Page 71 of Nave
Or so he thought.
She probably felt like she had to look at every man like he was potentially just wearing the mask of kindness and care, looking for any possible cracks in the veneer, any proof that her worst fears might be realized.
She had to worry about the baby now too. About what situations she was getting him or her into.
I couldn’t take it personally.
And, hell, even if I was taking it personally, I couldn’t really blame her for looking at what I brought to the table and being unsure.
She met me when I’d been doing illegal shit for shady people. She found me again as an arms-dealing biker. I represented danger as much as safety. And as much as I knew I had everything I needed, an outsider wouldn’t see what I had to offer.
Just a room at a clubhouse. No home base of my own. A history of partying and casual sex.
Not exactly a poster forBoyfriend of the Year. And damn sure not father material.
She couldn’t know what I knew about the men in this club. About how, yes, they lived and partied and fucked around hard. But when they found their woman, their loyalty and devotion were absolute. There wasn’t a bad husband or father in the bunch.
“That’s a serious fucking look for eight in the morning.” Fallon came into the kitchen, making a beeline for the coffee pot.
“You’re here early.”
“I got a kid who fucking volunteered to work at Hailstorm this summer. Guess who gets to drive them all the way up there every morning.”
“At least you know you don’t have to worry about them there.”
“That’s true,” he agreed, turning with his cup to look at me. “So, what’s with the lines?” He gestured to his own forehead.
“What real estate agent did you use to get your place?”
“Ah, I get it,” he said with a dry laugh.
“Get what?” I asked, feigning ignorance.
“Oh, fucking please. You might have been gone for a while, but I grew up with your ass, remember? I know how you think. And right now, you’re thinking you got a pretty thing with a bun in the oven and nothing to offer her but a windowless room in a clubhouse where no one goes to sleep until sun-up.”
“Alright, maybe you do know how I think.”
“This ain’t my first rodeo. Been watching you fucks stumble and fumble around when the right woman comes around for years now.”
“Says the man who nearly went to war with the woman who became his wife.”
“Shit,” he said, a smile spreading, eyes going far away. “Those were some wild times, man. You missed some good shit, being away. But I guess you’d never have met that girl if you’d kept your ass here.”
I’d never thought of that.
Fate, it seemed, had really fucking good planning.
My stomach clenched at the idea of Lolly still being in that glass house. Alone. Scared. No hope of escape.
How the fuck would someone like Ben even handle the idea of a pregnancy? I was damn sure he didn’t want a kid. Too messy. Too germy. Too uncontrollable.
There was no way he’d have let her keep it.
And, clearly, despite everything, she wanted the baby. She’d escaped hell to give it a chance at a normal life.
“I’ll go back through my shit and figure out who the agent was,” Fallon said, pulling me back to the present. “It’s a shit time to buy. Prices are through the fucking roof. But I think it’s about time you get your own place. Getting old, man.”
“Says the guy I just heard talking about the weather and the condition of the roads. You start bird-watching, and I’m gonna be worried, man.”
