Chapter 17
Chapter Seventeen
It’d been two weeks since Hatchet and I stopped pretending we didn’t want each other.
Sneaking around like a couple of fucking teenagers sounded exciting in theory, but the reality was searching for who might be watching before we kissed and me tiptoeing out of his house before sunrise, praying Jessa didn’t catch me during my walk of shame.
“We should tell them tonight,” Hatchet murmured against my neck, his voice gravely from sleep.
“Not yet,” I groaned. “Let’s wait till our one-month anniversary. Then they can’t say it’s just a fling.”
He shifted himself over me, his tattooed forearms braced on either side of my head. “I don’t give a damn what they say. This isn’t a fling.” His smirk skated the line between amused and exasperated.
I traced the ragged edge of a healed bullet wound just below his shoulder. “I know. But have you ever been with someone for longer than a month?”
He studied me for a moment, like he was trying to unravel where I was heading. “Is this an insult or a question?” he grumbled. “What’s your point?”
“There’s less argument after one month,” I explained. “Because at that point, you would have gotten bored with anyone else. We can explain to them that we’re serious then.”
“We should just rip it like a Band-Aid,” Hatchet insisted, ghosting his lips over my collarbone. “Lay it all out on the table.”
I let out a breath, my body already vibrating from his touch. “People in serious relationships need to agree on the important things. Merrick accepting this is important to me. We wait. Just a little bit longer.”
“Fine. You get what you want. But only if I get what I want.” He shifted his hips against me.
I rolled my eyes. “Jessa’s waking up any minute now. We don’t have time. I have to leave.”
Hatchet rolled away. “She knows you’re here.” He reached for his phone on the nightstand and thumbed it toward me. “She sent a text this morning to ask if you’re staying for breakfast.”
I sat, clutching the sheet to my chest. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
An infuriating grin spread across his face. “Because I like watching you squirm.” His phone pinged with a text, and he paused to read it. “And she expects us to be at the table in ten minutes. Quickie?”
I swung my leg over and straddled him, leaning down to brush his ear with my lips. “Ten minutes is not enough time, and you know it. We’ll wait. I’ll come over after dinner.”
“Great. Now I’m going to have to hide my boner all day,” Hatchet muttered.
When we finally made it to the kitchen, Jessa sat at the counter with two mugs of coffee, two plates with eggs and toast, and a smirk that mirrored Hatchet’s.
She pushed the plates toward us. “You realize I’ve seen you sneak out every morning this week?
” She pointed at Hatchet in mock disappointment.
“And you? What kind of example are you setting for me?”
Hatchet laughed quietly. “You’ve got a point.” He scratched the back of his neck. “We shouldn’t be hiding this from you. I don’t want you sneaking around. No shenanigans.”
I spooned a heap of eggs onto my toast and watched the two of them. Hatchet had a way of owning his mistakes. No excuses, no denial. Just straight accountability. Watching him go from the charming but lethal enforcer I’d always known to a protective parental figure shifted something in my chest.
Jessa laughed. “You think I’m ever bringing a guy home? I’m pretty sure any guy I date is going to piss his pants when he realizes there’s an entire motorcycle club at my back.”
“Perfect,” Hatchet growled. He took a bite of his toast and chewed it slowly.
“If he’s not man enough to stand up to us, he isn’t good enough for you.
I’m serious, though. I don’t want us to have secrets.
Well, except for the secret about Merci and me.
You need to keep that to yourself until we get a chance to tell Merrick. ”
Jessa rolled her eyes. “Got it. Selective honesty. Speaking of Merrick, can I skip dinner at his house tonight? Gracie invited me and some other girls over for a sleepover. They want to meet Chaos, so I’d be taking her, too.”
Hatchet pretended to mull it over, but I could see the wheels spinning in his head. If Jessa were gone for the night, we’d have the house to ourselves. Based on the girl’s grin, she knew it, too.
“Fine,” he said. “But I’ll be checking in with Bayou to make sure you’re behaving.”
She wrinkled her nose. “You’re kind of overprotective, you know that?”
“Someone has to look out for you, kid. You can’t hate me for wanting to keep you safe.”
Jessa huffed. “I might—just a little.”
“And you better make sure Chaos comes back in one piece. She’s still a puppy. I don’t want her getting hurt or eating something she shouldn’t.”
Jessa snorted. “Chill. I’m taking her to a sleepover, not doggy fight club.”
“First rule of doggy fight club? Don’t tell Hatchet about doggy fight club.”
Hatchet shot me a sideways glare. “Don’t you two start teaming up against me.”
