Jace takes forever to return my girl. Man must have been a lawyer in a former life because he has a ton of questions. I kill time by wandering around the clubhouse and giving the prospects shit. I load Keelie Sue’s presents into Jace’s truck. I chat up the party guests and host an impromptu samba lesson. I could shoot some pool but I’m fidgety. If I were out in the bayou, I’d shed my human skin and go for a run on all fours, but since Rain doesn’t know about my furry side, that option’s off the table. Standing still’s not my thing, however, so eventually I head to the bathroom, whip out my Sharpie, and amuse myself by drawing caricatures of my brothers on the wall. I’m just finishing up a killer sketch of Jace, when he bangs on the door.

“Coming right out, sunshine.” I draw out the syllables of the last word and then whistle the Mr. Rogers theme song while I consider giving Jace shit about the forty-two minutes he’s been gone. It’s probably not a good idea. I don’t want to push my luck. Even if my bringing Rain here is good for the baby, Jace is strangely particular about felonies and drawing unwanted attention to the club. It’s not that he’s Mr. Law Abiding—he walks on the dark side just as much as the rest of us. It’s just that he plans his shit to maximize the bennies and minimize the penalties. Not that I’d ever admit it out loud, but the pack is better off with him as Alpha.

Jace yanks the door open. “Out.”

I take my time capping my Sharpie and turning around.

“Sometime today,” he snaps.

“Awwww. You missed me.” Since Jace is a big motherfucker, I have to body-check him to leave the bathroom. As my shoulder slams into his, I reach up and pat his cheek. He growls. So much fun. Sure, he punches me in the ribs too, but that’s just a love tap. I barely feel it.

Or maybe that’s because I’m already halfway to the bar. Rain’s there, which makes me a heat-seeking missile coming in for a landing. I half-expected her to flee the scene after she had Keelie Sue settled. It’s not like I’ve made my best impression on her and, in retrospect, forcibly dragging her here was stupid. Since I’m the King of Stupid and should probably make it my official pack, no one is less surprised than me, however, that I’ve done it. Fortunately, my natural charm and pretty face give me a leg up in the damage control department. I move closer and prepare to work my magic.

Rain’s still wearing my T-shirt and her scrubs, a new designer wardrobe having failed to magically materialize. Her hair’s falling out of its ponytail and she has a streak of something on her forearm. For a moment, I worry that it’s blood and that Keelie Sue has finally come apart at the seams or that the baby’s pulled an Exorcist and busted out of her, but whatever the rusty stain is, my nose says it’s neither human nor wolf. She looks tired. As I stare at her like some skill-less creeper, she reaches up, pulls the elastic out of her hair, and redoes the ponytail.

“Earth to Fang.” Jace catches up and smacks me on the back of the head.

And okay, so part of me is noticing that the whole ponytail-making process stretches Rain’s borrowed shirt over her fabulous tits. That’s an amazing view that I’d have to be dead to not appreciate. But I’m not totally a horn dog. I mentioned that Rain looks tired, right? There are faint violet smudges underneath her eyes and her face looks sort of crumpled. I don’t think she enjoyed our sleepover as much as I did. She needs a really good mattress and a nap. I can so help with that.

I take another eager step toward her and Jace bodychecks me. “No.”

I growl, but slow my roll. Another brother offers Rain a chair. She perches on it with a worn-out smile and I wonder if she realizes that sitting down leaves us wolves in the power position. She’s at a disadvantage. She’s not only looking up to us, but she’ll have to waste precious seconds getting to her feet if she needs to run.

I scan the room, looking for threats and spot three. In addition to Jace, Ware’s a disciplined motherfucker who specializes in delivering clubhouse justice. He’s accompanied by Ben, a transplant from a Western pack. He’s the size of a small mountain and he has some good moves. I could take two, but three would be a challenge and keeping Rain safe would require her cooperation. The prospects have vanished, which is a bad sign. Rain is club business now, whether she realizes it or not.

Jace lobs a conversational softball at my girl. “We gotta solve this.”

Rain tilts her head, watching him. She waits him out, however, and doesn’t say anything. Smart girl. She’ll make him fill in the unspoken parts with actual words.

Jace gives her a head tip. He can see how smart she is. “Are we cool or do we still have a problem?”

“A problem?” Rain’s voice is cool, but her gaze bounces around the room now, doing a head count. I think she’s cottoned on to her situation, stuck in a biker clubhouse with a bunch of big guys who rock at keeping secrets.

Jace nods slowly. “Our boy here didn’t use his manners, so as I’ve pointed out, I need to know if you’ve got a problem with that.”

