“He wants kids, you know?” she whispered. “But I’m . . . I don’t think I do. He’s so good with them, too, and if he wants them he should get them but . . . ugh, Mom, I don’t think I can do it.”
There was raw fear in my daughter’s eyes, something that I knew could be attributed to me and my bad parenting, for never being there for her when she’d needed me most. She didn’t know how to be a mother, because she’d never truly had one growing up.
“Tegen—” I started, but was quickly interrupted.
“No, Mom, I know what you’re thinking and it’s not that. I’m not scared of being a mom, or of not being able to be a good mom. I’m scared of becoming a mom and losing everything that makes me . . . well . . . me. But mostly, I’m scared of losing Cage.”
Her admission caused her features to twist with shame, and her gaze dropped to where her hands were clasped together in her lap. “It’s fucking selfish,” she mumbled. “I know it is. But I don’t want to be like these other women who have kids and suddenly their men aren’t interested anymore. Sometimes I feel like that’s all that keeps Cage and me together . . . the fact that he doesn’t ever know what to expect from me, because, shit, most of the time I never know what to expect from me. But if we have children, I have to be dependable. I won’t get to be me anymore, and what if—”
“Stop it,” I snapped. “Tegen, Cage West was a whore if I ever knew one, and a man like that doesn’t marry a woman just because he finds her interesting. He marries a woman because he’s finally found the one that made him reevaluate his whorish ways and want to toss in his whoring towel.
“And,” I added quickly, “I’m sure Cage wouldn’t mind if you suddenly became a little less . . . interesting.”
Tegen’s eyes narrowed into tiny slits. “Is that a nice way of telling me I’m too interesting?”
I shrugged and smiled. “It’s a nice way of telling the daughter I love and adore that she can be a little too loud and a lot too mouthy sometimes.”
Tegen laughed, a sound I’d never grow tired of hearing. Leaning back into the buttery-soft leather, I laughed with her until we both fell into a companionable silence. Once again, she rested her legs across mine and I hugged them tightly to me. Time passed by slowly after that, while we waited for the men, and eventually Tegen’s eyes began to close.
When she was sound asleep and softly snoring, I gently moved her legs and slid off the couch. Pressing my ear against Deuce’s office doors, I found the men still engaged in conversation. Not wanting to intrude, I wandered off through the dark and silent hallways, dragging my fingertips along the smooth wall until I came to a stop outside the door I hadn’t realized I was seeking.
Like most of the boys’ rooms, when they weren’t at the clubhouse, it was locked. But I wasn’t looking to go inside. Aside from the basement, a room I’d never been allowed in, I was well acquainted with all the rooms, had spent years inside each of them, cleaning up after the occupants.
But this room wasn’t just any room.
This was Hawk’s room.
Pressing my palms flat against the grooved wood, I leaned forward, resting my forehead on the door and thought back to the day I entered this door, and everything changed . . .
**•
Last night had been a mistake. A stupid drunken mistake.
While drinking heavily, reeling with self-pity after Jase had left for home, Hawk had caught me unaware with his surprising intentions.
And in my sorrow-drenched state, I’d done the unthinkable.
Now, apparently Hawk had thought he had some claim over me, thinking he could demand that I meet him in his room.
Oh, I would be meeting him in his room, all right. Not for some sordid rendezvous, but to tell him exactly where he could shove his line of thinking.
I stormed through the club’s back hall and when I reached Hawk’s bedroom door, I didn’t bother knocking. As far as everyone in the club was concerned, I was only here to clean. Grasping the doorknob, I pushed inside, quickly closing the door behind me.
I looked over the bare walls, the plain and minimal furniture, the lone book sitting atop his dresser, before coming to a stop on the man himself. Leaning against the window ledge, he had one arm across his chest, his hand tucked into his armpit, while the other brought a cigarette up to his mouth.
“Why?” I demanded shakily. “Why are you doing this? Is this funny for you? Is this some sort of sick game?”
After stubbing his cigarette into an ashtray, Hawk pushed himself away from the window. Folding his arms across his chest, he looked me directly in the eyes. Darkly intense and unwavering, sheer dominance radiated from his eyes, making me feel even smaller, not just in size, but worthless in comparison.
“Woman,” he said, his voice a deep, rolling rumble. “I don’t play games.”
“Then what?” I demanded. “You just figured I’d be easy, because why? Because I’m a whore!”
The corners of his mouth began to curl. If he were anyone else, I would have thought he was smiling, but Hawk didn’t smile and the expression was anything but lighthearted; it was pure menace.
“You’re not a whore.” He practically growled the words. “I don’t fuck with club whores.”
His admission gave me pause, forcing me to think back throughout the past few years, trying to place Hawk with any one of the girls that were or had been regulars at the club.
Every so often he’d make a lewd comment to one of the boys, take part in their sordid stories, and he’d definitely flirted with the girls around the club, that much I knew for certain. They’d sat in his lap, he’d done his fair share of groping, but never once could I recall a woman exiting his room. Unlike the other men, with the exception of only a few, their bedrooms were usually littered with the remnants of a long night of partying. But not Hawk’s. Never Hawk’s.
In fact, Hawk usually kept to himself. Aside from his club obligations, I’d only seen him sharing in the occasional drink with Ripper, and quick, quiet conversations with Blue.
With this new knowledge, I felt myself deflating, my anger receding as confusion quickly took its place.
“Why?” I whispered, shaking my head. “Why me?”
I truly didn’t understand his interest. Compared to the women around the club, or even half the women in town, I was plain. Plain and boring.
Several moments of silence followed and then he began walking toward me. I stared, watching as he grew closer and closer, noting that suddenly everything about him seemed . . . different somehow. The way he looked at me, the way he held himself. All that formidable muscle no longer seemed bulky but perfectly aligned with his body, his movements sleeker and smoother.
He stopped just before me and, unsure of his motives, I held my breath, my heart pounding an unsteady rhythm in my chest. I didn’t know what to expect, and certainly not what happened next.
Grabbing hold of my bicep, he shoved me in front of him and began pushing me forward. I was too shocked to fight him and simply allowed him to force me across the room where he pushed me up against the window. His arms came down on either side of me and his body pressed against mine, caging me in.
“Look at your man,” he growled.
Hawk’s room was located on the far side of the hall, but from his window I could see the party, still in full swing. While some partygoers still stood in small groups, most were now crowded around the picnic tables, filling their plates with the food I’d prepared only hours ago.
I found myself wondering if someone had finished making my macaroni salad . . . until I saw him. Standing beside his wife, Jase’s arm was slung across her shoulders while he gestured wildly with his free hand, emphasizing whatever it was that he was discussing. Beside him, Chrissy’s smiling face was upturned, utterly focused on her husband.