Page 46 of Goose

“He did.”

“I’m sure he thought you’d enjoy it. Put your touches on it and stuff.”

I grinned. “I’m sure you’re right.”

“I’m not feeling wine tonight,” she said. “Do you want a beer?”

“I’ll have one.”

She handed me a can of beer. “There’s no bottles in there. I thought you hated cans?”

“They were on sale,” I said, even though they weren’t. “It was simple matter of economics.”

She opened the beer. “I have a few questions.”

“I’ll do my best...”

She took a sip. “Why are you single?”

“You said when we met that you were a thief,” I said. “Are you?”

Her brows went together. “Why would you ask me that? Why now, when I’m trying to ask you about being single? Why change the subject, again?”

I wanted to be able to tell her the truth. How a relationship couldn’t coincide with the secrecy required in the club. How I’d tried it once, and that it—and I—had failed.

It came to me that Baker’s Ol’ Lady, Andy, was present when the cop was killed. Her knowledge of that particular crime could be far more harmful to the club than any other crime we’d committed. I wondered how much Baker told Andy, and promptly decided he told her everything.

I looked at Ally.

I simply didn’t trust her enough to tell he the truth.

Yet.

“I want an answer on that before I answer you,” I said. “I’ll answer, your question, I promise. I’m trying to decide how to word my response.”

She scoffed. “You’re trying to decide whether or not you can trust me.”

“Why would you say that?”

“Because, it’s true.” She nodded toward my waist. “You crossed your legs, one knee over the other. That’s a sign you need privacy. You’ve blinked about ten times since I asked you that question, which means you’re uncomfortable. You can trust me. Tell me whatever it is you’re worried about. I’m an adult who cherishes what we have. I wouldn’t jeopardize this—or my reputation—by being untrustworthy.”

“I cross my legs all the time,” I argued. “I’m sure the pollen in the air is contributing to my eyes—”

She stood. “Take me to my car.”

“Excuse me?”

“My car. The VW? Take me to it. If you can’t trust me enough to tell me the truth, there’s no need on continuing. If you were nothing more than a penis to me, I wouldn’t give a shit. But, you’re more than that. I actually like you. So.” She folded her arms over her chest. “Tell me whatever it is you’re worried about or take me to my car.”

“It’s downstairs, remember? You drove here. Before you stomp off, you didn’t answer me, either,” I said. “Are you a thief?”

She sighed. “I’m sorry I got angry.” Her shoulders slumped. “Give me a hug?”

I stood and opened my arms.

We hugged. She held me as if she never intended to release me. I swayed back and forth on the balls of my feet, savoring her jasmine perfume. Then, she broke our embrace.

She took a few steps away from me, eyeing me as she did so.