“And if I do?” Rain holds his gaze, refusing to drop her eyes. Jace’s face tightens. She’s challenging his authority in his place, and that’s not smart. I tense, getting ready to intervene.

“I’ll fix it.” Jace takes a deliberate step toward her. He’s big, he knows it, and I know it, but Rain just folds her arms over her tits and gives him that calm, collected gaze she does so well. I wonder if it’s something they teach in medical school because the look in her eyes promises that nothing he says or does can possibly surprise her.

Still, I don’t like the way he’s trying to scare her. I don’t think he’d really hurt her and I know Keelie Sue would kick his ass if he did (or whatever was left of it after I finished with him), but intimidation is definitely on his honey-do list. I step forward to shut him down and let Rain know someone has her back, but am immediately yanked backward, my brothers locking their arms around mine. I could break their hold but it’ll be loud and messy, and I don’t know what Rain wants. I probably should ask her.

Jace stops in front of Rain. He’s so close now that their knees practically brush and I jerk against my furry jailers. My brothers move with me, however, making it clear that as far as they’re concerned, my ass is in time out.

Rain doesn’t pull her punches. “It’s not your problem to fix.”

Jace shakes his head. “Fang’s my boy, my problem. He doesn’t do well with rules, so this isn’t the first time I’ve cleaned up after him.”

He makes me sound like a misbehaving puppy. Usually I don’t care what others think. I pull my weight. I fight hard for my pack. Those two things are what matters and anything else can be settled with my fists. Since I’m turning over a new leaf, I’m cutting back on the punching, so that must be why I feel hurt. Fuck. Reforming has had a bad effect on me.

I shove the feeling stuff deep down. I don’t have time to go all Oprah on myself—I’ll either figure it out later or do what I do best and ignore it.

“I’m part of this conversation,” I say to Ware.

Ware grunts, which sure doesn’t sound like he’s on board with my decision-making. Benny Boy just shrugs and tightens his grip on my arm. Fuck it. I start wading forward, dragging my wolfie anchors with me.

Rain doesn’t budge from her seat but swear to fuck it feels like she just climbed up on top of that chair and went nose to nose with Jace.

She stabs a finger in my direction. “He screwed up. He fixes it.”

The frustration’s coming off Jace in waves. He wants this shit tied up, and I’m betting he wants to go back to Keelie Sue.

“I don’t think calling the cops will help any,” he growls.

To his visible surprise, Rain nods. Me? I already know she’s a little less law-abiding than she’s made herself out to be—plus she told me she wouldn’t ring-a-ling-ling the cops about my misbehaving and Rain’s the kind of person who keeps her word. “So how would you usually handle something like this?”

Sensing victory, Jace hops up onto the bar next to her. His leg bumps her arm and it’s my turn to growl. I don’t like him being near her, but the touching is worse. I have to fight to keep from full-on attacking.

“Got a couple of options but it depends on how bad our boy here fucked up. I could fine him, kick his ass, or strip his colors.” Jace watches me as he lays out his choices. We both know he’s got no intention of emptying my wallet—that’s for human prospects. Plus, I don’t give a shit about money and I’ve got a ton of it. As punishments go, it would be meaningless, and Jace clearly feels the need to make a point here. Frankly, I’d been betting on Option B, the always popular ass kicking. It’s that third option that makes me pause. I hadn’t planned on getting kicked out of the pack.

Exile seems drastic, doesn’t it? It’s also really, really permanent. Bruises heal, but being stripped of my colors would be a forever kind of thing. My club is my family, my everything, and while I’d like to have my own pack someday, I can’t quite imagine what my life would be like without them right now. No. Scratch that. I know exactly what it would feel like. I spent all those years tied up in my Pop-Pop’s backyard, getting the crap beat out of me when he needed a punching bag. I didn’t have the club then and it sucked.

Lone wolves don’t have it easy. I’ve always had issues with authority and I don’t mind the DIY aspect of being pack-less, but I don’t want to go it without my brothers. Like most family, they can suck and suck hard, but they’re mine. I just never considered that they might not think of me as theirs. I thought I’d left that shit behind with my childhood and being chained up in the backyard because there was no place for me in the house. Not like that rundown, piece-of-shit farmhouse was a fucking Four Seasons, but I vowed no place would ever be off-limits again. I go where I want to go.

So no, I’m not a fan of Jace’s option three. My idea of punishment is harsher, quicker, and leaves marks, but it’s like an awesome thunderstorm that blows in and wreaks havoc but also clears the air. Exile’s for more serious crimes.

