“Thumper must be feeling better,” Gigi says the second I step into the kitchen. The light chuckle that fills the room tells me that they presume Javier and I were doing the very things I was picturing in my head, and the heat of embarrassment races over my skin.
“Enough, Georgia,” Kincaid snaps before looking at me. “You’ll have to excuse her. She has no filter.”
I swallow, looking around the room to see who all is witnessing my unease.
No one is really paying attention to me, so I cross the room to make a cup of coffee. I know the offer for me to stay is there, and more than one person has offered their hospitality for as long as I need it, but I know I can’t stay forever. I just don’t feel comfortable being dependent on people for all my basic needs.
I’m putting butter on a slice of toast when a cheer goes around the room. Looking over my shoulder, I see Javier walking into the kitchen. His eyes lock on mine before he frowns at the men making the noise. It’s clear they care for him, but it’s easy to see that he’s not comfortable right now.
“Can we get this meeting over with?” he asks before turning around and walking out of the room.
All the men in the kitchen stand and follow him out, leaving just a handful of us women watching as they walk away.
“We have an assortment of jellies and jams in the fridge,” Ivy says, probably noticing that I’m just holding a slice of toast in one hand and a knife in the other.
“Butter is fine,” I tell her, getting back to work.
I doubt I’ll have the stomach to eat. Javier doesn’t seem happy, and that makes me worry.
I take a seat beside Ivy and regret that it puts me across from Gigi. The woman is grinning at me like she knows a million secrets, and since I’ve been in her presence several times already, I know she isn’t going to hold anything back.
I choose to start the conversation in an effort to lead it away from whatever that woman may be planning to say.
I turn to Ivy. “Do you know of any places around town hiring or anyone looking for a roommate?”
“What kind of work are you looking for?” Ivy asks in return.
“Roommate? Job?” Gigi interrupts. “You don’t have to leave.”
“I can’t stay,” I tell her, taking a bite of my toast, chewing and swallowing before continuing. “I have to be able to provide for myself. I can’t just live off others.”
“I can ask around—” Ivy begins but Gigi isn’t done speaking.
“Being Thumper’s woman means that he’ll take care of you.”
Ivy shakes her head, sighing as if she and her sister have had this conversation more than once. “Just because you’re okay with Jameson taking care of you doesn’t mean everyone else is as ready to let a man spoil them.”
Gigi chuckles, giving her sister a pointed look. “Are you saying Griffin doesn’t spoil you?”
“Okay,” Ivy conceded. “I am spoiled, but I like working. Maybe Cara is the same way.”
“I’m not his woman.”
“You are,” Gigi argues.
“We saw the way his eyes went to yours the second he walked in the room. They were filled with—”
“Dirty, dirty thoughts,” Gigi finishes.
“I was going to say care and affection,” Ivy corrects.
“Yeah, there was that too, but he was also undressing you with his eyes.”
“I’m not his,” I continue to argue.
I don’t doubt that he’s lusty. Hell, I am too, but sex between two people does not equate wanting more than that release of dopamine.
“Does Thumper know you’re not his?” Gigi asks. “Because if he wasn’t claiming you with one look then the earth is flat.”
Chapter 34
Thumper
The room is packed, and there weren’t many meetings where every single member of the club was present. Sometimes our missions were split because not all of the jobs required all three teams to be involved at the same time.
I feel like I’m under a microscope as I take my normal seat at the conference table.
Silence fills the room as everyone files in behind me, and it’s nothing like it normally is. Doing what Cerberus does, the men have to take joy and happiness where they can find it. It might seem callous but being happy and joking is a way to blow off steam. So is fucking and drinking, but other than Rivet, there isn’t another woman in the room, and everyone is as sober as a judge.
The conference room door is nearly silent as it closes, but it feels more threatening than the times that cell door closed when I was in Ernesto’s captivity. Despite the cheer I got for finally being on my feet when I entered the kitchen moments ago, there are no smiling faces now.
When Kincaid takes his position at the head of the table, the man garners every ounce of attention in the room. His focus is on me, and I feel sweat threatening to bead on my forehead.