ELEVEN

Dog

Mel excuses herself, saying she wants a good night’s sleep before we head out in the morning. It’s bullshit—her excuse—but I let it slide.

She needs the time alone to string herself together well enough to survive another eye-opening day.

If she thought it was hard being here at our clubhouse because of all the reminders, she’s going to be steamrolled when she walks in the doors of her home—Fort Worth. Everywhere that poor fucking bitch looks she’s going to be slapped with a reminder of what she’s lost, and what’s going to make it even harder for her, is she’s dealing with it alone. Everyone else down there has gone through the motions: they held a wake, the women wailed, and the men drank solemnly at the loss they experienced.

Mel—she’s at least twelve months behind them all, trying to catch up and jam her grieving process into as short a time as possible so that she can get on with life and rejoin the masses.

Fucking sucks.

I shake out another cigarette as two of the local girls who drop in most weekends stumble out into the yard to share their regular spliff. They spot the glow of my lighter and beeline over, all wobbly legs and pinpoint heels sinking into the lawn.

“Would you mind?” Busty asks, holding their shared roll between us.

I always forget her name—never had much interest in it—but I’d never forget that rack. Her surgeon deserves a fucking annual bonus for that outstanding effort. Totally thought they were real until she let slip what it cost one night.

“Sure.” I hold the flame out as she sparks up, her eyes on mine the whole time.

I open my mouth, the words on the tip of my tongue, and yet I bite my lip instead to stifle the lame pick-up line that bubbles to the surface.

It would be so easy to do, to pick her up for the night. Fuck, it would probably be easy to get both of them. I’ve had the set one at a time, but fuck, the two of them could do some damage.

Yet when I think of the kinky shit these bitches could do together, I don’t get the usual rush that accompanies the challenge.

I get some twisted fucking knot in my gut that I don’t really like all that much.

Weird.

“You want us to stick around?” her buddy asks. “Hate the thought of you all lonely out here.”

“All good,” I mumble. “Kind of want to be alone.”

Slut takes it as some sign that I need mothering, cooing as she wraps her manicured fingers around my chin. “That doesn’t sound good, baby.”

I jerk my head back, ripping from her hold. “Enjoy your night, ladies.”

They watch as I take my leave, resisting the urge to break into a run so I can get as far away from them as fucking possible. I don’t even know what has me so goddamn twisted inside out until I find myself at the top of the stairs, wondering which room Mel’s using.

I jog back down the staircase, eyeing the common room as I go. Sonya lifts her head from the plates of food scraps she’d been clearing as I approach.

“Hey, Dog. What can I do you for?”

“You know which room Mel’s in?”

She straightens up, placing a hand on her hip as she narrows her eyes on me. “Why?”

“Said she wanted to borrow a couple of things,” I lie.

“Like what? I can get them for her.”

Nothing gets past this woman.

“Yeah, it’s all good. I got it covered. We’d been talkin’ about how much she’s missed new music, and I said she could listen to the playlists on my phone.” Lame, Dog. Fucking lame.

Sonya eyes me a second too long, the suspicion clear in the crisp blue of her heavily made-up eyes. “To be honest, I’m not sure. She came and asked for a spare blanket, but I figured King had already hooked her up.” She points across the room to where our president drinks with Callum. “Go ask him; he should know.”

“Thanks, love.” I lean in and give her a peck on the cheek.

No way in fucking hell am I asking King where I’m likely to find Mel bedded down for the night. Asshole would castrate me in front of the brothers just to make a point.

I glance over my shoulder and catch a glimpse of Sonya as she disappears with the trash, and then make a wide berth around King as I make my way to the stairs again.

I can’t fully explain why I’ve got this dire need to seek her out, what it is about this little mystery that grabs me even after all this time. But a niggle in the back of my mind points to the gap between who Mel was when I first knew her, and who she is now.

