Page 65 of Misguided
“Basically a week long leg between here and Cali. Make sure we stop off at Lincoln on the way.”
“Sounds like fun.”
I shrug. “Thought it would help give me focus, but then I realized I don’t even know what’s going on with the club at the moment. I mean, aside from me coming home and y’all getting rid of Carlos.” I hang my head, feeling every bit as naïve as I probably appear. “Beth mentioned about getting permission from other clubs to travel through their areas, and it dawned on me that I’d have to ask you guys to do that.” I roll my eyes. “So much for the big surprise then, huh?”
“Why we keepin’ it a secret then?” he asks.
I look over at him, all handsome and innocent with his questions. “Because I’d feel stupid if people knew how long I spent organizing something that’ll never happen.”
He chuckles, reaching out for me. I resist the arm that loops behind me, smiling as he tries to tug me closer.
“Come here, woman, before I have to make sure you fuckin’ submit.”
“And how you going to do that?” I ask, wriggling to stop him dragging me over his lap.
Thick fingers dig in under my ribs as he tries to tickle me. “Like this.”
“Ow!” I shove his hands away. “If that was supposed to make me laugh, you failed miserably Mr. I’m-too-rough-with-my-hands. But I give in. You’ve still won.”
He smirks as I turn and straddle his legs, placing my hands on his shoulders. “Now what?”
“Now you tell me what will make you let all this bullshit about provin’ yourself go, and be happy.”
I let my head drop forward and rest it on his shoulder, breathing in the familiar comforting smell of leather and road dust. “I wish I knew. I honestly feel so stupid, Dog.”
“Hey.” He threads a strong hand through my hair, holding me close. “We aren’t all born knowing exactly what we want to be, Mel. Some of us have to try and fail a hundred times before we figure it out.”
“That’s just it,” I say, sitting up straight again. “I don’t even know what to try to even have a chance at failing at it.”
“What do you love?”
This right now. “I’m not sure.”
“What warms your chest?” he pushes.
You. Damn it all. He’s crept under my skin, got to me without having to try. I never stood a chance.
“You can tell me,” he coaxes, ducking his head to level our gazes.
I let a small smile tug at my lips as I peek out from under my lashes. “I keep thinking about you. You make me happy, warm my chest.”
He blinks and I swear to God the echo of silence as I wait for his answer deafens me. “Wasn’t expectin’ that.” His lips turn down. “But I like it.”
I’m hit with the urge to get off him, to put space between us until my embarrassment fades. How is it he always manages to reduce me to this blithering girly mess?
“Don’t get shy on me, babe.” His hands find my face, and he massages my neck with his fingertips. “I can’t do much if you don’t tell me how you feel, can I?”
“I guess not.”
He chuckles, the sound warm and inviting. “We both knew this ‘we’re better off as friends’ bullshit wouldn’t last, hey?”
I laugh too, sighing a, “Yeah,” as I lean into his hold.
His eyes fix on mine, the truth in the gentle swirl of his fingers as he leans a tiny bit closer, as his breathing quickens just the slightest.
“Hate to break this up, guys …”
Damn it!