Page 415 of Devil’s Disciples

“I’m not.”

I picked at my sandwich’s crust. “Sounds like it.”

He set his cup aside. “I’m going to be in that club. It’s part of who I am. I don’t need you in it. If you are, great. If you’re not, the club get by. We’d be much better with you, I know that much. I’d just hate to see you give up.”

He could have said a lot of things. Suggesting that I was giving up wasn’t what I wanted to hear. It hinted at failure. I wasn’t a failure. If walking away from the club was required for me to succeed in life, I’d walk away. I’d succeed. My successes, however, wouldn’t be club related.

“Maybe I didn’t do a good job of explaining myself,” I said. “Let me rephrase it. Right now, nothing’s more important to me than making sure whatever it is that you and I have succeeds. Everything else is secondary. The club creates tension. That tension comes home with us. I don’t like it. The tension’s got to stop, or our relationship’s going to suffer. So, either the tension stops, or I walk away from the club.” I did the biker thing and crossed my arms over my chest. “Now, why’d you punch Cash?”

His mouth twisted into a smirk. “To relieve tension.”

“Bullshit. Here’s your second chance,” I said. “Why’d you punch Cash?”

His gaze fell to the coffee cup. “I really don’t want to tell you the specifics.”

“Well. Tough shit, mister. I want to hear them. We’re being honest with each other, remember?”

He looked up, but not at me. He let out a sigh. “He called you a bitch.”

My heart fluttered. Having a man stand up for my honor was flattering. Having Goose stand up to Cash for my honor was heart-warming. “Really? You punched him because he called me a name?”

He nodded. “I did.”

“Thank you.”

His eyes narrowed slightly. “You’re not mad?”

“Heck no. I’m flattered.”

“Not at me,” he said. “At him.”

Getting mad at Cash for being a dick was like getting angry at a dog for barking. “No. I’m not mad at him. I’m disappointed. There’s a difference. My point a few minutes ago was this: I don’t have to put up with it. That’s my choice.”

“Understood.”

“Now,” I said. “What did you want to say about our relationship?”

“What do we have right now?” he wagged his finger back and forth, between us. “This. What is it?”

For me to have a man in my life on a permanent basis required a long list of boxes to be checked. Attractive. Fearless. Witty. Willing to stand up for himself. Eager to take risks. Picks up after himself. Decisive. Has hobbies other than going to the bars. Wants me for more than a place to poke his dick. Lastly, but most importantly, he had to accept me for who I really was.

Goose checked them all.

I fell head over heels for Goose the evening that he kissed me on the roof. But, our relationship was nothing more than what it was. Putting a label on it would be impossible.

I looked him in the eyes. “I don’t make assumptions, and we haven’t discussed it, so I’m sure this isn’t what you want to hear.”

His face washed with worry. “Go ahead.”

I drew a breath of hope. “Well, we became friends, I guess. We had sex. You invited me to sleep here. I agreed. So, I guess I’m kind of a convenient piece of ass.”

His eyes went wide. “That’s what you think you are?”

I laughed. “It’s what I am.”

He scowled. “You’re more than that to me.”

I was elated that he felt I was more than a convenient piece of ass. I liked thinking I was more than that, but he’d said nothing to lead me to believe otherwise. In the absence of that declaration, I was left to make my own decisions about what it was that we had.