Page 47 of Razor
“Problems?” Wraith asked quietly as Razor stripped off his glove and drew on a fresh pair.
Razor gave a small shake of his head and changed the subject to protect his Little girl’s privacy. “Let’s get Caroline checked out so she can recover quickly.”
Chapter 15
Honey stared at the dark phone screen in her hand. She shook her head to clear her imagination of what was happening in the exam room right now. Caroline was perfect—healthy, young, and so adorably curvy. She didn’t have bruises from falls, nor was she stuck wearing a wrap around a hurt ankle. And her future? It had to be a lot more promising than Honey’s.
A sick feeling grew in the pit of Honey’s stomach. She liked Caroline. The romance author had welcomed her eagerly. Honey didn’t doubt how much the other woman loved Wraith. She could sense the strong emotions tying them together. They were a storybook couple.
But other women he treated? Would they tumble into love with the charismatic, handsome-as-hell doctor as quickly as Honey had?
“Razor didn’t fall for any of them before he met you!” Honey reminded herself aloud.
Even as her words faded from the air, Honey didn’t know that. Maybe he’d pursued a line of women before her. What would make Razor decide he was her Daddy? Why had he chosen her over other women? Unless…. Maybe he enjoyed having a sick partner—someone he could take care of.
“Razor’s not like that,” she announced. “He likes me because I’m me. Not because I have an illness.”
Or did he?
A sudden movement outside caught her attention. A white chicken with tufts of feathers decorating its small head stood on the outer sill of the window, peeking in at her. She’d already spotted the fluffy creature and its companion in Razor’s backyard. They enchanted Honey as they strutted their stuff.
This time the creature’s beady eyes stared at her as if she was the strange addition to this community. Honey swallowed hard. Would she ever truly belong in the Devil Daddies’ compound? Everyone was always pleasant to her, but….
Doubts and worries flooded her mind. She didn’t want to impose on anyone. Would the other MC members feel saddled by her presence in the compound?
Honey pushed the soft blanket from her lap. Her fingers lingered on the Devil Daddies MC logo. This had seemed like home. Everyone had welcomed her and been so nice because of their friendship with Razor. They didn’t know her. Not really.
She needed to get out of here. Honey maneuvered herself onto the wheeled knee scooter and navigated to the bedroom. Where had Razor put her luggage? Maybe in the closet?
Gliding inside, she spotted the two suitcases on the top shelf. Honey grabbed a handful of the clothes hanging on the top rack and used her grip on the material to steady herself as she rose onto the tiptoes of her good leg.
“Oh!” The scooter bucked underneath her as she overbalanced. Quickly, she stabilized herself by grabbing the handlebars and breathed out a heavy sigh of relief. That was a close one. She didn’t need to sprain her other ankle.
Manhandling a suitcase wouldn’t work. She turned the scooter around in an elaborate dance of forward and reverse motions in the narrow closet and escaped. So much for taking the clothes in the closet. She’d live without her casual clothes until she could retrieve them.
Back in the bedroom, Honey stripped off the pillowcase and stuffed it full of her panties, bra, and socks from the dresser. She added her nightgown and collected her cosmetics from the bathroom. Flinging the pillowcase over her shoulder, she headed for the kitchen door. A blow from the pillowcase on the keyholder by the entrance to the garage knocked all the keys off. Honey scooped up her car fob before staring at the door.
There was no way for her to get the scooter over the raised threshold. She’d have to leave it here. Abandoning it was best anyway. It had to be expensive. Another MC member or their family might need the rolling device in the future.
“Beatrice!” she remembered as she gathered her courage to stand and walk on her foot. Instantly horrified she’d forgotten her, Honey diverted again and returned to the living room to collect her precious bee stuffie.
“I’m so sorry, Beatrice,” she said, wiping tears from her eyes. “I’m not thinking clearly. You should have been the first thing I grabbed.”
Beatrice studied her with reproachful big black eyes. Honey hugged her close to reassure her longtime friend. “You’re right. That was awful of me. I’ll do better,” she promised. She looked at the blanket and forced herself to leave it. Her heart breaking, Honey swallowed hard, trying not to sob as she turned around.
Scooting back to the door, she carefully tucked Beatrice in with her clothes before pushing the wheeled support away. It rolled to the far side of the kitchen and toppled over. She squared her shoulders and stepped onto her ankle. Instantly, her ankle ached but not so bad that she had to crawl to her car. That was her last resort.
Despite her slow, cautious movements, by the time she reached the vehicle, Honey gritted her teeth from the discomfort. She slid into the seat and tugged the stuffed pillowcase inside. After starting the car, she glanced in her rearview mirror at the closed garage door behind her. Before she could panic, Honey spotted the garage door opener Razor had attached upon her arrival to her visor.
“Thank you, Razor.” He took such good care of her. The ache in her heart multiplied at the simple proof of his thoughtfulness and support.
Honey blinked tears away and pushed the button. As the barrier behind her rose, she opened the car door and leaned over to place the remote on the garage floor. She wouldn’t need it anymore. Better for it to stay here.
She backed up and pulled in front of Razor’s cabin to say her goodbyes to the dream of finding her Daddy. Grief welled up inside her as physically as a lump in her throat. She forced herself to shift into drive and move. A few minutes later, she reached the guard shack.
Searching her brain to remember his name, Honey plastered a fake smile on her face to greet the tattooed hunk who walked out. “Hi! Menace, right? I’m going to run some errands.”
“Aren’t you supposed to rest your hurt ankle?” he asked.