Gone is the vibrant, outgoing girl that everybody knew at Fort Worth. Her smile’s faded, her spirit squashed down under the weight of her troubles. Instead, I find an unsure wreck of a woman who constantly over-analyzes everything around her. A delicate bundle of nerves that holds the real Mel captive.

As I stand in the hallway, staring at the numerous closed doors to narrow down my choice, it strikes me hard what it is about her that draws me in.

The familiarity.

I’ve always found time with Mel is such an easy thing to spend. She sucks me in, pulling my focus completely on her so I don’t even give a second thought to what else I might be missing out on. She’s security, the safe place I can go where I know without a shadow of a doubt she wouldn’t judge me for my stupid decisions or dumb fucking behavior. She likes me as me, as I love her as she is too.

The allure is her.

But the old her.

I want to fix her; strip back what’s worn and broken, and polish what lies beneath.

Holding my finger before me, I play a quick game of eeny-meeny-miney-moe with the doors. Four I can rule out because they belong to permanent residents, but the other six … I tick off four more since their part-time occupants are currently downstairs getting three sheets to the wind, which leaves Sawyer’s old room, and mine.

I start with his since Sonya’s been known to house people overnight in there since he’s moved out to be with Abbey. Cold, stale air hits me hard as I push the door open, the room shrouded in darkness. Enough light spills in from the hallway to illuminate the end of the bed, and I recognize the bag I see as the one slung over the shoulder of that bird Hooch had with him. What was her name? Something unusual.

Strike one more from the list.

Anticipation weighs heavy in my chest as I back out of the room and cross diagonally over the hallway to the only option left: my room. My hand seems foreign, as though I’m a spectator watching my own body while I reach out for the handle. I twist, and push, fully expecting to be let down when I find the room empty.

Except, there, on the floor beside my bed is a distinctly human shape.

Mel rolls over as I enter, the blanket pulled up tight around her shoulders. “Hey. I didn’t expect you to come up so soon after me.”

“What are you doin’ on my floor?” I step further into the room and nudge the door closed until it rests on the latch.

Darkness falls around us, yet the spill from around the door is enough for me to make out the way she dips her chin and averts her eyes. “I’m sorry. I asked King where I should stay, and he said I’d have to make do on the sofas downstairs after everyone had gone, that all the rooms are full.”

“Yeah, but why are you on my floor?” I repeat.

She sits up, gathering her pillow and reaching for the end of the blanket. “I’ll go see if—”

I hold out my hand, stopping her mid-sentence. “No, babe. I meant why the fuck are you breakin’ your back on the hard as fuck floor? Get on the bed for fuck’s sake.”

She stares up at the mattress beside her, and then back at me. “I …”

“Now.” I flick a finger toward the bed and raise an eyebrow.

She can’t see fuck all in this light, but I’m sure my tone of voice was enough given how she throws her pillow up beside mine and then shuffles to her feet.

“I don’t feel right making you sleep elsewhere, Dog,” she mutters while setting her blanket up over mine. “This is your room—you should have it.”

“Who said I’m sleepin’ anywhere else?” Her rustling movements behind me still as I face the bureau and strip my cut off. “We’ll share.”

She doesn’t say anything more, staying as quiet as a doormouse while I strip my T-shirt off, unbuckle my belt, and then drop my jeans to my ankles, shucking them off with my boots in one go.

I turn to find her sitting on my bed, wide-eyed in the dark. I’m sure she can see enough.

“It’s all good,” I drawl, crawling up the mattress from the foot end. “I won’t try anythin’ you don’t want me to.”

She twists her head and watches me as I peel the blankets back and slide in. “Good.”

I pat the bed beside me. “Now get under the covers, woman, and warm the fuck up.”

She lets out a little huff, sliding in beside me. The fact she still has my sweatshirt on drives me insane … in a frustratingly good way. I reach across the space she’s left between us and give the fabric a tug.

“You might get hot if you leave this on.”

“I don’t have anything else.” Her voice is quiet now we’re so close; the throaty sound enough to make my dick stir.

