“So, you’re admitting I’m your man?”
“I guess I am.”
Train frowned. “Damn.”
“What?” she asked, instead of angrily drilling one of her heels into his foot. If he didn’t want to be her man, he could go …
“I told Mick I didn’t have a woman. You made a liar out of me.”
As satisfied as Gollum with a can of tuna, she strutted away from him, calling out, “Don’t forget my tequila.”
She was so busy strutting she accidently bumped into a woman who was going toward the same couch.
“Sorry, my bad,” Killyama apologized to the gorgeous redhead next to Cash.
“It was my fault. I was admiring your top.” Rachel’s friendly flattery would normally have her returning the compliment with one of her own, or thanking her. Before she could do either, Rachel’s face turned blood red and she changed directions toward the bar with a surprised Cash following.
Killyama searched her memories to remember if she had insulted the woman before. If what Train had said was true about The Last Riders not holding a grudge against her, Rachel’s behavior was inexplicable.
Shrugging, she went to the couch. Stud stood up to let her have his seat, sitting on the arm of the couch next to Sex Piston. Shade had taken the chair in front of it, with Lily on his lap. Evie was standing next to them, talking to Lily. When she saw her taking a seat, she gave her a smile before saying she was going to find King.
“Do I stink or something?” Killyama lowered her voice so Shade and Stud wouldn’t hear her embarrassing question.
Sex Piston inconspicuously sniffed. “No, why?” she answered from out of the corner of her mouth as she lifted her beer to disguise their conversation.
“Rachel and Evie took off like their tails were on fire. Evie, I can understand, but I never laid a hand on Rachel.”
“Maybe you’re imagining it?”
“Maybe.” She shifted away from Sex Piston as Train managed to find room to sit down next to her.
“You’re a little close, aren’t you?” Killyama wiggled on the couch cushions, managing to give herself breathing room and regretting cinching the corset so tightly.
“I like being close to you. If you don’t have enough room, you could sit on my lap.”
“Never mind. I’m good.” Sex Piston had said she didn’t smell, but she didn’t want to take any chances.
She tried to remember what she had eaten that night. Maybe she should go to her car and grab the pack of gum she always kept stashed there.
She was sidetracked when Stud and Train started talking about his new bike.
“Have you decided what color you want to paint it?”
Train turned toward her. “What do you think?”
“Black,” she answered without thinking.
“Can’t be black. That’s Stud’s bike’s color.”
“Why does that matter?”
“When I race him again, it’ll be easier for you to see which one of us is in the lead.”
Stud laughed. “Should I be worried?”
“Yes.” Train placed a possessive hand on her thigh. “It’s hard for a man to see his woman rooting for another man, even if you like him.”
“Can’t say I blame you. It’s why I started racing again. Sex Piston didn’t give me the time of day until she saw one of my races.”
Sex Piston didn’t deny the accusation because it was the truth. Stud had been going nowhere in his attempts to catch her until she had seen the race they had all gone to.
“Watching you race might have gotten you in my bed, but it was your kids that let you steal my heart.”
Stud leaned down to whisper something into Sex Piston’s ear that had love simmering in her eyes.
“How did the conference go with your girls’ teacher?” Train asked, turning to Stud and taking his attention away from Sex Piston.
“Sex Piston and I decided we don’t want them to become foreign exchange students. It’s an excellent program, but we don’t feel comfortable having another couple we don’t know take responsibility for them. The girls haven’t talked to us in a week.”
Train nodded in agreement. “If I had kids, I wouldn’t have been able to do it, either.” He stared down at the beer in his hand. “You remember Penni, Shade’s sister?”
Stud’s mouth twitched. “Yes, she’s hard to forget.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t think you know this, but Penni has a friend who was born in Paris. Grace moved to the United States when she was older. She actually works with Penni. I mentioned to Penni that you two were having a problem trying to decide what to do, and she talked to Grace. She called a friend of hers who still lives in Paris, and she offered to let the girls stay with her for the summer or a school term. Seems when her daughter was vacating in America, she was killed. She said it would give her something to do—taking the girls shopping and sightseeing.”