Page 9 of Bear

“You’re a low-down, dirty snake, Rooster,” I said.

He grinned and pushed away from my car, waving me off.

“Get outta here, Calderon. I have to keep an eye on your little brother and put him to work.”

“Don’t you dare bribe that boy!” I called after Rooster.

He raised a hand in acknowledgement as he returned to his garage.

***

Normally, I would have headed to the clubhouse for the day. But after Rooster reminded me about the charity ride next weekend, my thoughts kept drifting back to the possibility of inviting Shelby. Did I want her there? It would be a glimpse into my life with the club and my place in it. She’d already seen me battered and beaten but she didn’t know that I voluntarily put myself through it on a regular basis. She didn’t know that it was my choice to fight.

I headed back to my apartment. Carlos was in the kitchen, sandwich fixings spread across the counter. He glanced up with surprise.

“You’re home early. Thought you’d be at the clubhouse.”

“Slight change of plans,” I replied as I made my way toward my bedroom.

Thankfully, Carlos didn’t follow and he didn’t ask any questions. I faced my closet, thumbing through the hangers for something that might make me look respectable and decent. I’d already worn the one button-down shirt that I kept for special occasions. There simply weren’t many reasons for me to dress-up. I certainly didn’t need to impress Carlos and Pedro, and my MC brothers didn’t give a damn what I wore. They were always in stained, ripped jeans, and their patched, leather vests.

A loudcrunch-crunchmade me turn toward the doorway of my bedroom. Carlos leaned against the door frame, a sandwich in his hands with a bite taken out of it as he chewed.

“I’ve never seen you fuss about your clothes like a girl before,” he said.

“I’m not fussing.”

Carlos raised his eyebrows and shot a pointed look at my mattress. I’d tossed over half of my closet onto it already. He took another loud bite, swiping away a smear of mustard from the corner of his mouth.

“Looks like fussing to me,” he said.

I let my hands drop to my sides with a look of annoyance.

“Shouldn’t you be applying to colleges? Or getting a job?”

Carlos gave a disinterested grunt and his gaze slid away.

“Don’t change the subject when I’m interrogating you.”

“That’s not an answer,” I countered.

He shrugged. “Don’t go overboard. Just pick something simple - that faded blue t-shirt would work. It’s soft. Fits you well, too. And wear your black jeans.”

I blinked in surprise. “Why?”

“Makes your ass look good. Which means it takes attention away from the fact your face has been through the meat grinder.”

I narrowed my eyes at Carlos.

“You could have said that a little more diplomatically, you know.”

He chuckled as he turned and disappeared down the hallway.

“Where would be the fun in that?”

Grumbling to myself about keeping Carlos in line, I still donned the clothes he’d suggested. When I looked in the mirror, I sucked in a deep breath and let it out. Carlos was right. I looked…softer around the edges somehow. Not by much but it was just enough to make me feel not quite so brutish.

When I emerged from my bedroom, Carlos was seated on the couch in the living room, his feet propped on the coffee table as he watched television. He let out a low whistle.

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