I smacked her. “Don’t call me that. That’s Bain’s name for me.”
I hadn’t meant it to sound so possessive, but it’d definitely come out that way.
More so, when I looked back at Bain, it was to see his eyes on me, taking me in intently.
As if he’d liked how it’d come out.
“It is Bain’s,” Hilary confirmed. “Holt, my husband, tried to call her that once and she ignored him completely. I think she just doesn’t ‘hear’ it when it comes out of anyone else’s mouth but Bain’s.”
That wasn’t quite the case.
But I just felt like it was special that only Bain called me Luce.
I was Diana to everyone but him.
“Got it.” Matilda grinned. “We have to study tonight, though. Can I come over? I can bring pizza.”
“You can come over, but don’t you dare bring pizza,” Hilary announced. “My girl here gets home-cooked meals when she’s home.”
“All right,” Matilda chirped. “I’ll see y’all tonight then.” She paused when she met Bain’s gaze. “Take care of her.”
Bain nodded and Matilda flounced away as if she was a cheerleader and not a computer nerd that despised anything pink.
When I turned back around, it was to see Bain remounting his bike. His thick, muscular thighs grabbing my attention and holding it.
I’d never really noticed just how thick they were before. But it was more than obvious that his jeans fit everywhere but the leg, where they were practically so tight there wasn’t an ounce of give left.
“Ready, hun?” Hilary called.
I nodded, then started to her car, realizing that there was distinctly something different about Bain now that he’d kissed me.
Something that I wasn’t sure that I liked.
• • •
That feeling only grew the longer and longer the night wore on.
It was now the end of the night, and Bain had never come back, confirming my fears.
He wasn’t going to come back.
And he regretted kissing me.
CHAPTER 8
If gas prices keep getting higher, I’m just going to snort some cocaine and run everywhere.
-Luce to Bain
BAIN
I’d spent the entire night looking for the douchebag with Kobe, having no luck.
At least, that was until I got a call.
“Hello?” I answered, frustrated, tired, and irritable.
“Bain McDempsey?”
I came to a standstill beside the bike that I was about to mount, wondering why the hell the voice on the other end of the line sounded so familiar.
I had my answer in the next moment.
“This is Sunny Summers, the sheriff,” he announced. “You have a few minutes?”
I looked at my watch.
I’d been intending to go have breakfast with my mom and Luce—my dad was likely already at work—but that could wait if needed.
And I realized in the next second that it was needed.
“Yeah,” I answered. “What’s up?”
“A Bartholomew Rhettson was found dead this morning outside of a truck stop about four miles north of here,” he announced, startling me. “The only thing he had on him was a blank business card with your name on it.”
I cursed silently. “Well, fuck.”
“Yeah,” he said. “You got a minute to come in?”
I looked at my watch, realizing that I would miss breakfast.
“I have a better idea,” I said. “Since you’re likely gonna need to talk to my ex-sister-in-law, as well as me, since it includes her… how about you meet me at my mom’s place?”
“Where is it?” he asked.
Ten minutes later, I made it to my mom’s place to see Sunny already outside talking and drinking coffee with my mom. Luce was there, too. And by the way she was avoiding my eyes, she was clearly upset with me.
Whether it was what I hoped—she was mad that I didn’t come see her last night—or what I didn’t hope—that she regretted the kiss—I didn’t know.
“Son,” Mom said. “This is our new sheriff, Sunny Summers.”
“I know,” I said. “Nice to see you again, Sunny.”
Sunny took my hand, then allowed his gaze to rake over me.
I knew that I looked like shit.
Being out all night searching in the slums for the piece of shit that wound up dead had taken its toll on me.
I was dirty, had a new hole in my favorite jeans and I looked like I’d been on an all-night bender, instead of just being up all night.
“New cut?” he asked.
I tugged on the leather cut that denoted me a part of the Gator Bait MC and shrugged. “Wake’s wife got them for us. We feel bad when we don’t wear them.”
And having them on seemed to change the worldview of some of the people that we were in contact with. It was as if they knew that we wouldn’t fuck around if we were official. Which was complete bullshit. I didn’t need to have a motorcycle club at my back to be deadly. But whatever. Last night I would’ve taken any of the help I could get.
“It’s nice,” he said. “I like all the pink and green.”