“Pass.” Rain makes a face. I’m not surprised that the idea of me getting the shit beaten out of me isn’t her idea of a solution. I’m not knocking her opinion, but violence has its upside. Once it’s done, it’s over and everyone moves on.

I raise my hand. “Do I get to make a suggestion?”

“Please,” Jace growls. Maybe he doesn’t want me gone after all?

“I want an apology,” she says quietly before I can start running my mouth. “You get down on your knees and you give me a real, heartfelt, genuine apology. No jokes, no games.”

I don’t kneel. Not for anyone, not any more. Her idea of revenge is perfect because she wants me to do this in front of my packmates. Volun-fucking-tarily. I’m not knocking a serving of humble pie, but it has its place, and it’s not in front of my brothers. I’m going to hear about this for years, and it’ll come up with every challenge I make or accept.

Jace’s fingers bunch up on his thigh. Possibly, he’s thinking about pummeling the shit out of me even though that ship has sailed as far as Rain’s concerned. “I want this done.”

Rain smiles sweetly at me—and points to the floor at her feet. She’s gonna make me grovel and I respect that.

“I do this for her,” I say, holding Jace’s gaze. Ware lets go of my arm and smacks me on the back of my head.

Jace shoves off the bar. Possibly he knows I’m hesitating because going down in front of Rain right now would put me at his feet, too. He strides to the end of the bar and crosses his arms over his chest. “Fucking do it. Don’t do it. Or Imma move on to my choice.”

From the unhappy grump on his face, he’s done with me and exile is looking good. I try to tell myself that’s okay. That that’s just the way shit rolls in my life. Except Rain’s looking at me too, a little tired, a little hopeful, and I don’t want her to give up on me too so I make my boots move.

I keep right on moving too until I’m in front of her and I can lean in and brace my arms on either side of her. I can almost pretend it’s just her and me, back in my big bed, and fuck the rest of the world. My fingers toy with the ends of her ponytail.

She watches me steadily. “Are you choosing to apologize?”

“Yeah.” I rest my forehead against hers. “I am, sweetheart.”

“You have to mean it,” she says quietly. “Otherwise, it’s just noise.”

I wink at her. “I’m really, truly sorry, baby. I’m sorry I dragged you out of the window. I’m sorry I tied you up and made you ride behind the seat in my truck. I’m sorry I stole you a pie and made you spend the night and then brought you here.”

I pause for a moment to run over my mental list of my misdeeds. Maybe all those Catholics are onto something. I feel better already and I’m only halfway through my confession. I plow on.

“I’m not sorry I kissed you. Or put a bow on your ass. Or spanked the monkey while you were in my shower.”

Okay, so that’s more an un-apology, even if it is true.

Jace mutters a particularly foul curse.

Rain crosses her arms over her chest. Since we’re practically tits to chest, her skin brushes against me. And even though I don’t need to be waving a boner around in front of my packmates, I wish I were naked so I could feel everything.

“Are you for real?”

“How about I kiss it better?”

I drop to my knees like she asked. Turns out that apologizing is fun and I try to make it dirty—after all, my mouth’s on a level with her pussy so I’m all for kiss and make it better. I’m more linebacker than ballet dancer, so my shoulders need all the room between her thighs. I smooth my hands up her calves, cup her knees, and press as gentle as I can. She opens up, making space for me. I fit here.

Huh. Pretty sure that’s another one of those feeling things. It’s kind of like spotting a water moccasin right where you were about to set your paw. I jerk back and talk faster.

“I’m sorry I lied when I made the appointment at your clinic. And that I dragged you out the window and then made you ride on the floor of my truck, even if you did look cute all tied up.”

Pretty sure that’s Ware’s groan I hear.

I rest my head on her knee and turn my face so my cheek’s rubbing against the soft cotton covering her thigh. “Pretty please forgive me?”

I bat my eyelashes at her.

“Fang.” That’s all she says for a long moment. Just my name. Her fingers sort of flutter-stroke over my hair as if she’s not quite sure where to put them. I’m aware of Jace tensing at the end of the bar. He’s close enough that he could take me out with one well-placed kick from his boot. Huh. His boots are dusty and streaked with fresh mud. He’s been out in the bayou. It must have been on club business, but he didn’t invite me. He doesn’t trust me. He says he can’t.

Fucker apparently meant it.

