I didn’t know what I was going to do. I could help end the war, and that would save a lot of lives. But it would cost me my freedom and force me into a marriage with a man I knew nothing about.
I stared at myself in the mirror. Who was I more loyal to, the club or myself? The people who took me in, raised me, protected me, gave me a good life, or my own stupid, selfish self?
Dad had never asked me to do anything for the club ever before. He had never even suggested that I do anything to help out. That should prove in itself how important this marriage would be and how much he cared about me.
That, and the fact that he was willing to murder Jetter just to free me from that marriage.
I sighed and left the bathroom, heading toward the kitchen for some coffee.
“Morning, princess.”
I nearly jumped out of my skin.
“Holy shit,” I said, backing up.
Clutch was sitting on the couch, grinning at me. His boots were off and his vest was tossed on a chair. He was holding a mug, and I realized I could smell coffee already.
“What are you doing here?” I asked him.
“Didn’t mean to startle you,” he said. “Spent the night, obviously.”
I was suddenly very aware of what I was wearing. I had on probably the most unattractive panties I owned and a very thin, very see-through white T-shirt.
And Clutch was staring at me with that delicious, starving look of his.
“I didn’t know you were crashing here,” I said.
“I am your bodyguard after all.” He kicked his feet out. “I’m liking the granny panties.”
I looked down at myself. “Uh, thanks.”
“Really. I would love to tear those off with my teeth.”
“I didn’t know you were here,” I said stupidly.
“You said that already. Go ahead, get some coffee. I’ll just be here admiring that perfect fucking ass of yours.”
I clenched my jaw and quickly walked back into my bedroom. That asshole didn’t have to start the morning like this. I grabbed my robe and tossed it around me, cinching it shut.
I went back out into the kitchen and he chuckled at me. I ignored him as I grabbed a cup of coffee.
“You got wasted last night,” he said.
“Yeah.” I walked over and sat down on a chair. “Sorry about that.”
“Don’t be. I get it.”
“Look,” I said, “I should apologize.”
“What for?”
“I said some things last night. Not very nice things.”
He shrugged. “Heard worse.”
I sighed, sipping my coffee. “And about the thing.”
“The thing?” he asked, teasing.
“Yeah. You know, what I told you.”
“About your arranged marriage.”
“Yeah, that thing. Don’t tell anyone, okay?”
“You have my silence.”
“Thanks.” I finished off my coffee and felt marginally more human but still absolutely mortified. I checked the clock hanging in the kitchen and cursed.
“What?” he asked.
“I have work in a half hour.”
He laughed, shaking his head. “Look at you. Such a model employee.”
I stood up, grumbling. “I guess you’re taking me?”
“If you want. I can follow you if you want to drive yourself.”
I was too embarrassed and hungover to argue. “Whatever,” I grumbled, and I walked off to take a shower.
A few minutes later, with the warm water beginning to rinse away some of the shame and awkwardness, I kept coming back to the way Clutch had taken care of me the night before.
I was sure that if he had made a move, I would have given myself to him. Instead, he was a perfect gentleman. Well, no, not exactly a gentleman, but he didn’t try to take advantage of me or anything like that. I shouldn’t have been surprised, but I knew his reputation as a ladies’ man. I was happy he didn’t try anything, but also strangely a little annoyed.
It wasn’t like I wanted him to take advantage of me; that was crazy. But I did want him, as much as I hated to admit that, and maybe it would be good if I were drunk the first time. That was stupid of course, and I wasn’t thinking straight.
Without meaning to, I had let Clutch get into my head. All he needed to do was talk a little dirty and give me that look and I was thinking about fucking him while drunk.
I got out of the shower, toweling off. I looked into the mirror and shook my head. What the hell was I thinking? Clutch was just another biker in the Demons, just another guy.
Sure, we had practically grown up together, but we really barely knew each other. I wasn’t about to risk anything with him, not when this marriage thing was hanging over my head. He was just my bodyguard, and that was it.
Work dragged painfully slow.
Like the day before, Clutch sat in a booth and basically watched me. This time he read a book on and off, something about World War II, but he was still a little unnerving.
It was hard to concentrate on my tables, and I made a few mistakes. Between Clutch’s intense gaze and my own mind buzzing about the marriage thing, I wasn’t really sure what I was doing.