Blood & Bones: Whip (Blood Fury MC 11)

He probably thought she’d lost her damn mind.

She snagged it and wiped her thumb off. “Again, I’m sorry. I invaded your personal space.”

He snorted and then that damn boyish smirk tipped his lips up.

That was not helping things.

Act normal! “I… uh… Thank you for the coffee.”

“Sure you don’t want a glazed donut? Bet you haven’t eaten since breakfast.”

His blue eyes had both a knowing look in them and a damn sexy sparkle to go with that even sexier smirk. She shook her head as both an answer and to shake herself free of whatever was happening in the tight quarters where they stood shoulder to shoulder.

“I haven’t, I…” Maybe that was what was wrong with her. Low blood sugar. Of course!

A donut would solve all this foolishness.

She reached past him, her arm pressing against his since he remained in the way and didn’t bother to move as she grabbed one from the open box. She tucked it into the napkin she was still holding and lifted it up. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me, thank Lee. She’s the one who gets them every mornin’.”

She glanced down at the donut since it was now late in the afternoon. It was probably stale.

It didn’t matter. It would knock her blood sugar levels back to normal so she could stop acting like a silly school girl.

“You guys eat donuts every morning?”

He shrugged. “Yeah.”

She gave him a once-over. “How do you stay… How are you not…” Was there a good way to ask him why he wasn’t fat without being offensive?

No, there wasn’t.

But he answered her anyway. “Want the truth?”

What kind of question was that? Who wouldn’t want the truth? “Of course.”

“We fuck a lot.”

Fallon blinked.

And here she was worried about offending him. She cleared her throat.

Suddenly she just couldn’t hold back any longer.

She burst out laughing.

And she couldn’t stop.

She laughed until her stomach ached, her eyes watered, and she couldn’t catch her breath. “Oh… I…”

His brow pulled low. “Wasn’t supposed to be funny.”

She lifted a hand. “I know but…” Then she burst out in a fresh batch of giggles.

Giggles.

She was giggling.

No doubt about it.

She had lost her damn mind.

Chapter Four

Whip shoved the last bite of the donut into his mouth, wiped his fingers off on his coveralls and, while he chewed, crossed his arms over his chest, watching her laugh.

And laugh.

And laugh some more.

Did she fucking snap or something?

She was actually crying and almost heaving. She even folded over in half to the point her face was at her knees. All she had to do now was slap her thigh like in some cheesy sitcom.

Only she was no cheesy sitcom, she was far from it.

In fact, after a second, once he realized she wasn’t having a complete mental breakdown, her reaction pulled a smile from him. Even though he hadn’t meant what he said to be funny.

At least, he didn’t find it fucking funny, but apparently, she did. He was okay with that because her laugh did shit to him he didn’t expect.

He grabbed his coffee and sucked about half of it down to wash any remains of the half-stale donut into his gut. Then he wiped his arm across his mouth and crossed them again, along with his ankles, as he waited out her laughing jag.

Once she could sort of breathe, she finally tried to speak. “It’s just so…” a hiccup-laugh bubbled from her, “refreshing.”

“What is?”

“The honesty in which you said that.”

He shrugged. “Asked if you wanted the truth. Gave you the truth.”

“I was expecting you to say you go to the gym or for a run… I…”

The gym? They had what could be called a “gym” at the farm and sometimes he went in with Easy and some of the other guys to hit the heavy bag or to lift weights, but he didn’t do it on the regular. None of them did.

Except for Sig. He used the heavy bag a lot. In fact, almost every day. But he had a good reason for that.

The rest of them wandered in every once in a while when they began to develop beer guts. The only one who didn’t give a shit about his gut was Dutch.

Beer gut or not, the Original got more pussy than any of them. To Whip, that was proof women didn’t give a fucking shit about six-packs or…

Droopy, gray-haired, wrinkled balls.

Whip snorted at his own thought.

Fallon lifted a palm. “I’m… s-so sorry. I don’t mean to laugh.” Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes had a sheen to them.

She was gorgeous. Absolutely fucking gorgeous. Enough to make him lose his damn breath.

Some women’s laugh were a turn-off. Especially when they brayed like an upset donkey. Or snorted like a pot-bellied pig.

But Fallon’s laugh…

Damn.

It definitely got him right in the gut. It made every fucking cell in his body stand up and pay attention to the blonde with the chin-length hair and bright blue eyes.