I shove the unwanted feeling thing down with all the other emotional rejects I’m keeping a lid on and press my mouth against the soft skin above her knee. I can smell her. She’d be embarrassed if she knew but I am who I am and her scent is glorious. My wolf whines, demanding we claim her. For just a minute, her fingers thread through my hair, her nails pricking my scalp. An epic boner threatens to punch through the front of my jeans. She’s… I’m…

“Give me the words.” She tugs gently on my hair.

I lean forward, bracing my arms on either side of her hips. My mouth’s inches from her sweet, scrub-covered pussy—the perfect position for apologizing.

“Goddamn it.” Jace lands heavily beside me, his hand yanking at my shoulder. I shake him off.

Mine.

“Give us a moment,” Rain snaps. At my Alpha.

The clubhouse has never been so silent. Fucking shockwaves almost knock the walls down. No one gives Jace orders, not in public. Not in front of his pack. He has to be top dog, the man in charge. No matter what he and Keelie Sue do in private, in public she’s his old lady and his mate. He respects the fuck out of her, but she doesn’t give him any lip or disagree with him in front of others.

Rain clearly didn’t get that memo.

Jace tenses, but then gives a bark of strained laughter. “You’re as crazy as him.”

Rain shrugs. “He’s mine. My problem. Not yours.”

She’s not a wolf. She doesn’t know but those words mean everything to me. There’s a brief pause punctuated by the heavy thud of booted feet filing out of the room and then the even louder slam of the door closing. We’re alone.

And I look up at her.

And tell her the truth.

“I’m sorry for fucking up your life.”

I press my forearms against her thighs, resting my thumbs against the soft inner curve. If I cupped my fingers just a little, I could make one of those stupid hearts people post on Instagram.

“Are you?”

I stroke my thumbs up a little. “Well, maybe not spending the night with you, or getting you in my bed, but for not thinking shit through. You probably had plans for today, but I like this. Having you here for Keelie Sue.”

“And it’s all about Keelie Sue?” She eases my hands off her legs and gives my shoulders a gentle shove. Her cheeks are pink.

“It was.” I rock back on my heels, hand on my own thighs. I don’t feel anywhere near as good as Rain does.

Rain slides off the barstool. “And now?”

“I like this.” I get to my feet. This is weird. I’m not used to not knowing the next line in the script. No matter how sweet her scent, I don’t think Rain wants to have sex with me. Her expression is reserved, thoughtful—and I’m not sure she’s thinking about me or how good we’d be together. I have to up my game.

She brushes past me. “Do you kidnap everyone you like?”

I liked Keelie Sue and I certainly tried to force the issue there, figuring that a little proximity to me and my good lucks would work wonders. So… maybe? Admittedly, my relationship skills are seriously fucked up.

So I shrug and tell the truth for the second time today. “You were my last.”

Rain nods briskly and heads for the door. I guess I’ve given her what she wants, which is just strange. Usually my apologies are all skin deep. Literally. I give great apology and the girl I’m making up to comes shrieking my name. It’s always worked before, but no one’s naked and there’s definitely no orgasms happening right now.

Instead, Rain’s clearly hellbent on leaving. Okay. I follow, grabbing the door for her. She sails through, barely acknowledging my helpful wrangling of heavy shit on her behalf. She pauses all of a second in the parking lot and then heads straight for my truck. I wonder if she realizes that she’s counting on me for something, even if it’s just a ride. Part of her, way deep down and probably buried under a million feet of subconscious shit, believes I’ll do the right thing. Otherwise, why would she risk getting back into my truck? Not like my track record is good.

So I take a chance. “Are we cool?”

She turns around, hand on the door. “I understand your concern for Keelie Sue, but no more kidnapping, okay? Felonies are off-limits. If you want something, ask.”

“Gotcha,” I say with mock gravity. I brace an arm over her head. The metal’s hot from the sun, practically searing the skin from me. Good. I deserve to hurt. I don’t press my hips and my dick into her, but I’m close enough to feel the heat of her body, to smell her skin.

“There’s a heart in here,” she reaches up and pats my chest, and I want to drop to my knees again for a whole different reason. Not going there.

“Tell me how to make my bad behavior up to you.”

Wolves are brutal. Hurt us, and we hurt you back twofold. I know without asking that Rain won’t hit me. That’s not how she rolls. But there has to be something I can do for her.

She hesitates. Her forehead crinkles and she puffs out a breath of air. She might as well tell me whatever it is she’s thinking because I can out-stubborn anyone I know. I’ll get it from her eventually.

I lean in a little closer, biting back a groan as my thighs brush hers. We’re like a jigsaw puzzle where the pieces fit easy. “It’s yours.”

“You don’t even know what I was going to ask!” she protests.

