Chapter Twelve

Tracker

 

 

 

 

“You got trouble, brother.”

I turn to see Pres walking toward me.

Fuck, what the hell did I do?

“Seems that a few of the girls ran into Megan on Saturday. Somehow, lunch turned into a conversation about you claiming her.”

Shit.

Pres claps a hand on my shoulder. “Gotta say, doing it without telling her? That shit’s risky. Nikki damn near ripped my balls off and handed them to me when she found out. It all worked out in the end, though.”

He gives my shoulder a squeeze before walking away.

Fuck.

Claiming Megan wasn’t exactly something I planned. I heard some of the guys talking about her; more specifically, about what they’d like to do to her. My blood ran hot and cold simultaneously.

Like fuck they would touch her.

She’s mine, and she’s been mine since the first day that I saw her, and as much as I’ve tried to forget her over the years, Megan has always stayed with me.

I sent a ton of messages over the weekend, without even one response. I’m gonna go out on a limb and say this is why. I walk out to the garage, determined to figure this out with her. I’ve tried to give her time, play the game, but I’m done.

I want her, and I refuse to wait any longer.

It’d be different if she didn’t want me, but I can tell she does. The way her eyes avoid me and look for me at the same time; how her body tenses when I’m close to her, but how she relaxed when I kissed her the other night.

I get to the garage and find it empty.

Strange.

I know she’s supposed to be working right now, and it wouldn’t be like her to just not show up. Something doesn’t feel right.

I get onto my bike and drive to her office, weaving in and out of the cars like a complete dickhead but not giving one single fuck about the horns blaring at me because she can’t hide from me. From us.

I won’t let her.

I do a lap of the parking lot and see her car there. At least I know she’s not home sick. I pull my bike around to the front of the building, parking it under the shade of a large tree directly opposite the main entrance. Walking into her office right now wouldn’t be the smartest thing. For one, I’m so amped up, I’ll probably say or do the wrong thing. I’ll wait until she takes her lunch. Hopefully she’ll leave the office for that.

A thought crosses my mind and a low growl rumbles in my chest. If that douchebag from last time tries to take her again, he’ll be in for a surprise.

Around noon the front door opens and I see her walk out, the wind catching her hair and blowing it up off her shoulders. I stand up and take a few steps toward the door when she looks over her shoulder and laughs. I pause, my chest expanding when the guy from the other day follows her out, his hand resting against her lower back. They walk down the street, him leaning in close when he talks to her, and it takes every inch of self-control I have not to rip his fucking arm off for touching what’s mine.

“Megan.”

She stops dead but doesn’t turn. I catch up to them, staring down the dick, who has turned around and who is still fucking touching my girl.

Megan whirls around, her eyes narrow, her jaw tight.

She’s stunning.

“Ryder, what are you doing here?”

I reach over, throwing the dick’s hand off her, then taking her hand and pulling her to me until our bodies are flush, her front to mine. My hand snakes around her neck, the soft strands of her hair sending shivers up my arm. “I’m here for you.”

Her mouth opens as if she’s about to say something, but then closes. I can see the war going on in her mind.

“Stop fighting this. You and me, we fit. It’s right, and I can't sit around waiting for you to realize it. I know there’s shit we need to work through, but right now none of that matters.” I drop my head, grazing her nose with mine. I don’t want that guy hearing any of this so I lower my voice. “The only thing that matters is the fact that, even after seven years, I still can't get you out of my head. I can't forget the way it felt to have you be mine. I want that again. How about you?”

Her eyes dart around so I drop my forehead to hers, looking down at her, but she won’t meet my gaze. Having her this close—the way she feels, smells—it’s like going back in time. Yes, we’re both older now and I’m sure we’ve changed in ways the other can’t see, but something that feels this right can’t be wrong. Being here with her, the street around us disappears. Nothing else exists except her and me.

I feel her heartbeat against my chest. It’s racing. She can lie to me with her mouth all she wants.

Her body can’t lie.

“Stop thinking. Your head isn’t gonna give you this answer.”

I feel her nod and when I pull back, her eyes are on mine.

“Yes.”

I lean down, pressing my lips to hers, and as she leans into me and my grip on her tightens, I wonder how I lasted seven years without her.