Page 8

8

Reagan

This was a bad idea.

My fingers grip the steering wheel as I stare at the clubhouse in front of me, and I consider turning around and pretending I never had this idea in the first place.

Jesse warned me to stay in the neighborhood—far away from the antics of the clubhouse. Since he knows what happens here, I should probably listen.

Still, I find myself popping open the car door and climbing out. I tell myself it’s because he’s gone so much it’s easier not to rely on him, but there’s a hint of a challenge as my feet find the dirt. While he’s convinced I can’t handle his world, I want nothing more than to prove him wrong.

Besides, how bad could the clubhouse be in the middle of the afternoon? Just because there was a party in full swing the first time I was here doesn’t mean it’s like that all the time .

Tempe has mentioned bringing Austin here on occasion, and Bea makes her dad’s office sound like her own personal play space. It’s enough to give me the courage I need to sling my purse over my shoulder and close the car door behind me.

I’ve made my decision.

Bea needs her favorite doll, and with Jesse away doing who knows what, I’m the best person to get it. Margaret offered to come look for it in my place, but she barely has enough energy to spend time with Bea in the living room today, so I couldn’t ask that of her.

Craning my neck back, I look up at the clubhouse. It’s older than the houses in the neighborhood and probably the first building that was put on this land. I imagine these walls hold history.

Stories that would make me blush.

In daylight, I get a better look at the building than the first time I was here. It’s larger than it seemed in the dark. The siding is sun-bleached, and beer bottles scatter the railing that lines the front. Everything is well-worn and lived in—but solid.

The clubhouse matches the rough desert surrounding it.

Trim a shade of sagebrush.

Wood stained the color of sand.

It practically blends into the scenery from the main gate, and I wonder if that was the point.

The hum of motorcycles fills the silence of the desert with men either coming or going, and I’m so out of place I have to clutch my purse and not think about it as I hurry to the clubhouse door.

I’m almost to it when it swings open, and two women step out, nearly running into me on the porch. Their laughs die on their lips as they pause, skimming me head to toe with smiles that hold more venom than sweetness.

“Hi.” I smile, sounding way too chipper, given the glare the blonde is shooting at me.

Livie always said I was too friendly to people who didn’t deserve it. Too trusting. Too appropriate. Too appeasing.

Too soft.

Nothing like these girls standing in front of me. One is blonde, while the other has fire-red hair that is pulled into a high ponytail. They’re both ridiculously beautiful and curvy, dressed in black and leather.

They’re edgy. Confident.

Everything I’m not.

The blonde takes a step forward, not bothering to fake a friendly smile or school the venom in her tone. “Can we help you?”

She lowers her sunglasses to the bridge of her nose, scanning her narrowed eyes over me. There’s not one hint of the friendliness I experienced with Tempe.

“I’m just grabbing something. If you can point me to Je—Legacy’s office, I’d really appreciate it.”

I’m still getting used to calling Jesse by his club name when I’m not at the house. As strange as it feels on my tongue, I get the impression that’s how they know him here .

The redhead opens her mouth like she’s going to help, but the blonde cuts her off. “The club’s closed right now. Besides, you’re a little too sweet for these guys’ tastes.”

The smile that crawls her lips is pure wickedness as she looks me over again.

“I’m not… that’s not—” I shake my head. “I’m not here for the guys.”

“Sure thing, babe. Either way, you’re going to have to try again another day.”

She refuses to budge, blocking the door, and the constant hum of motorcycles grinds at my nerves. If it weren’t for Bea, I’d turn around and take Jesse’s advice to stay away from here from now on. But I refuse to let this woman bully me when I have just as much of a right to be here as she does. A better one, probably. I’m here for Jesse’s daughter.

“Is Luna or Tempe here?” I think of anyone who might be able to help when these girls clearly won’t. “Or Ghost?”

The blonde’s face falters, and I guess knowing Ghost’s name must have made something sink in.

She opens her bright-red lips to answer, but as she does, her attention moves past me. She pulls her sunglasses off her face, and I realize she’s even prettier than I thought. Especially now that her smile is genuine and not half-scowl.

“I told her no guests right now.” The blonde bats her lashes, talking to someone behind me. “She was just leaving.”

I start to turn when heat envelops me with warmth hotter than the Vegas sun beating down on the desert. A hand plants itself on the center of my back, and the contact steals my breath.

“She’s not a guest. She’s with me.” Jesse’s tone is downright lethal.

I look up as he stops at my side, his hand not leaving my back. But his attention isn’t on me. He’s glaring at the blonde with the kind of irritation that proves I was wrong every time I thought he was angry with me because I’ve never seen his expression quite like this.

“She’s with you?” The blonde’s back stiffens. “I didn’t realize—”

“Move, Reina.” There’s no kindness in his voice.

No mercy.

And she doesn’t hesitate to clear the doorway for him.

Jesse doesn’t remove his hand from my back as he leads me into the clubhouse. He doesn’t explain that I’m his daughter's nanny or try to justify what I might be doing here. And I realize he doesn’t have to. This is his domain, and he owns it with every step.

Once we’re inside, Jesse drops his hand from my back, and I instantly feel the loss of it. But I keep my gaze averted so he doesn’t notice my disappointment.

The clubhouse is quieter today, and the only people hanging around are talking or playing darts.

“Bea left her doll here,” I explain when Jesse hasn’t asked. “She said it’s in your office, and Margaret stayed with her so I could come get it.”

“You could have texted me to let me know.”

“You were working.”

“Doesn’t matter. I told you to text if you needed anything.”

