“Hey, pervs, can we focus?”
“Sorry.” Chloe sounded a little more breathless than she had a few moments ago.
He’d be ignoring that.
“Look, everything’s fine here. I’d love for you to visit but not meddle in my shit. Olivia’s just slumming here for a few weeks, and then she’ll head back to her fancy life in Chicago.”
“Hmm.”
He frowned. “What’s that mean?”
“Nothing! Fine, I won’t push. But I still want to visit.”
“Door’s always open, Clo.”
“Great. Last thing I’m gonna say. Be nice to her, Scott.”
He rolled his eyes to the sky and bit his tongue.
“You might not understand her world, but that doesn’t mean her problems aren’t real. The closeness of the club is one of the things that saved me. Don’t deny her that if she needs it.”
Ugh, way to lay on the guilt.
“Thought you were butting out?”
“I am! I said I was done. So how are you? You been controlling your anger?”
For fuck’s sake. If he needed a lecture, he’d call his mom. “Goodbye, Chloe.”
“Ugh! You’re so annoying! Bye! I’ll call you with the details. I love you,” she rushed out before he disconnected.
Shaking his head, he hit the throttle and started the trip back to the Handlers’ farm, but it wasn’t the mind-clearing ride he’d been hoping for. Instead, it was fraught with thoughts of Olivia and questions about why she’d come to Florida and why the thought of her as an ol’ lady wasn’t horrifying.
In fact, it almost sounded good.
CHAPTER TEN
FOR THE THIRD time over the past week, Scott caught Olivia frowning at her phone. She sat on a picnic table outside the clubhouse, oblivious to his presence. He’d be lying if he didn’t admit to being curious.
If he had to guess, he’d say texts from her ex-fiancé.
Were they pissed-off messages, cursing her out and spewing hatred?
Were they sweet words of love, hoping to win her back?
Were they hot? Full of raunchy promises of long erotic nights if she returned?
That’s what he’d send, though. With the way she scowled at the phone, he’d guess it was the first.
The guy was an asshole. At least Deke had thought so the one or two times they’d met over the years. What was his name? Lucas? Larry? Something like that. Scott hadn’t given enough of a shit to remember. He recalled the important details—Jerk who’d stared down his surgically enhanced nose at Deke and hadn’t bothered to hold back on his disapproval of Deke’s visit.
She was better off without the guy.
She huffed, making her shoulders rise and fall, then set the phone face down on the picnic table. Instead of leaving, she stared off into the distance. He didn’t like the tension in her spine or the bunched shoulders.
Brooke made no attempt at hiding how much she loved Olivia. They hung out daily, and she’d been invited to every club event over the past week. It made it hard to avoid her, but he’d done his damnedest. Even if she’d seemed to lose the stick up her ass since she’d arrived, his head was too fucked up over Deke to attempt a friendship. Not to mention he popped a boner every time he got close to her like he was some high schooler who couldn’t control urges.
It probably had something to do with the fact her uniform had changed from expensive dresses to tanks and cutoffs, much like Brooke. He’d still never seen her with a hair out of place or without perfect makeup and nails, but at least she no longer looked like she was heading to a church brunch every day.
Jinx wandered up to the picnic table and sat his huge ass next to Olivia. She tensed as the table creaked, then relaxed and smiled at him. Scott forced himself to ignore the hot twist in his gut as he watched her laugh at whatever the hell stupid shit Jinx was spewing. Within a few minutes, she was leaning her head on his shoulder as they chatted, and Scott was flexing his fists at his sides.
“Down, boy,” Tracker said, snickering. “You look like a snorting bull right now, and Jinx is wearing a red shirt, so maybe chill out?”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
With a chuckle, Tracker shook his head. “Nothing, man. You need her to go inside?”
He glanced down the road where a shiny Mercedes was stopped, the driver talking to JT. The hangaround pointed toward the clubhouse, and the driver resumed driving.
“Nah. Pretty sure Devos was the one to hire Lobo, so I want him to lay eyes on Olivia. He gave Lobo money to harass her and Brooke. I want him to know who she is and how serious I am about him staying the fuck away from her.”
“Your ol’ lady, right?” Tracker said, doing a shit job disguising his smirk.
“Fuck off.”
“Hey!” Tracker lifted his hands. “You’re the one who told Devos she was your woman.”