“I’ve got something better for you. After we pick up the t-shirts, I’ll get it for you.” Her words were direct and final, as if she expected no argument from me.
“T-shirts?” Maybe it was my fuzzy brain, but I couldn’t figure out what she meant by that statement. Not to mention the way she assumed I wanted whatever she had to offer me for my sore throat.
“Yeah, the t-shirts I’ve gotta collect at Woolloongabba.”
I frowned. “I thought I was dropping you off somewhere?”
She sighed as if I was exasperating her. “No, I’ve just gotta pick the shirts up and then take them home.”
Glancing at her for a moment before turning back to watch where I was driving, I asked, “Where do you live?”
“In The Valley.” She paused before asking, “Why is there a biker tailing you?”
My gaze flicked to the rear-view mirror and I sighed. “Because my boyfriend is trying to be kind to me while he’s away. He asked that guy to keep on eye on me while I’m sick and make sure I’m okay.”
“By the way you sighed, I’m taking that to mean you don’t appreciate his kindness?”
“No, I do…I just don’t like the guy he asked to help him. I’d prefer any of the other club members to this one.”
She shifted in her seat and rested her feet against the dash as if we were old friends and she had every right in the world to do that. If we were in anyone else’s car, I’d ask her to remove them, but I didn’t care in my car, so I said nothing. “Why did you get involved with a biker in the first place?”
The way she asked this question made me think she thought hooking up with a biker was the worst decision in the world. And yet, there didn’t seem to be any judgement in her tone. “Have you ever dated men who screwed you over?”
“Uh, yeah…haven’t we all?”
I shook my head. “No, I don’t think all women have, Scarlett. But I have, more than once. When I met Scott, I felt this instant awareness that he was as straight up as they came. And I was right – he’s always been honest with me, treated me well and stayed loyal. I fell in love with a man, not a biker.”
She silently processed that. “Why is there a sad tone in your voice?”
My brows pulled together. “What do you mean?”
“Just then, when you talked about him being loyal and treating you well, you sounded almost sad.”
I gripped the steering wheel a little harder and ignored the tightening in my chest. Tears threatened at the back of my eyes and I furiously blinked them away. How had she picked up on that?
As I tried to figure out how to answer her, she pointed to the street coming up on the left. “Turn here.”
I quickly indicated and made the turn, almost hitting a car because my focus had been diverted from driving to thinking about my guilt over taking Scott for granted after my miscarriage.
Scarlett straightened in her seat and said, “Jesus, are you trying to kill us today?”
Anger at myself took over, but I directed it at her. “Don’t ask me anymore personal questions and we might make it there in one piece,” I snapped while scowling at her.
She raised her brows and murmured, “I see I hit on a touchy subject.”
“Yes. And not one I want to discuss.”
We drove the rest of the way in silence, but I stewed on her question the whole way. By the time we arrived at our destination, I was tense with irritation and sick with my cold. Not a great combination.
And definitely not a mood to be in to deal with Rogue.
* * *
I waited outside the rundown old Queenslander Scarlett directed me to. The heat of the day and the lack of air conditioning in my car caused me to wait on the footpath. And this gave Rogue ample opportunity to harass me some more.
He lit a cigarette and sauntered my way, his eyes trailing down my body.
Asshole.
“I’ve known Scott Cole a long time and never once seen him this hung up on a chick. Gotta say, though, I’m hedging my bets as to how long this will last. My best guess is it won’t take him long to get tired of you and he’ll move on to new tits and ass soon.”
I stared at him in disgust knowing full well all he wanted was for me to take his bait and argue with him. It took all my willpower to remain silent, but I did. That only managed to make him try harder to elicit a response out of me.
Taking a step closer to me, he sneered, “You know I’m right so you’ve got no comeback, have you?”
Rogue was a good-looking man, but ugly was all I saw, and I wondered how many women had fallen for him and lived to regret it. I imagined that number to be high.
I took a step away from him, but his hand curled around my arm and held me in place. “Where do you think you’re going? I’m talking to you,” he barked, his dislike of me, clear in his tone.