Page 101 of Blue

Blue didn’t need Angela’s bullshit. They were at the finish line. She had no reason to be there.

Fucking weird—and a bit stalker-ish. Unfortunately, not out of character for Angela.

“Where are we?” Blue asked as the vibration in Mooky’s inside pocket rubbed against his chest.

Great. Club business now, too? Could his night get any worse? He just wanted to go to sleep with his woman. Why was the world working against him?

“Home. Let me get you to bed,” he whispered before giving her a gentle kiss on her temple.

“Hmmm,” she hummed with her eyes still closed.

He’d seen Blue this drunk before. She’d made it to her blackout point. She wouldn’t remember shit. This might be a point in his favor. Especially with Angela’s surprise visit and her lying in wait.

But she might not remember getting her vest. Or their ride—which sucked. How fucked was he to be hoping for blackout right now?

Fucking Angela.

How the hell did she get his damn address, anyway? She wasn’t supposed to come to his place. They set up his mother as their neutral drop off location. This wasn’t a good sign for how things would work in the future. He needed to teach those kids the value of keeping their mouths shut. A conversation for another day.

First things first—he needed to handle tonight.

Luckily, his bedroom was on the first level of the house, so getting Blue settled inside didn’t involve going up a flight of stairs. He half walked, half dragged her from the garage to the bedroom.

He’d wanted to lay her sweetly on the bed.

Blue had different ideas.

She fell like a tree in the forest. Face first onto the bed. Then she army-crawled up toward the pillows. If he wasn’t so fixated on his soon-to-be ex-wife outside, Mooky might’ve been amused, probably would’ve checked out her ass too while laughing his own off. She had a damn fine ass. But his wife had to ruin things. Again.

Soon, this shit would be over and done with. He’d be truly free of her in just a few more weeks. The papers were signed. There was nothing left to discuss. What the hell did she want?

He got Blue’s weird wedge-like shoes off before she kicked at him, narrowly missing his face. After he got her tucked in, he checked his phone.

Well, it wasn’t the club.

Come outside. We need to talk.

Nope. Worse.

He couldn’t abandon Blue in the house. First of all, she’d never been there and was possibly blackout drunk. Which meant she wouldn’t remember getting there. Second, Angela was outside. Yeah, no. Not leaving Blue alone.

Tight-lipped, Mooky considered the text and glanced toward his front door.

Talk? What the fuck did they have to argue about? They’d done all the debating they could do over the last eighteen years.

Vrrr. Vrrr. Vrrr.

The phone vibrated in his hand while he contemplated his response or if he even wanted to respond. He was pretty sure Nate would advise him not to respond.

I’m not leaving until I say what I have to say.

He read the message in the preview box.

Fuck. Goddamn. Bitch. She meant it too.

It wasn’t like he could call the police. He couldn’t have her arrested for stalking or trespassing or anything. And the club didn’t need to get involved.

No.

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