Talkin' Trash (Bear Bottom Guardians MC 2)

But then again, I’d been a young girl, not quite an adult, trying to find my way in life and still a little pissed off at the world.

But I wasn’t a child anymore.

I was an adult, and I was allowed to make my own decisions.

Sometimes, I even ate cake for dinner and nobody yelled at me.

And if I wanted to have a baby with Linc James, star quarterback of a professional football team, and one of the most eligible bachelors in the United States, then I’d damn well do it!

It also pissed me off knowing that my stepfather had made that decision for me without first consulting me.

It was my life.

I might’ve chosen to wait anyway, but he hadn’t given me a choice.

Getting dressed in the first thing that I saw, which happened to be the t-shirt that I’d worn the night before, I slipped it on over my head and reached for the same pair of boxer shorts, too.

Once I was sufficiently covered—though the boxer shorts likely weren’t even needed since Linc’s t-shirt came down to my knees—I marched down the hall and into the living room, pissed off rage likely burning in my eyes.

I’d just gotten to the opening of the living room that led into the kitchen when I saw my step-father poking Linc in the chest.

Linc was dressed in underwear and jeans—and the only reason I knew he had on underwear was because I could read the ‘Under Armour’ that was wrapped around his waist. His jeans clung low to his hips, exposing at least an inch of the waistband of his underwear.

He also had tattoos on his back.

A lot of them.

I had seen him shirtless, but the last time I’d really been able to study his back and the myriad of ink on him, he hadn’t had nearly as many.

They covered him from the back of his neck all the way to his underwear.

I couldn’t make out any one tattoo in particular. It was just a bunch of swirls, lines, faces, clocks, animals and who knew what else all morphed into one.

Honestly, it looked rather cool and the red that colored in a few places of the mostly shades of gray and black tattoo made the entire thing pop.

Linc’s father’s, Jessie James, eyes met mine over the top of my stepfather’s head, and his mouth dropped open.

Neither Linc nor Steel had seen me come into the room yet.

“I told you years ago that I’d give it time,” Linc replied calmly, despite having Steel in his face and touching him. “But she’s mine now. Leave it alone.”

Steel’s jaw tightened. “I knew you were trouble.”

“You also knew that I was trouble,” I pointed out, barely restraining my anger as I inserted myself into the conversation. “But you didn’t give up on me.”

I’d been an awful child and an even worse teenager. At one point in our lives, my mother’s ex-husband, who’d been there for four years, had decided that leaving my mom while she was down was the best option for him.

My mom, having suffered a spinal stroke, had been struggling to make ends meet. Me, wanting my brother to have a pair of shoes that didn’t make him cry when they were shoved onto his feet, had attempted to steal a pair for him when Steel had caught me.

I’d tried it one other time as well before Steel let me know in no uncertain terms that no matter how good the reason was, stealing wasn’t ever okay.

And he’d saved me from having a record—which would’ve also put a damper on getting any kind of degree in the medical field.

But just because he saved me from doing stupid things, didn’t mean that I was stupid any longer.

I’d never been stupid—just desperate and angry.

But I wasn’t that same angry little girl anymore.

Steel turned slowly and stared at me.

He took in my wet hair, Linc’s shirt, and the very bottom inch of Linc’s underwear that I was wearing, before stopping to focus on something on my neck.

I lifted my hand and wondered if the beard burn that I’d received while in the shower was visible—and judging by the look on Steel’s face, it was.

Linc looked almost jovial, though, taking me in.

He winked at me over the top of my father’s head, and crossed his arms over his chest, waiting to see what would happen next.

“Why did your mother and I have to find out from somebody I work with, who found out from a gossip rag, that you are dating Linc—and having his baby?”

I bit my lip and drew a breath in through my nose in an effort to calm myself down. “First, because what Linc and I have is pretty new. Second, I’m not pregnant with Linc’s baby.”

Yet.

We hadn’t used protection either of the two times that we’d had sex this morning, although I had started on birth control this month.