting the light switch, I spun around to take it all in.

The room was bare.

There was no overhead light. Instead, the switch had turned on a small lamp on Bull’s dresser. It cast the sparse room in a dim glow. I don’t know what I’d been expecting, but the only personal touch Bull had added was a framed picture of his family that perched on the nightstand. His bed was made and tucked tight, complete with hospital corners. Everything was clean, in its place, and completely devoid of character. His sliding closet door was closed, but I’d bet both my big toes his clothes were hung, all facing the same direction, and in order by color. As if he owned anything other than black T-shirts and jeans. I’d never seen the inside of a military barracks building, but if there were individual sleeping rooms, they’d look exactly like this.

Temporary.

Borderline sterile.

It made me strangely sad. Bull had been with the Dead Presidents for two years, and as far as I knew, he had no intention of leaving. So, why was his place so barren?

“Where’s all your stuff?” I asked.

He swept a hand around to encompass the entirety of the room. “You’re lookin’ at it. I don’t need much.”

But what about the belongings he’d acquired growing up? Before Stocks and Monica had taken over the shelter, I kept all my worldly possessions in two bags that I could easily carry, knowing that at any moment I might have to find somewhere else to crash, but Bull has never known the uncertainty of being homeless. He went from his childhood home, to the Navy, to the fire station. He could have had his belongings shipped up from Texas, but maybe he didn’t want any reminders of his old life.

While I pondered his motives, he wandered over and sat on the bed absentmindedly.

Wanting to comfort him, to let him know I understood the pain and loneliness of an empty room, I locked the door.

His brows rose. Gaze drifting from the doorknob, to me, and then to the bed, he sprang to his feet. The sight was comical, but I forced myself not to laugh. “We… we shouldn’t be in here,” he stammered.

I leveled a stare at him. “Yes, we should. We’re both adults, and we need to have an uninterrupted conversation.” And if our chat happened to end up horizontal, I, for one, wouldn’t object. And I sure as hell didn’t want anyone busting in to stop us.

His nod was skeptical at best, but he gestured toward the sofa. “Have a seat.”

The bed looked a hell of a lot more comfortable, but just making it into his room seemed like a big step. I relented and sat on the sofa, hoping to make him more at ease.

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