Page 18 of I Blame the Club

Is that a curved TV I see?

“I asked you a question.” The brooding man regains my attention and I widen my eyes.

“Did we… fuck?”

The only change in his expression is the slight twitch of his upper lip. I narrow my eyes, daring him to laugh at me.

“No, we didn’t fuck.” Mo’s deep voice sends a chill down my spine.

God, I love a good baritone.

“Did we reenactThe Shining?”

A deep chuckle escapes his throat, and it’s all the motivation I need to try and sit up again. A large hand pushes me back down.

“No, we didn’t. You were beaten by a group of farmers at the gas station just outside of Taber.” He delivers the news in a monotone, as if he’s reporting facts instead of recalling a traumatic experience.

I frown, “Did someone call you?”

Mo shakes his head, “I found you.”

“You found me?”

He nods, “Half-dead next to the gas pump. Not the most comfortable place to stop for a rest.”

My mouth drops open, “Did you just tell a joke?”

A smirk tugs at his ridiculously full lips, “Very observant of you.”

I raise my finger to flip him off only to catch sight of the torn skin hanging off my fingers. Memories come flooding back as I look down at my bare chest and notice the boot-shaped bruises.

My throat starts to close as I struggle to push myself into an upright position.

“I need to leave.”

Mo sighs, making no move to help me, “You're in no shape to leave this apartment. Stay here tonight and I’ll drive you home in the morning.”

“Thanks, but I’d rather not sleep on your couch.”

I bite back a scream when my feet hit the floor. My body feels like it got run over by a freight train.

Or a group of homophobic rednecks.

Taking a shaky step forward, I collapse against Mo when my knees give out.

“Montez.” Mo exhales, his strong arms the only reason I’m not a heap on the floor, “You’ve been through a lot tonight. You're staying here. End of discussion.”

“Always so bossy.”

Ignoring me, he bends down and sweeps my legs out from under me, carefully lifting me off the ground. My head spinswith the sudden movement, so I squeeze my eyes shut and focus on not puking all over my assistant coach.

“You should not be able to lift me this easily. We’re the same height.”

I can barely lift my head as Mo carries me from the room. He chuckles, and if I could move my body, I would put my hand on his throat to feel it.

“Different builds, Montez.”

“Not everyone likes big, buff guys you know.”

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