Page 55 of Jacob

A nervous chuckle bubbled up from her. She couldn’t stop it from escaping. Her cheeks burned as she looked away nervously tucking her hair behind her ear. Getting hit on in a bar like this was expected, especially dressing the way she did.

However, for the first time since she started there, she actually didn’t mind the attention. This guy was kind of hot. She swallowed as her gaze swept him up and down.

Black button down shirt tucked into his jeans. The top two buttons were undone, revealing a crisp white shirt beneath. Motorcycle boots covered his feet and he rolled the sleeves of his shirt up to his elbows. Both of his forearms were covered with colorful fire and dragon tattoos.

He had strong, hard lines to his face and a dimple in his chin. His eyes studied her when she met them again and she cleared her throat. “I don’t give out my number to just any guy who asks.”

He smiled, lowering his gaze for a moment, even dipping his head. “That’s good to know. That means when you give it to me, it will mean more.”

“Ha.” She scoffed unsure how to respond to his confidence.

When he looked back up at her, he wore a playful grin. “Name’s Pipes,” he said, scrubbing a hand at the back of his neck. “And you?”

“Pipes,” she repeated. “How do you get a name like that? You play the bagpipes or something?”

He laughed before he sipped his beer. “Nah. I got a nice set of them.” He said. “I’ll even let you hear ’em if you tell me your name.”

“I’ll hear them just fine when you leave tonight even if I don’t tell you my name.” She countered, unsure why she guarded her name at this point.

Her stomach flipped at the flirty game they played while he laughed.

“Fair enough.” He agreed. “I’ll up my offer.”

“Hmm?” she hummed with an arched brow. He amused her and now she was curious as to what an upped offer from Pipes would be.

“A ride.” He waggled his brows suggestively. “On the bike, of course.” His correction was still laced with innuendo. “One name.” He held up his index finger. “One ride.”

As the memory of their first meeting faded, the heavy sadness rooted within her. He’d been so vibrant and full of life. Once a ball of charisma and charm, and then he met her and she introduced him to this—the club—this life.

She did this to him.

“If I’m going to keep watch, I need coffee,” she announced as she pulled her hand back and pushed off the chair with a groan. Every joint in her body cracked. The hospital chairs had to be the most uncomfortable pieces of furniture in the world.

“Sure.” Mooky’s head bobbed. “Cream, two sugars.” He shifted in his seat as though he were reaching for something.

“I got it,” she said, walking past him and resting her hand on his shoulder. “If you’re babysitting, the least I can do is buy you a coffee.”

Either the hospital was a maze or Sparrow got lost intentionally. When she passed the security desk the third time, she finally asked for a place to get coffee. Thankfully, they had a twenty-four-hour café.

The coffee was horrendous. Bitter with an aftertaste of dishwater. The lack of company and silence was exquisite. She found a small table facing a large window overlooking a quaint courtyard.

Sipping the liquid—which tasted like the state of her hopes and dreams—from the disposable cup, she flinched when her alarm went off. She flipped her phone over to silence it. Slipping one leg over the other, she tilted her head and watched a bird land on one of the branches of a bush in the courtyard.

“What was the alarm for?” he asked.

She closed her eyes and willed herself to wake up. It wasn’t time for fantasies or nightmares. She needed to be in the real world right now and Jacob wasn’t reality. “It doesn’t matter.” She sighed, opening her eyes, looking for the bird but finding the branch empty.

The chair beside her squeaked. The hairs on her arms stood on end and she could feel him beside her—feel his eyes on her, watching her, studying her. Defiantly, stubbornly, or cowardly—she wasn’t sure which—she refused to look at him.

“What was it for?” he pressed with the most gentle of tones.

Focusing on anything but him, she stared into the dark abyss of shit coffee. “My entrance exam was supposed to be this morning.”

The chair beside her creaked. Then hissed. Still, she would not look in his direction. Instead, she busied herself with sipping the putrid coffee. She couldn’t handle looking into those soul-piercing ice blue eyes—not right now, not when Pipes was upstairs recovering.

“Can you do a make-up?” he offered.

“No.” She hadn’t even looked into that as an option. She’d been far too consumed with driving him to the hospital and making sure he lived. Before that, her sole focus had been passing the test. It never occurred to her that she might miss taking it. Perhaps this was a sign. She wasn’t supposed to take that test. She wasn’t supposed to be anything more than club property.

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