Chapter Ten
Katrina
I stared at the door.
He walked out without a word, without looking back to see the damage he had done. One minute his face was filled with anger, the next he had me pressed against the wall, kissing my face off.
Then he just... left.
The door shut with a soft click that echoed in the room.
My lips were tender, swollen from his assault. His taste still on my tongue; his warmth still heating my body. The cruelty of it was that I wanted him to come back.
The bathroom stall creaked open, and a woman stepped out. Our eyes met, mine wide with panic from the knowledge of her overhearing what happened between Derek and me. Hers filled with admiration and what looked like envy. Her heels clicked as she walked to the sink to wash her hands.
The room was silent except for the sound of running water and my heart beating loudly in my ears. When she was done, she reached beside me for a paper towel and looked at me.
“That was—” She paused and shook her head as if she were looking for the right words. “A man like that doesn’t walk away from what he wants.”
“It’s not like that,” I assured her, still unable to move from the place he left me.
“Honey, it is absolutely like that. If you can’t see it, it’s because you aren’t looking. Hell, I couldn’t see the two of you, but I damn sure felt it. That sexual tension doesn’t come around every day. Grab on to it and don’t let go, because it will ruin you in all the best ways.”
She winked and spun around, walking out the door and leaving me alone again. I peered at the stalls, expecting someone else to step out, but this time I was truly alone.
I looked at my reflection in the mirror and groaned. There was a flush on my face, my lips still swollen and tender. I gently touched them with my fingertips, her words running through my head.
Was she right?
Did Derek want me?
I shook my head and turned on the faucet, splashing icy water on my heated skin.
It didn’t matter what he wanted. I didn’t want him.
I mean, I wanted him—desperately. More than I had ever wanted anyone, and it was both exhilarating and terrifying.
For that reason alone, I had to stay away from him.
I couldn’t trust myself to make the right decisions where men were involved.
I made my way back to the table, and Frankie studied me. Zero looked behind me, and I knew he was looking at where Derek sat with Jack and Sam.
“Everything okay?” he asked.
“Yup,” I replied. “A woman in the restroom wanted to talk to me.”
“Someone you know?” he asked suspiciously.
“No.” I chuckled. “Women’s bathrooms are the one place we always feel comfortable talking to strangers.”
He looked at Frankie for confirmation, and she smiled. “It’s true,” she said. “Slyce said something about us all being on the same level in the bathroom. It’s why women usually go in pairs when they’re at a party.”
My daughter had my back, but I’d be a fool to think she wouldn’t grill me the moment we got home. The tension at the table assured me Zero had seen Derek follow me down the hallway. And the smirk on Frankie’s face said the same thing.
Our meals came, and we talked about nothing.
Frankie carried most of the conversation, asking Zero about the club and how it was different from the Death Dogs’ clubhouse.
It was a reminder of everything she had been through.
More than a year of living in fear, walking on eggshells, waiting for violence to erupt.
Clay had done his best to keep us sheltered from the worst of it. I had to give him credit for that. He also wouldn’t let us leave. He’d kept us prisoners, using love and safety as an excuse.
“Who wants dessert?” Zero asked.
The entire evening I’d felt Derek’s eyes on me, and I was ready to leave. I smiled at Zero, trying not to let my discomfort show. I’d even planned to let him order dessert, though my motives weren’t pure.
When Derek asked me if I was on a date, my first instinct was to say no. Because this wasn’t a date. Not for me. But the anger in his voice, and the words that woman said... I wanted to make him jealous.
Frankie came to my rescue again and said, “I’m actually kind of tired.”
I studied her face, and she looked a little pale. “Are you feeling alright?” I asked, feeling her forehead. She wasn’t warm, but that could still mean the beginning of a virus.
“I’m just tired.”
“Then let’s get you home,” Zero insisted as he waved down the server. He paid the check, and when we stood up to leave, I turned to grab my jacket on the back of my chair, and my eyes met Derek’s. His gaze burned into me, a mixture of anger, concern, and unmistakable lust.
A chill shivered up my spine, and I looked away, focusing on my daughter; she was my priority. I wrapped my arm around her shoulder, and she leaned against me. Zero placed his hand on the small of my back, dropping it quickly when I stiffened.
The drive home was quiet, and I sat in the back with Frankie. When I checked her forehead a second time, she was a little warmer. I unlocked the door and sent her to bed, letting her know I would be right there.
Zero didn’t hesitate when I turned back to him; he leaned in for a goodnight kiss. His lips were soft, practiced. It was pleasant, but forgettable.
His hands cradled my face, and maybe I should have pulled away. Maybe I should have pushed him back instead of giving him a false sense of hope that this might go somewhere.
But I wanted to feel something similar to what Derek made me feel.
There was nothing. No fire, no desperation. No consuming need that made my knees weak and my mind go blank. In fact, my mind fixated on the kiss.
Only, it was the wrong kiss.
When he pulled back, Zero smiled. Mistaking my concession for desire. And I, in my need to be polite, smiled back.
