Page 24 of Dash

“No!” He leaned forward and waved a hand at her. “It’s just…I haven’t been single in a long time. Dating…I…you can’t…today. I mean. It’s hard. Women can say stuff, and like, you never know.”

Liz stared at him, unsure how to unpack the word salad or unfinished thoughts he’d just spewed at her. It’d been going well until that point. Now, he shifted nervously and fidgeted with his coffee cup and she didn’t know what to say.

His shifting triggered the urge to put him at ease. However, the thought she’d make some false claim of sexual assault against him overwhelmed that. She wasn’t sure if she should be offended or not. Pursing her lips, she regarded him, wondering if he was afraid of her.

“Am I your first date since your divorce?” The question fell from her mouth before she could think about it. They hadn’t really talked about it.

Sheepishly, he met her gaze, only to quickly divert his eyes and take a large gulp of coffee. Was that guilt? “Yeah.”

She nodded. Okay, fair. Straightening her spine, she considered this. “Well, if it makes you feel any better, I’m just out of a relationship too.”

“How long?”

Doing the math mentally, she decided not to be too exact. “Just shy of a year.”

He lifted his brows. “Oh.” That must have been the wrong answer. “I think I have to admit something.”

This wouldn’t be good. She could tell.

“I’m not divorced yet.” Of course, he wasn’t. “We’re legally separated. It’s coming. It’s been like eight months. We just have to sign the papers.” He spoke fast, as though if he said it quicker, it would somehow make it better. “I mean, it’s really a formality at this point.”

Liz reached for her purse. “Mmhmmm.”

“No, don’t go.”

She stood and just met his eye.

“I know, it’s not ideal, but I like talking to you. You’re so easy to just talk to and I think, I mean, I know. This didn’t go great, but I just, just give me a chance, okay? We’re signing soon.”

She nodded. “It was nice meeting you.”

Liz was going to kill Anemone.

Chapter 13

Dash

Two months later

Meeting with Whiskey outside of club eyes was a goddamn process. He stayed with friends of a Montana prospect in Ohio—a happy coincidence. However, they had to meet outside club territory, and stagger their arrival times. It didn’t help that Clark was always late…even when they told him the earliest arrival time, but expected him at the latest. He’d be late to his own funeral.

The three of them, Dash, Romeo, and Whiskey sat in a vinyl booth of a Waffle House, having breakfast amid the smells of fried food and maple syrup. The sounds of sizzling breakfast meats, clattering forks, and the hum of customers and wait staff around them filled their ears while they sipped their coffees. They didn’t talk because it was morning, and they weren’t morning people. The joint annoyance at having to wait for the president of Ohio was clear.

When Clark finally arrived at the diner, twenty minutes after the time they’d expected him, and forty after they’d told him, they called their little meeting to order.

“How’s it going?” Clark asked after he ordered his coffee.

“Well,” Whiskey groaned as he picked up a piece of bacon. “As a black man hanging around an outlaw motorcycle club, they don’t suspect I have a patch.” He grinned.

“Anyone talking about prospecting?” Romeo asked before forking some pancakes into his mouth.

Chewing his food, Whiskey seemed to consider the question. “I think they’re still feeling me out. They’re more interested in my bike and what I did in the army.”

“Two months. They should be talking about something,” Dash offered as he forked his eggs in agitation.

He wanted to go home. He’d been on edge for two months, he needed to get shit out of his system. There was a munch group in Ohio that met a few towns over from Akron. He’d been toying with the idea of going. Sitting in the mini-meeting with his brothers, talking club business and distracted by his own bullshit, made the need to take care of the itch that much more urgent. The club came first and he couldn’t be distracted by this shit.

“Oh, there’s talk,” Whiskey countered. “It’s just not to me.” He grinned widely.

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