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I turned toward the stove, my back facing Tarzan to hide my grimace. Were we really that obvious?
“You’re a smart woman,” Tarzan added, softening his tone. “And this kid…he’s not good enough for you.”
I didn’t respond, idly poking the sausages around the pan. Tarzan was simply looking out for me like he always did, and I was grateful for that. Besides, I knew Diablo was…complicated, to say the least.
On the other hand, I wasn’t asking him to marry me or anything. It was just sex.
“I’m a big girl, Tarzan,” I replied gently. “I can handle myself.”
“I never said you couldn’t. We’re trying to make peace with his club, Stevie. Do you really think climbing into bed with him won’t cause more problems?”
I clutched the spatula tighter. Maybe sex with Diablo wasn’t the best decision I’d ever made, but it was still my decision.
“You boys have made plenty of questionable choices when it comes to the ladies you spend quality time with,” I said. “And I never say a word. It’s hardly fair to put me on trial.”
“I won’t bring it up in front of the club. You know that.”
“Good,” I replied, turning to look at him with a hot stare. “Because if you did, we would need to have a discussion about rank and the consequences that come with questioning authority.”
Tarzan said nothing. An uneasy silence hung in the air.
Damn it.
I faltered, sinking back against the counter. A pit of guilt opened in my stomach. I shouldn’t have said that. Pulling rank on Tarzan when he was just worried about me was a shitty move.
“I didn’t mean—”
Tarzan lowered his gaze, folding the newspaper closed.
“Yes, you did. And you’re right.”
No. No, I’m not right, I wanted to say. I was a bitch and I’m so sorry.
Tarzan pushed his chair back and rose to his feet. Picking up his mug, he moved to the sink—only five feet away from me—and poured the rest of his coffee down the drain. After washing out his mug, he dried it and set it back in the cupboard.
Judge returned to the room, tucking his shirt back into his jeans.
“I’ll look after those sausages now, Stevie,” he said. “You go on and finish your breakfast before it gets cold.”
I glanced at Tarzan, cursing myself for the tension that still lingered in the room. My appetite was suddenly gone and the thought of eating a full breakfast made my stomach recoil. I took my seat at the kitchen table anyway.
As Tarzan moved past me, he placed a hand on my shoulder and lowered his mouth to my ear.
“I don’t want to see you get hurt because of him. That’s all.”
Then I watched as Tarzan’s broad-shouldered figure walked out my door.
***
After Judge and Tarzan had left, I threw myself into my work. Painting and painting until well into the afternoon without stopping. My back ached from hunching over my work. I took a brief moment to flex my fingers, relieving the cramps in my hands from holding the paint gun for so long. Sweat slicked down my back, soaking my tank top until the fabric stuck to me like a second skin.
Despite my conflicted feelings about my conversation with Tarzan, I knew he had a point. Diablo was a disaster waiting to happen. It was only a matter of time before he blew up in my face. Whether my body craved more of him or not, I had to delete his number and close that door for good.
The crunch of wheels on gravel announced a surprise visitor. I straightened to a standing position with a groan, stretching out my back and shoulders. I didn’t recognize the white SUV pulling into my driveway, and the windshield was tinted too dark to see the driver.
Prospective clients often dropped by to talk in person rather than over the phone. Or they wanted to see my work up close instead of simply on my website. After the car came to a stop, the driver climbed out, revealing a gray-haired man in jeans that were too clean and a crisp white shirt. He flashed a dazzling smile in my direction as he approached.
“Good afternoon, mademoiselle.”
