Page 85 of Gunner

“No. As soon as I saw the bike, I ran.”

“Still don’t want to talk about why?” I asked, knowing if she did, she would have brought it up.

“Nope,” she answered, popping the p at the end.

“What if he was the one?”

“He can’t be. Not if he rides a motorcycle.” Her voice was getting softer. I knew if I didn’t change the subject, she would cut the call, so I let it go.

We talked for an hour about little things. The differences between small towns and big cities. Things that had changed since I left Oklahoma City. Which wasn’t much.

Looking out the window, I noticed the sun had gone down some. It was getting close to dinnertime and Jack and Sam had wanted to share their appointment news with everyone at once.

I said goodbye to my best friend with a heavy heart, just like every time we ended our call. I missed her. I wanted her to move here, but she wanted me to move back there. Neither of us would get our way.

I considered staying in my room, but I wanted to hear about the baby. I guessed they found out the sex of the baby, despite Sam saying they would wait until the birth. She’d said she wanted to be surprised.

Making my way down the stairs, I winced when I heard the booming voice call out, “Where the fuck is my woman?”

Releasing a heavy breath, I sat on the bottom step for a moment, holding my head in my hands. I needed to steel myself against the gorgeous man who insisted on being a pain in my ass. Though, I had to admit, not having to think about breakfast or dinner, and just having a plate of food placed in front of me was something I could get used to.

Giving myself a quiet internal pep talk, I set my hand on the railing and hefted my tired body up to stand. I walked with authority down the hallway, knowing that once I entered that room again, I would have another battle of denying myself the one thing I wished I could be.

Gunner’s woman.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Gunner

“Where the fuck is my woman?”

Every minute away from Haizley felt like a fucking needle under my skin. It was incessant, like a tattoo gun hammering away, injecting its ink to create a work of art. But unlike a tattoo gun, there was no art leftover, only constant pricks of loneliness.

Watching her walk into her room with Derek caused those pricks to flare to the point of madness. Nav’s messages letting me know she was ok and seeing her sitting in the main room reading a book did nothing to temper the jealousy and rage that flowed through my system.

Nothing would, short of touching her, checking her over to appease this need I had inside of me to protect her. That wasn’t strictly true. Putting my fist through Derek’s teeth would go a long way to making me feel better.

As I stared around the room, no one said a word. They got like this sometimes when my anger bubbled to the surface. No one wanted to be on the receiving end of my wrath.

A low growl from under the table caught my attention. Tipping my head to look at the dog, I saw he was different from Maureen’s dog. Where did another fucking dog come from?

“I am not yours.”

The exasperated voice dragged me back from my thoughts and a smile slid across my face. She walked through the room like a fucking ice queen.

Myfucking ice queen.

To everyone else she was friendly and helpful. They all saw her as someone that would do anything for anyone.

I saw the real her. The tired woman who needed someone to take the weight off her shoulders.

That was my fucking job.

I didn’t say a word as I stalked toward her. Reaching out, I pulled her into my arms. One hand around her waist, the other over the back of her head. Pulling her close, I slammed my lips over hers.

I expected a fight.

I expected her to push me off.

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