“I’ll stop by tomorrow,” he said, brushing his thumb over my cheek. “I hope Frankie is feeling better in the morning.”
“Thank you.” The words felt hollow and unemotional, and I knew he thought my distraction was concern for my daughter.
And I allowed him to think so. I didn’t correct him; I didn’t tell him there wouldn’t be anything between us because instead of standing up for myself, I allowed yet another man to believe I was interested.
Because it was easier.
Because it was safer.
Right now, here on this porch, it was safer to let him think there was more than to tell him no and risk his anger or his retribution. I had to think of my daughter first. My feelings, my desires—they didn’t matter.
It didn’t matter that Derek’s kiss had felt like I was drowning and he was the air I needed. It didn’t matter that what I felt in those few minutes, when his lips moved over mine, and the weight of his body pressed me into the wall, was more than I had ever felt in my entire life.
Because I couldn’t trust my emotions. My emotions had led me down the wrong path more than once. I felt desire for Richard in the beginning, felt security with Clay at first. I didn’t feel anything for Zero, so it made sense that he was the safer option.
Because what I felt for Derek was so much more, which would only lead to more heartache and more danger. Zero was a better choice. The safer choice.
Once he disappeared down the road, I slipped inside and found Frankie on the couch. Her arms were folded over her chest as she glared at me.
“You let him kiss you?” she accused. “I thought this wasn’t a date?”
I opened my mouth and quickly closed it, unable to form words that would explain what I was feeling. Slyce’s words cut through my head, pun intended, and I realized what she had been trying to say.
Frankie had become my best friend. My confidant. But I had to remind myself she was twelve. She’d barely started puberty; she didn’t understand relationships between grown men and women.
“I told you to go to bed. You aren’t feeling well.”
“I’m fine,” she said, hopping up from the couch to follow me to the kitchen. I studied her face; the color had returned. I pressed a hand against her forehead and scowled.
“You were faking?” I asked. “How the hell do fake paleness?”
Frankie shrugged. “It worked, didn’t it?”
“Francesca—”
“Stop,” she said, cutting me off with her hand in the air before I could finish her full name. “You didn’t want to be there any longer than I did. Besides, I saw Derek follow you to the bathroom. Zero did too.”
“He didn’t follow me to the bathroom,” I lied.
“So you didn’t talk to him?”
I gaped at my daughter. I was beginning to wonder if Miss Fredricks had lied to me and Frankie was really ten years old when I adopted her. Because the child asking me these questions was entirely too mature for her age.
That was probably my fault, too.
“Mom, it’s okay if you like Derek. I like him too. I just wish he liked me.” She shrugged. “But I won’t always live with you. So as long as he isn’t mean to me, I think you should go for it.”
What had I done to my daughter?
What had I taught her?
“Sweetie, no. If I ever decide to start dating, or if I decided to get married again one day, it wouldn’t be to someone who did the bare minimum where you are concerned. I would never invite someone into our lives who didn’t want to be a father to you.”
“I don’t want you to be lonely.”
“Baby, I’m not lonely. I have you, and I will always have you. You are my everything, and you will always come first.” I squeezed her tight and said, “Now off to bed on the off chance your body didn’t get the memo about your acting abilities.”
“I love you, Mom.”
“I love you, baby. With everything I have.”
She trudged down the hall, and I made myself a cup of coffee. Slipping quietly through the front door, I sat on my porch. The evenings were getting colder, but I loved how quiet it was in Diamond Creek. The dark sky, unpolluted with light leaking from skyscrapers and cities that never slept.
And the stars.
I’d never seen so many stars in my life. Time moved differently here; it wasn’t late, but the street was quiet. One by one, I watched porch lights turn off and windows go dark as neighbors ended the day, until everything around me fell silent.
The sound of tires on pavement, a sound I never knew existed, sent a shiver down my spine. Headlights from a familiar truck appeared a few houses down and slowly made their way closer until the truck pulled into my driveway and shut off.
Too afraid to move, I sat frozen as his door opened and one booted foot hit the asphalt, followed by another. He closed the door softly, barely making a sound, and leaned against the side of the vehicle.
We stared at each other, neither saying a word about what had happened at the restaurant, but also not able to look away.
I let my eyes roam over his body. His snug fitted jeans and work boots.
The black henley shirt he wore under his flannel.
His hair mussed, as if he’d run his hands through it in frustration.
Or maybe anger.
Whatever it was, wasn’t about me. I didn’t ask him to follow me in the restaurant. Didn’t ask him to kiss me and walk away. And I didn’t ask him to come here.
He pushed off the side of his truck and walked closer, his strides slow and sexy. His hands hid in his pockets, and I wondered if he’d done it for the same reason my hands tightened around my coffee cup.
Did he struggle the way I did? Wanting to reach out, knowing it was a mistake. Knowing that no matter what we wanted, there was something between us. A distance that we couldn’t cross.
I just didn’t know why.