I glared at him. “I’m careful.”
He stared right back, and I withered a little inside. He knew me better than anyone and studied me as if he sensed the whisper of discomfort that didn’t belong. Did he know about the secrets I withheld from him? My suspicions about our parents?
His narrowed gaze pushed against me, prodding me to unload my heart. Which would only further burden his.
I bit down on my lip. “What?”
After a stubborn moment of volleyed glares, he shook his head and strode out of the bathroom. Releasing a soundless breath, I followed him then veered into the closet to pull on the leggings and camisole that went under my leathers.
When I emerged, I found him at the dresser, fingering the wedding ring I never wore. He didn’t wear his, either. Legally, we were married, but emotionally, we weren’t. Wearing the rings didn’t feel right, and thankfully, the contract didn’t require it.
His gaze focused inward as he returned the diamond band to its box and tucked it back in the drawer.
I leaned a hip against the dresser. “What’s going on, Collin?”
A shrug. “Just one of those nights. Got shit on my mind.”
My eyes narrowed. “Like what? Seth? The show?” I exhaled. “Us?”
“The show.” The floor creaked as he paced my bedroom, updating me on everything that went wrong with tonight’s filming of The Anderson Angle.
He spent his mornings writing each show and filmed the one hour segment at five o’clock every evening, which broadcasted at nine. He handpicked every guest, predicting what they would say in the interview, sometimes down to the last word. This gave him an edge, enabling him to formulate his counterarguments ahead of time. But sometimes he misjudged, like tonight with the CEO of Nationside Energy.
Standing in the center of the room in his Derek Rose silk boxers and frowning at his feet, he looked vulnerable, defeated. “Overall, it worked out.” He nodded. “Yeah, I think we’ll get away with it. But I won’t be asking him back.”
He lived and died by his ratings and would work himself into a frenzy until the numbers posted tomorrow afternoon. I squeezed the hand at his side and let go. He didn’t want pretty words or warm hugs. He vented to me, I listened, and he moved on.
Which he was doing now, his swift strides carrying him to the door. “I’m doing a segment tomorrow on police brutality.” He stopped in the doorway and held up a finger, tapping the air as if keeping rhythm with the thoughts in his head. “I’ll get a cocky cop. Yeah. The power-drunk type with a short fuse.” He scratched his jaw, pale eyes glimmering. “And he has to have a mustache.”
With that, he vanished around the corner, presumably headed to his office on his side of the condo. I stared at the space he’d vacated, part of me wishing he’d stayed to keep me company. Maybe for just a few minutes of spooning until I left for the race. But I stopped thinking of him that way long before we married. Snuggling with Collin would be akin to cuddling my best girlfriend…if I had one of those.
His head popped back in, snapping me from my thoughts. “Be careful, hussy.”
“Always—” But he was already gone. I sighed. “Punk.”
He was right about the risk, of course. Attending the races was like walking into a secret biker bar without an invite or a gun. There was the threat of arrest and the defamation of my reputation to consider. But Collin’s concerns had more to do with me being a woman, alone, amongst men who didn’t respect boundaries or socially-accepted precepts.
Sure, I carried a gun and knew how to use it, but that argument only elevated Collin’s blood pressure.
I shouldn’t go. I had a long work day ahead of me tomorrow, and my eyes already burned with fatigue.
Standing by the bed, I placed my hands on the quilt, waiting for the soft, opulent fabrics to coax me in. Instead, the sight of the empty mattress produced a longing so intense it swelled against my ribs.
I was married to my best friend. I had his loyalty, his honesty, and his camaraderie. But I didn’t have a man’s arms around me while I slept. Didn’t have a warm body to curl into, one that shared my bed and protected me from the things I couldn’t fight alone.
That strong and persistent hunger buzzed through my bloodstream and tightened my insides. I walked to the closet, pulled on my silver leathers, and buckled my boots. I wasn't the kind of woman who could lie down and wait for life to not happen.
I braided my hair in a long tail and grabbed the silver motorcycle helmet and Kevlar gloves. A sense of control tingled through my body and filled my lungs with oxygen as I headed for the door.