Page 23 of Rook

Unexpectedly, though, the thought of him with a woman flashed in my mind. And that mental image made my belly feel weird and wobbly.

What the heck was that about?

“Alright,” Rook said, coming in with a few bags. “You gave me no direction with the contacts thing, so I got you one that matched your hair,” he said as he set the bags on the counter, then dug around for the contacts case. “You also didn’t tell me what kind of tampons, so you have a multi-pack. Maybe you should take a few out and stash them at the clubhouse.”

His casual indifference to feminine hygiene products was kind of refreshing. I was so used to men who crassly told the rest of the bikers that so-and-so was ‘on the rag’ and made comments about how she was only good for ass-fucking or blowjobs for a week.

“Oh, and I got these,” he said, producing a pack of makeup wipes. “I know you’re not wearing any now, but you had makeup on last night. And if you were crashing here, I figured you’d want to wash that off before bed. What?” he asked, making me realize I was watching him with narrowed eyes.

“I thought you said you aren’t, like, a relationship guy.”

“I’m not.”

“Then how are you thinking about this kind of thing?” I asked, grabbing the bag of makeup wipes.

“Oh, the club girls, I guess. Meaning the ‘old ladies,’” he said, using air quotes, “and the hang-abouts. Someone is always asking about makeup wipes.”

And he—marvel of all marvels—listened.

It was kind of like remembering how I liked my coffee. And picking a contacts case in a color he thoughtIwould like instead of what he liked or what was cheapest.

It was weird, and I had no idea how to navigate someone who gave a fuck about what I liked or wanted.

“You alright?” Rook asked, watching me.

“What? Yeah. Sorry. I think I need coffee.”

“Coffee here isn’t as impressive as the clubhouse. Wanna head back? We can get the meeting with everyone over with so you can settle in.”

And order office supplies.

Which was maybe the most exciting thing I had planned in years.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Tessa

The meeting went nothing like I expected.

First of all, I was included in all of it. Which was weird as hell.

In my experience, church only ever involved the bikers. The club girls and even the old ladies were kicked out.

But when we’d arrived and I started to excuse myself after the introductions, Rook threw an arm across my shoulders and pulled me back. “You’re staying.”

“It’s okay if you want to talk in private.”

“Don’t be silly. They’re discussingyou,” Nyx said, shaking her head. “You should be here.”

Not all of the old ladies were around. It seemed like several of them were busy raising babies, so they were at home doing bath time and bedtime stories.

Nyx was there, of course, as was Riff’s girl Vienna, who was as shy as Rook had told me. Then there was Sway’s girl Murphy—the weapons designer—who had said her hellos, but then informed everyone that she had a project to get to and disappeared.

Detroit’s woman, Everleigh, was apparently on her way back to the clubhouse after a yoga class.

It was kind of a small club, now that I got to see all the men gathered. There were only ten of them, all in all. And only three of them—if we weren’t counting Rook—were single.

I guess that was why there was more of a family vibe than a brotherhood vibe between everyone.

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