Page 78 of Playboy’s Purgatory

“Have you seen a difference in him?” Her question is honest and comes from a good place, an innocent place.

Since he’s now, somehow, in her life, I owe her a genuine answer. I’ve never lied to her; I just try to meet her where she is.

“I have,” I admit. “He seems steady in a way I didn’t see in him before. I have to wonder if this is the real him, and the version of him we saw before was an anomaly.”

Vanessa nods thoughtfully. “Gramps said something like that. How he was always surprised when he heard about ‘his boy’,” she drops her voice in an impersonation of Rumble,” acting out.”

“I’m just not sure if it’s enough,” I try to explain.

Innocence laces the question, “Do you know what he has to do for it to be enough?”

My head whips around and I stare at my daughter. She giggles at my reaction and looks over at me.

I’m momentarily at a loss for words.

“I, um, I really don’t know,” the words come out weak. I wince a little. “That’s part of the problem.”

Vanessa’s sage nod is filled with understanding. I’m not sure she gets it, but I see no reason to question it.

“If you’re not ready,” Vanessa sighs, “then you’re not ready.”

While she focuses back on the movie, my mind mulls over her words. Is that the problem? Am I not ready?

Or has he not proven it?

I mean, the tattoo isn’t even done, so leaving the past fully in the past isn’t an option until it is. But then what?

Damn it, that’s the hardest question to answer.

Another thing that can’t be ignored is how my body responds to him. Being around him feels like a riptide.

The man is potent.

Don’t even get me started on the piercings. Talk about nirvana. I’ve never felt anything like it, which isn’t surprising considering I’ve never seen dick piercings in the wild before.

I guess it takes a motorcycle club to get that kind of experience. Apparently.

It would be kind of silly to expect that of every biker, but I got lucky with mine.

Mine?

My biker?

Why does that feel so right?

I’m still a mess by the time the movie ends before the rest of the night starts slipping away. I’m trying to focus on my book instead of the questions filling my head, and the memories of how he makes my body buzz from head to toe.

I’m also trying to ignore how Jettson feels like mine.

Nothing good will come from such thoughts. Nothing good at all.

No, I’ll probably just be setting myself up for heartbreak. Maybe with a side of ridicule.

When my phone rings, I almost don’t look at it. Vanessa is asleep down the hall; who would be calling me?

Something pulls my eyes toward it and it’s in my hand before I’ve even decided to look. My breath hitches when I see Playboy calling. I almost don’t answer it, but my hands are possessed.

Possessed!