Chapter 7 #2
Butcher shook his head. “Not interested.” Princess frowned at him.
That didn’t make sense because everything about Butcher screamed biker.
He had the attitude, bike, and scars to prove it.
And if Wade was right, and people looked up to him, then what was stopping him from starting his own club?
Men like him usually wanted power, brotherhood, and loyalty, right?
Her father had complained about clubs constantly popping up overnight.
He said bikers were territorial animals who formed packs because they craved control and violence.
But Butcher looked like the idea physically exhausted him. She just didn’t know why that was. Wade apparently wondered the same thing because he sighed dramatically. “One day I’m gonna get the full story out of you.”
“Not happening,” Butcher grumbled.
Princess crossed her arms over her chest. “You were in a club before, weren’t you?
” she asked. It was a guess, but a good one, judging from the shock on Butcher’s face.
Butcher slowly turned to walk back into the house, and Princess knew immediately she’d hit something important.
His eyes locked onto hers—dark and sharp.
She could see the warning behind them, but had no idea what he was warning her about.
“Princess,” Wade said carefully, “you got some kind of death wish?” She ignored him completely, because suddenly it all fit. The loneliness and the walls that Butcher kept in place. She could see it in the way that he carried grief like something stitched into his bones.
“You were,” she said quietly. “I’m right, aren’t I?” Butcher stared at her for one long second before grabbing his truck keys from the table that sat next to the front door.
“I’m going into the shop,” he said. Brushing past her. She watched as he walked away—just like that, and the conversation was over. Princess watched him disappear down the driveway and get into his truck. Something unsettling twisted low in her stomach as Wade whistled softly.
“Well,” he muttered. “That went better than expected.”
She blinked at him. “That was better than what, exactly? Because from where I stood, that was pretty rough to watch.”
“Yeah.” Wade leaned casually against the wall. “Usually when somebody gets too close to that subject, Butcher tears them apart. You’re standing here in one piece, so I think that went better than I thought it would.”
Princess glanced toward the road, where his truck disappeared. “He looked angry.”
Wade shook his head slowly. “Nah. When Butcher is angry, you’ll know it.
” His expression sobered slightly. “That?” He nodded toward the road that led into town.
“That was hurt.” The word landed harder than she expected, and Princess looked away because she suddenly understood something she hadn’t before.
Butcher wasn’t avoiding clubs because he hated them.
He avoided them because somewhere along the way, one had broken him.
She had spent most of the day pacing Butcher’s house, trying to figure out whether she should go into town, to find him at his shop, or stay put.
She had already pissed him off once today, and she didn’t want to push her luck too far.
He was not only fixing her car but also giving her a place to lie low while she waited for the parts to come in.
Pushing him further might land her living on the streets, and that was the last thing she needed with her father’s men looking for her.
Princess had somehow agreed to go to Wade’s bar when he asked her to come in that evening.
He refused to leave until she gave in and told him that she’d be there by seven.
The question was, would Butcher want to take her to the bar, or would she have to find a ride on her own?
Wade had offered to pick her up, but she didn’t want to be a bother, and she definitely didn’t want him to think that she had agreed to a date with him.
She was still fairly certain Wade’s main motivation was to annoy Butcher into emotional honesty, and unfortunately for Butcher, Princess found that objective hilarious.
Butcher showed up at about six-thirty, showered, and found her in her room getting ready to go out. “You’re all dolled up. Are you going somewhere?” he asked.
“Um, yes,” she said. “Wade invited me to his bar for dinner, and I agreed. Honestly, he refused to leave until I told him yes, but I am hungry, and you don’t have much food in the house.”
“Well, I can run to the store in the morning,” he offered. “You really shouldn’t go to Wade’s place alone,” he warned.
“Okay, then come with me,” she said.
“No,” he breathed. “It’s been a long day.”
“For you, maybe, but I’ve been stuck here. I could use some food and human interaction.” That last part was a lie, but she was desperate for a burger and some fries. If she had to pretend to be a socially starved debutant, she would.
“I’ll pick up some food for us, but Wade’s probably isn’t the kind of place you’re used to dining at,” he insisted.
She smiled at him. “You’d be surprised at the places where I’ve dined,” she said. “Listen, if you don’t want to go, I can just give Wade a call. He offered to come pick me up.” She watched as his expression went from slightly amused to just plain pissed off, and she knew that she had hit a nerve.
“Not happening,” he growled. “You have no idea what you’re getting into, Princess,” he said. She had a pretty good idea of what she was getting into, and none of it was going to end well for her.
“Fine,” he grumbled, “I’ll take you to the bar for some food. But we eat, and leave, got it?” She nodded, not hiding her smile.
“You’re enjoying this entirely too much,” Butcher muttered from the doorway while she fixed her makeup in the mirror.
She smiled faintly at his reflection. “You’re very grumpy for someone who insists he doesn’t care.”
“I don’t care,” he insisted.
“Sure, you don’t,” she said, reapplying her lipstick.
His eyes narrowed, and Princess hid another smile.
God, poking at him was fun. She finished smoothing lipstick across her mouth before turning around fully and froze, because Butcher was staring at her—and not at her face either.
His gaze dragged slowly over the fitted black jeans and dark red top she’d dug out of her suitcase before landing back on her eyes.
Heat curled low in her stomach instantly, and she knew that she was in trouble.
“You got a problem?” she asked lightly.
Butcher’s jaw flexed once. “Yeah,” he breathed.
Her pulse jumped traitorously. “What is it?”
His voice dropped lower. “That every man in that bar’s gonna look at you the way that I just did.
” Princess blinked at him. He definitely caught her off guard, but she didn’t want to let him know that.
A slow smile spread across her lips before she could stop it, and judging by the expression on Butcher’s face, he realized exactly what he’d just admitted to her.
He thought that she was hot, and Princess knew that could only lead to one thing—trouble.