I shoved his shoulder. “Too late. You’ve got two strong women in your life now.”
He wrapped an arm around me and pulled me into him.
“So,” Jessa said, eyes flicking between us. “If I’m gone all night, you two are just going to play board games and watch movies, right? No shenanigans?”
Hatchet grunted. “You worry about your plans, I’ll worry about mine. I mean it. Be good tonight.”
“I promise not to do anything you wouldn’t do,” she sniped as she headed to her room.
Hatchet shook his head, taking the last bite of his breakfast.
I snickered. “That’s not the comfort she thinks it is.”
“I’m sure she knows that,” he said, rubbing his beard. His jaw worked like he was still trying to decide if letting her go was a mistake.
“You good?”
He nodded. “Yeah, I just worry about her ending up in every possible bad situation my brain can come up with. Or screwing up and making her life worse off than it was before me.”
His raw honesty tugged at something deep in me. I brushed a hand on his arm, tracing the ink. “You’ll make mistakes, but you’re doing more good here than you can even imagine. You’ve shown up for her. Which is more than she can say about anyone else.”
He let out a slow breath, some of the tension easing from his shoulders. “See you after work. Think about telling Merrick at dinner?”
I hummed in consideration, pretending to weigh the idea. “Maybe,” I said, stepping closer until my chest brushed his. I lowered my voice to a whisper. “Or maybe I want to be your dirty little secret tonight.”
His fingers tightened on my hip. “I like the sound of that more than I should. Fuck, this is a bad idea. There’s no way I can keep hiding this.”
“You thrive on bad ideas.”
“I’m aware. You’re the best one I’ve ever had. Are you sure you want to keep this secret longer than we have to? Merrick’ll flip his shit when he finds out we’ve been keeping this from him.”
“I don’t want to keep us a secret forever. Just for now. I like having this to ourselves. No commentary. Well, minimal commentary now that Jessa knows.”
A reluctant grin tugged at his mouth. “She’s going to hold this over our heads to get whatever she wants.”
“She’s a smart girl.”
“Are you going to be good tonight?” he asked, his voice low. “Or are you going to fucking torture me?”
I smirked. “You like it when I torture you.” I let my hands slide slowly down his chest, nails scraping over his shirt.
He wrapped his hands around my wrists, stopping them from where they were headed. “Promise me that you’ll be a good girl at dinner.”
I tilted my head, batting my lashes up at him. “Define ‘good.’”
His grip tightened. “Not looking at me like you are right now. Not touching me under the table when your brother is sitting four feet away. Not making me walk out of there with a fucking hard situation in my jeans.”
“That’s oddly specific,” I said, biting back a laugh. “And it’s giving me a few ideas. You’ll have to wait to find out if they’re good or bad.”
“Merci.” His tone held a warning. “Promise me.”
I leaned in, brushing my lips against his jaw. “I promise to make tonight memorable,” I whispered sweetly.
He narrowed his eyes and let out a rough, frustrated groan. “If you pull any crazy shit, you better be ready for the consequences.”
Excitement flared within me. “I like the sound of that. Exactly how will you punish me?”
His gaze darkened. “Try me.”
“Oh, I plan to.”
He thought threatening me with punishment would make me behave. All it did was make me more determined to break his illusion of control.
* * *
My shift at the hospital was long and boring.
Assigned to pathology, I spent my day slicing specimens and peering at tissue slides through a microscope.
Colon polyps. Endometrial lining. Skin shavings.
Potentially the dullest rotation so far.
By the time I made it through all the biopsies, my neck ached, and my brain felt ready to melt.
I showered in the locker room, washing away the sharp scent of formalin.
I slipped into a paisley sundress and decided against the panties. They’d only get in the way later. I checked my reflection in the tiny mirror in the locker room, twisting my hair up and swiping on lip gloss.
The long hallway outside hummed with the usual hospital soundtrack—buzzing fluorescent lights, beeping monitors, and squeaky shoes on waxed linoleum. I opened the door and nearly walked straight into a wall of muscle and expensive cologne.
Luca.
“Where are you going?” he asked, the possessive edge in his voice instantly turning my gut to ice.
I tried to sidestep him. “None of your fucking business.”
He shifted with me, blocking the hall. His gaze dragged from my sandals up my bare legs before climbing to the low-cut V-neck. “You only wear dresses on dates,” he said, his eyes meeting mine. “Who are you seeing tonight?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” I taunted.
His fingers wrapped around my wrist. “Enough of this. You can’t keep fucking around on me. I’m losing patience.”