Doesn’t matter. “I owe you.”

Her face falls, so that’s the wrong answer.

I try again. “And I’d like to make you happy, sunshine.”

She nods, but I suspect she’s having a conversation with herself. “You sent a naked selfie to my ex.”

“You can keep it. Add it to your spank bank.” I wink at her and smooth the fingers of my free hand over her waist. I’m a guy. Of course I get hard at the thought of her jilling to my picture.

“Your ego is the size of Antarctica.”

“I’m truthful.”

“He hated your picture.” She sounds as satisfied as if the Orgasm Fairy had made multiple visits. And while I’m glad she’s pleased with something I’ve done, I’d rather that something was the direct results of my fingers or my tongue or my magic dick.

“I want you to do it again,” she continues. “I want you to drive him absolutely nuts. It’s not mature but fuck that noise. He decided he didn’t want me, and now he’s changed his mind. He needs to know that other people like me and that I deserve better than his shit. He’s a drunk and a cheater and I’m going to be fine without him in my life.”

I’m a wolf, not a psychologist, but even I can interpret her rambling. Dickish Dave the Ex clearly unloaded a few personal opinions before he waltzed out Rain’s door. She’s not feeling sexy or beautiful or powerful—and she’s decided to change that. Or maybe just rub his face in what he passed on. There are lots of other ways to accomplish this, but who am I to judge her? If she wants her ex to wallow in remorse, I’ll drown him in that shit—and then kick his ass.

“You can take all the naked pictures of me that you want.”

Her fingers curl in the front of my shirt. “I want you to pretend to be my boyfriend.”

The fuck?

Rain being Rain, she doesn’t give me a chance to say anything. Nope. She’s off, listing rules and conditions. “I need to borrow you for a month. That should be long enough. But that means you don’t see anyone else. We’ll be exclusive. It won’t look good if you’re manwhoring around and we’re supposed to be seeing each other.”

“You’re asking me out.” Maybe Jace did kick me in the head and I’m suffering from some sort of traumatic brain injury.

“I’m asking you to be my fake boyfriend.” Rain stabs a finger into my chest. “You owe me, so you should agree.”

“I could be your boyfriend for real,” I say casually.

Rain laughs. It’s not a mean laugh, but more like I’ve said something so ridiculous that she can’t hold it in. I think she agrees with me. She pats me on the shoulder. “I’m not interested in a well-used dick.”

Okay so I probably didn’t make that offer as casually as I could. What the fuck am I thinking? I’m the quick, awesome lay that spoils you for regular sex. I’m a god between the sheets, but the one thing I’m not is real or forever or boyfriend material. That requires the kind of commitment I can’t make.

I make a strategic retreat, tickling her side until she giggle-snorts again, slapping at my fingers. And not until she’s breathless, leaning into me, I say, “That’s practice, sweetheart. I’m very, very good at what I do.”

She looks a little dazed but then she snaps out of it. Too bad. “Pass.”

I’m a little… something about that. It can’t be disappointment. There’s plenty of pussy out there, and if one dish is off the menu, I’ll just choose something else when my month is up. I’m easy like that. If Rain wants fake, I’ll give her fake. It’s not like I’d know how to be the real deal anyhow. And it doesn’t niggle at all that she’s completely indifferent to the sexual marvel that is my dick.

I settle my mouth by her ear and nip lightly. “Deal. I’ll be as pretend as you want.”

I give her a little lick and my wolf whines silently. She tastes good. I want her naked. Under me. Up against the truck, bent over the seat, ass up, and… Well, there aren’t too many ways I don’t want her and my dick snaps to attention. Not that Rain seems to notice.

“Okay.” She just looks thoughtful, as if she’s a million miles away and not caged in my arms looking like a dream come true. “Can you start right away?”

I’m the world’s best fake boyfriend.

I wink at her. “You bet.”

“Awesome.” She inches up on tiptoe, looking over my shoulder as if she thinks Dick Ex could be hiding behind one of the prospects’ bikes. There’s an awkward pause. I’m not sure she’s thought this through. She turns around, groping for the door handle. Because I’m so close to her, this means her ass wiggles against my crotch while she wrestles with the door. It also means I’m in no rush to help her out because this is better than all of my fantasies.

I flatten my palm against the door, holding it closed. “We should practice.”

She giggle-snorts again. That’s the cutest fucking sound ever—and since her happiness deserves a reward, I lean down and give her a quick but thorough kiss.

Just in case anyone’s watching.

Not because I want to.

More than anything I’ve ever wanted.