Merry Blissmas (Biker Bitches 3) - Page 5

Although the girl tried to engage in chitchat as she sat down to watch the program with her, Bliss gave only monosyllabic replies.

“I guess I’ll go upstairs, put away my new clothes, and wrap Willa’s present.”

“Okay.”

Ginny walked toward the steps then paused, coming back to stand beside the couch.

“Is there a reason you don’t like me?”

Bliss gaped up at her. Women like Ginny never confronted someone when they weren’t happy.

“I don’t dislike you.”

“You’ve made it very plain you don’t want to be friends.”

“Girls like you never want to be friends with women like me.”

“What are you talking about?” A frown showed her confusion.

Bliss sighed. “I’m a bitch. I’ve tried to be friends with women like you, but I fail every time. I make them mad and hurt their feelings. I try to steal their men, which really makes them hate me. So, I’m just saving both of us the pain of living in the same house once you decide to hate my guts.”

“You actually try to steal your friends’ husbands?”

“All but one, and that was Evie’s husband.”

“Not that I know who Evie is, but why didn’t you try to steal her husband?”

“If you knew Evie, you wouldn’t have to ask that question. She would knock my teeth out. Her husband is King. He opened the new restaurant and bar in town.”

“I haven’t been in there yet. It’s a little out of my budget,” Ginny said wryly.

Bliss rolled her eyes. “I’m sure there are a couple of guys who would be more than willing to treat you.”

“I don’t need a man to pay my way when we go out.”

“See, I told you I would make you mad.”

“I’m not angry, I’m just stating a fact.” Ginny stared at her curiously. “Do you only go to places like that when someone else is paying?”

“Of course.” Bliss shrugged. “My money goes into a savings account. I’m not going into a nursing home that hires God knows who. I’ll be able to afford my own caretaker.”

“What if you don’t get old? What if you get killed in an accident or drop dead suddenly?”

Bliss stared up at the woman, dumbfounded. “Morbid much?”

“I’m not the one saving for a personal caregiver.”

Touché. “What are you saving for?”

“You have to earn more than you spend to save, and I’m still trying to make ends meet.”

Bliss frowned. “I’m not trying to get personal, but Willa’s not even charging us that much rent, and I’m splitting the bills with you. You have two jobs: one, helping Willa with her baking and the other, working part-time at The Last Riders’ clubhouse, cooking. You should be doing more than making ends meet.”

“I paid all the utility deposits, and Willa offered to sell me this house, so I want to come up with a deposit before she changes her mind or someone else buys it.”

“Willa’s not like that. If she offered to let you buy this house, she will.”

“I don’t want to take a chance. I would never get enough credit to purchase a home like this. Willa is willing to take less than market value because she and Lucky are building their own home. I want a place to call my own that no one can take away from me.”

Bliss swallowed hard. Ginny sounded just like her when she was her age. She still remembered how naïve she had been. It had taken her a lot of years for the truth to finally smack her across the face.

There was no such thing as home. It was a fictional word to describe a house, just like the people who lived in them calling themselves a family. As soon as trouble hit their door, however, they were quick to throw in the towel and toss it all away, exactly like she had.

Every single time she had begun to believe she had a home when she was younger, she would come home from school to find her meager possessions sitting outside a padlocked door and her mother explaining they had to find a new place to stay. What followed were weeks at homeless shelters until she could make enough money to rent them another small place.

It became normal to see a stranger taking her mother in a dark alley or the backseat of their car while she would patiently wait for her in whatever fast food restaurant was closest. She would eat her small hamburger and fries slowly so she wouldn’t get strange looks from people wondering why she was sitting by herself so long.

But she was older and wiser. She could find a place to sleep anywhere, but she would never put her belief in having the dream of a perfect home with a white picket fence.

Even being a member of The Last Riders hadn’t prevented her from losing the room she had thought of as hers. She had been able to share her bed or one of the brothers’ if she had wanted, but she had also had the option of closing the door and being left alone when she had wanted to curl up on her bed and watch television or read a book while knowing the other members would still be there when she opened the door.

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