“And interrupt you when I’m more than capable of doing it myself?” I roll my eyes.

“See how well that worked out.” He shoves open a door and waits for me to walk in first.

The room is large, with a wall of heavily tinted windows on one side and a large, solid oak desk in the center. Like Jesse’s house, his office is clean and minimally decorated, apart from one corner of the room bursting with color. There’s a toy chest and a child-size couch, and sitting on one cushion is the doll I came looking for.

“I didn’t need you to save me from those girls.” I walk over and snatch up the doll. “I had it under control.”

“You could just say thank you , Reagan.”

I turn to face him, and he’s leaning against the closed door, watching me. His eyes are burning bright with amusement as he throws my own taunt back at me.

“Thank you,” I concede, even if there’s a bite to it as I roll my shoulders back. “So you’re done with whatever you were doing this morning?”

“I’ve still got some work to finish up. But yeah, I’m done at the shop.” He circles the desk with a smug grin.

“You make your job sound so normal.” I glance around the room, wondering what else he does for the club when he’s not at the shop.

“I was born and raised here. It’s as normal as it gets for me.”

His gaze settles on me again, and I sense him sizing me up because of what I said. Probably thinking that just because he’s used to this place and I’m not that I can’t handle it.

“Stop looking at me like that,” I say after a long pause.

“Like what?”

“Like I can’t take care of myself around here. I’m fine.”

“I’m sure you think so, but you shouldn’t come here without me.” His fingers flex. “And not just because of the girls. But unless you’re taken, the guys will consider you fair game.”

“Even if I’m your daughter’s nanny?”

“Especially then.” His eyes avoid mine like he thinks I won’t catch the flare of jealousy that just flashed in them.

“Are you worried I might get along too well with one of your brothers ?” I tease my lower lip with my teeth, daring him to say I’m wrong.

“Just looking out for you, sweetheart.” His expression has cooled, even as his gaze pauses on the hem of my very short pink dress. “I doubt you can handle what the guys around here are into.”

He might be right, but it doesn’t temper my irritation. I’ve spent my whole life shoved into a mold that crafted what he sees standing here in front of him. I don’t have to stand here and listen to Jesse use it against me. Especially when I’m not as sweet and innocent as he thinks.

Reaching into my purse, I pull out a book and toss it onto the desk beside him.

If Jesse wants to play, fine.

“Another billionaire?” Jesse picks up the book, clearly remembering the title of the last one I was reading.

“Mafia boss, actually. ”

He flips it over. “And being in the mafia is somehow sexy? Have you ever actually been around those guys?”

“Have you?”

When he doesn’t answer, or so much as flinch, I realize he has.

“Oh.” I clear my throat, not sure what to think of the fact that Jesse’s club is involved in anything having to do with actual members of the mafia. “Well, this is fictional.”

“So you said.”

I cross my arms over my chest, and even if he avoids looking at my breasts, I don’t miss him swallowing hard.

“Open to the bookmark.”

“Why?”

“Just do it.” I roll my eyes, and he flips open the book at the bookmark. “Now go back three pages.”

“That’s very specific.” He smirks, and I fight against that little flutter that swivels and swirls in my stomach.

“There’s a point. Read from the top of the page.”

“You want me to read your ridiculous mafia romance?” His eyebrow hitches.

“I can find a motorcycle club romance if that’s more your taste.”

Jesse’s eyes widen. “They actually have that shit?”

I nod sharply, biting back the urge to grin when he turns back to the mafia book instead.

His gaze scans the scene, and I’m tempted to ask him to read it out loud for my own amusement, but when his eyes immediately widen, and he slaps the book shut, his reaction says enough .

“That was fast.” I circle the desk, stepping close to snatch the book from his hands. “Are you embarrassed, Jesse King?”

I’ve positioned myself too close. The air is all leather and allspice cologne.

His shock dissipates, and the power in the room flips as his blue stare bores into me.

I shift back; he leans closer.

He exhales; I inhale.

It’s all too much.

“Embarrassed… no.” He smirks as I feel my cheeks heat. “More like surprised.”

The invisible cord between us is taut. Each retreating step of mine is matched with an advancing one of his.

“So that’s what you read at night, Reagan?” His voice is smooth as honey.

“I was just proving a point. You can’t shock me.” My heart races. “I’m not saying I do that kind of thing.”

Jesse grins. “You don’t do what exactly? Mafia men? All three of them at once? Handcuffs and—”

“Any of it.” I cut him off. And this time, it’s my cheeks that feel like they’re on fire.

While I purposely picked a spicy scene for him to read, I forgot that particular one had so many participants.

Jesse leans closer.

My heart beats like it’s trying to find a path to him through my ribs.

The air is so thick it’s hard to breathe.

Does he sense it?

His lips nearly graze my ear as he leans in and whispers, “Now who’s embarrassed, sweetheart?”

Jesse pulls back, tucking a blonde lock behind my ear. I feel it all the way to my toes, and I don’t doubt he sees me shiver.

I look up at him, still standing in my space. His face hovering. The light overhead sharpens his strong jawline. My mouth dries as his gaze falls to my lips.

Did he start this, or did I?

Does it matter?

“What—” I’m cut off by a knock at the door, and it’s a bucket of ice water dousing the room.

We both step back as the door swings open, and I hurry to grab Bea’s doll before Jesse can stop me.

“I’ll see you back at the house.”

I barely even meet Ghost’s eyes as I push past him. I told Jesse I wasn’t interested in the men here, but it was a lie. My heart is still humming from his whisper, from the smallest graze of his fingers brushing my skin. And there’s nothing good that will come of it.