“Who’s gonna see?”

Silence hangs thick, the tension painful in my legs as I fight to stay on my side of the bed and not strip the sweater off for her. She finally relents, twisting away and wrestling the clothing off under the cover of the blanket. It hits the floor with a dull thump before she turns back to face me.

“Satisfied?” she sasses.

I smirk, despite the fact she can’t see it. “Hardly.”

Satisfied would be reaching out and tugging her to me. Satisfied would be feeling her breathing even out as it puffs across my chest. Satisfied would be having her tell me the real fucking reason she chose to stay in my room considering she’s done nothing but reinforce the “friends only” rule since she’s got back.

“Mel?”

“Yeah?” The bed dips as she settles in on her side.

“Why did you really come in here?”

“I told you,” she murmurs. “King said to sleep downstairs, but it’s still too noisy, too many people.”

“Bullshit.”

The tension travels through the mattress. “Why don’t you tell me, then,” she snaps, “if you’re so fucking sure of yourself?”

“You could have picked anywhere to get some peace and quiet. You could have stretched out on the chair in King’s office for fuck’s sake. So don’t feed me some lie about how it was the only quiet place to settle for the night.”

I catch the wet sound of her swallow, the small fidget as she adjusts the blanket over her shoulder. “I can’t handle all the people anymore.”

“Still doesn’t explain why here is the only place you felt comfortable.”

What if I’d taken those sluts up on their offer? What the fuck would Mel have made of it if I’d dragged a couple of barely dressed, wet pussies into the room? Bet that would have gone down like a cold cup of sick …

“Because you make me feel comfortable,” she whispers. The words fall from her lips so quietly I almost miss them as I jam a bent arm under my head.

A million things race through my mind at her confession, a thousand reasons why I’m no good for a woman of her standing, a thousand more why my own secrets mean I can’t let anyone get too close, because why the fuck would I want to hurt the one I care about most by continuing to lie about who I am?

I can’t do both: be Dog and fall in love. If that’s even what we’d have.

Yet, the deep craving I have for this bent and twisted little woman drives me to say something that indicates the exact opposite.

“What are you doin’ all the way over there then?”

“Dog …”

“No, Mel. You said I make you feel comfortable, so why you staying so far away from me, babe?”

“Don’t,” she whispers, her face turned into the pillow.

“Don’t what?”

“Play me. I deserve more than that.”

“I can’t give you more if you won’t let me.” What the fuck am I saying? Who is this guy?

“I don’t know if you have the ability to be more.”

The guy whose ego lies flailing on the floor with a knife to its heart after that little statement—that’s who this guy is.

“Ouch, babe.”

She sighs, her hand snaking under the covers until she connects with my arm. Slender fingers wrap around my wrist, and she holds tight as she speaks only the truth. “What have you given me that proves you’re anything other than Dog, the party boy who prides himself on living life without giving a fuck for the consequences? Huh? I’m sorry if I hurt you, but it’s the truth.”

Yeah, it is. Right when I want it the least.

“Give me a chance?” I’ve never begged a woman before, but shit, I’ve also never had one inhabit every free space between my thoughts like this.

“Give it time,” she counters, her hand slipping away. “It’s day one in a life that’s nothing like I left it, Dog. Let’s get past the initial shock before we start making decisions, huh?”

“Yeah, okay.” I roll to my other side, giving her my back and effectively sulking as the truth of her words sinks deep.

She’s so right that it makes me want to smash the fuck out of something, preferably myself for making my new persona such a detached asshole. Didn’t think of that when I sauntered in here with all intentions of building a lie that didn’t rely on anyone but myself to get by, did I?

I settle in, rearranging my pillow and tucking one knee up, shuffling forward until I know I’m on the edge of the mattress. Less chance I bump into her by accident, less chance I’ll lose control and fucking prove to this bitch that I can be everything she thinks I’m not and more.