Rough Hard Fierce: A Bad Boy Romance Boxed Set (Chicago Underground #1-3)

Colin nodded like this pinball of a conversation was completely normal. “I’ll be in the kitchen.”


I wondered if he’d really be there when I got out. Maybe he’d think about my issues or just the fact that I came with a kid and bolt out the door the second the water started. The thoughts churned my stomach, but if he left, it would be for the best. Definitely for him.

The water shocked my system. This is really happening, it berated me, so stop fucking around. And I wanted this, wanted Colin, wanted so many things that I didn’t have a right to. But no matter how little I deserved it, I could never stop hoping.

I threw on my softest T-shirt and sweatpants and shuffled into the living room, afraid of what I would find. What I found was Colin with practically a party platter at the kitchen table.

Deli meat and cheese, grapes, and crackers decorated a couple of plates. I recognized it all from my fridge, taken out of packages and laid out like this was a soiree instead of a crummy apartment in Stone Park.

“Thought you might be hungry,” he said.

My stomach grumbled its agreement. “I have to pick up Bailey first. My daughter.”

“Oh,” he said. “Your car is—”

“She’s just upstairs,” I said. “My friend can take me to get my car tomorrow.”

“I’ll have someone drive it back. Don’t worry.”

And for some reason I didn’t. Worrying was a well-worn shoe for me, but in the surreal dark of this night I accepted his word. I accepted him. He’d have someone drive it back. I shouldn’t worry. I was safe.

Shelly was groggy when she let me in. “How’d it go?” she mumbled.

“Brought a man back.”

Her eyes snapped open, full alert. “What?”

She’d been the one to teach me the rules. And by teach, I meant she’d drilled them into me, her lessons replete with stories of women who hadn’t followed the rules. Even though most everyone at the club held their hookups at their apartments, it wasn’t the safe way to play. And considering I had Bailey and also that my dates tended to be assholes of the first order, I played it safe. Relatively speaking.

“Well, he brought me back, technically. I think I’m going to”—what the hell had we agreed to?—“well, to see him again.”

Shelly inspected me for a long moment as the suspicion faded from her face and a knowing smile bloomed. “You are, huh?”

“Shut up,” I said, though I was more embarrassed than mad. “I didn’t agree to marry the guy.”

The light of laughter gleamed in her eye. “What’s his name?”

“Colin,” I grumbled.

She sang under her breath. “Allie and Colin, sitting in a tree…”

“Oh, great. You’re in first grade.” I marched into the bedroom to fetch Bailey, ignoring Shelly’s tinkle of laughter behind me. And continued ignoring her smirk as I passed her on my way out, laden with a sleeping baby girl.

Shelly’s soft voice followed me down the stairs before she shut the door. “Then comes Bailey in a baby carriage.”

Back in my apartment, I slipped past the kitchen and carried Bailey straight to her bedroom, where she settled immediately. The faded pink toddler bed was old and used, but it had a certain charm. Something old-fashioned and innocent. As soon as I’d seen it at Goodwill, I’d spent too much money on it. It didn’t fit with the rest of my sparse apartment, but it fit Bailey.

She was the only thing good and clean in my life. If I had to release the darkness inside me once a month in order to keep it away from her, I had never minded doing so. But now there was Colin, and presumably he would not be okay with me making solitary trips to the club for a quick, dirty fuck. Neither did he want to be rough with me himself. I didn’t see how this could work out in the end, but I couldn’t bring myself to let him go.

In the kitchen Colin had piled together a sandwich from the contents of the plates and poured a glass of milk for me. I sat down with this strange, achy feeling. Guilt, maybe. I’d never had someone take care of me like this, not ever. There’d been my dad, but I’d been the one who needed to make dinner if I wanted it done. It was the kind of thing a mother would do, but I’d never had one, at least that I could remember. Who knew Colin could be motherly?

“Thanks.” For everything, I wanted to say, not just for the sandwich. Not even for protecting me from the guy at the club. Thank you for seeing my flaws and wanting me anyway. But those words hung in the air, just out of reach.

“You’re welcome,” he said, his face blank. He stood up, grabbed my keys from the counter. “I’ve got to go. I’ll make sure your car is back by morning. ”

He rummaged through a drawer and shoved a piece of paper and pen into my hands. I scribbled my number on the paper and kept my eyes downcast as he plucked it from my fingers.

I was used to feeling competent. In my work and in my life. It wasn’t a wonderland, but it was mine. Even the date nights were an extension of that control—they were on my terms. But now I felt bumbling, inept, unable to do basic things like date a guy.