Page 53 of Playboy’s Purgatory

“Just because I recognize that doesn’t mean I like you or forgive you.” Her tone isn’t vicious, but her words land hard anyway. I try not to let them snuff out the bit of hope I was just coaxing into something more than a spark. “I’m simply acknowledging I don’t have to be a bitch about everything.”

I bark out a laugh and wipe away the ink from her skin. “Fair enough, Cupcake, fair enough.”

Her nose still scrunches up at the nickname, but she doesn’t glare at me.

“Since you know about the town I grew up in, since you live here,” I keep my voice light, “tell me about where you grew up.”

I’m not asking about Lola; I’m asking about the rest of it.

She studies my face for a moment and whatever she sees there has her walls coming down just a little bit. Not much, but enough.

How I manage to keep her talking throughout the rest of the session is a mystery to me. Hopefully, when I see her again, I’ll be able to hold onto some of the ground I gained today. I know I won’t get to keep it all, and will have to work for it again, but it’s okay.

I have the time and I’m learning to breathe through my impatience. Honestly, I fucking hate it. But it’s what I need to do.

When we’re all done and the next appointment is confirmed, she reaches into her bag and pulls out a piece of paper. I don’t know why my hands are shaking as I unfold it, but they are. If Lara notices, she doesn’t call me out on it.

Thankfully.

On the paper is the drawing of an iris and my heart clenches in my chest at the sight of it.

“Vanessa drew it,” Lara’s voice is soft in a way it only is when she talks about her daughter. The fondness there is something I crave. “She meant to show you when you stayed for dinner but got distracted. She made me promise to bring it to you today.”

My neck gets warm as I run my fingers through my hair. I am absolutely not getting choked up while looking at a ten-year old’s drawing.

I don’t even think about it, I roll myself over to the wall and tack it up where I’ll be able to see it all the time. When I roll back and survey the placement, I give a nod of satisfaction. It looks like was always meant to be right there.

When I look over at Lara, she has a look on her face I can’t quite read.

“If I’m lucky enough to get another one, I’ll put it up in my room at the clubhouse.”

“Okay,” Lara’s voice is gentle, almost reverent.

And then she walks out the door. I’m left wondering if she’ll turn me away if I show up at her place with dinner again.

I’m addicted to being around my girls. And they are mine. I just need to earn their trust first.

CHAPTER 13

LARA

When the bell above the door chimes, I look toward it and my stomach flips. Playboy is standing in the doorway holding a take-out bag. Again. This time it has the logo for On Wasted Ridge, the bar and grill the club owns. I’ve been there, but only when Graycie and Opal made me go.

It’s not like you can completely avoid club owned businesses in this town, not if you want to get an oil change at least, but I try to keep my distance as much as possible. Now, I’m not so sure it’ll be something I can do anymore.

Not when Playboy keeps showing up in my life and making himself very known.

Vanessa looks up from where she’s playing on her tablet for a few minutes before I lock the door and shut everything down for the day. The smile that breaks out across her face is blinding when she sees Playboy.

I already know I’m not going to be able to turn him away.

The man is ruthless and diabolical. I can see why people are afraid of the Saint’s Outlaws MC enforcer. Right now, this isn’t about power or territory or whatever else bikers might bicker over. He’s using his skills to launch a full-scale attack on my resolve.

And, maybe, my heart.

I push the thought away because I won’t let myself go down that road. Nope. Not happening.

Even if I do have some very naughty dreams about the man who is currently standing in front of me with a sheepish smile on his face.