“Didn’t I? Sorry, my bad.”
Letting the door close, Jewell reached for her cell phone to text Shade.
Dude here saying King sent him.
Jewell was about to tell the stranger he could wait outside until she was given the go-ahead as to what to do with him when Shade fired back a text, stalling the effort.
Send him to the club. I’ll meet him out front.
Pressing the bar again, Jewell used her hip to open and prop the door open. “Shade will be waiting for you.” Pointing toward the club house, Jewell let the stranger pass.
“Thanks for the help. Stay off that ladder.”
“Fuck off.”
Jewell didn’t wait to watch him head for the long flight of stairs leading to the club before going back inside the building and letting the door close behind her.
“By the way, I’d rethink your plans of getting laid in Ohio. Storm report coming in says Central Kentucky is experiencing a massive snowfall. Cars are trapped on the interstate, and the governor is calling for everyone to stay off the roads unless it’s an emergency. I don’t consider getting laid an emergency, do you?”
Jewell hastily pulled the door open, letting the snow warning fly over her head when she realized the fucker had heard more than she had expected. If the stranger had heard her venting about getting laid, he had also heard about her kissing Reaper.
Fucking hell.
It killed her, but she tried to make an effort to minimize the damage her mouth had gotten into.
“Thanks for the info. I’ll have to wait until the snow clears, then.” Jewell gave him a disarming smile, which she usually reserved for The Last Riders, not for dudes who looked as if they had just stepped out of a GQ ad. Coming further out of the door, she let the door snap closed behind her. “Sorry about how I acted in there.”
It went against her grain to play nice, but she had hidden her feelings from Reaper for too many years to let the cat out of the bag at this late of a date. While she couldn’t say she had developed a firm friendship with the wives of The Last Riders’ members, Jewell, as well as the other women, had learned from Bliss’s example that the brothers wouldn’t allow any threat to their wives’ happiness.
Bliss had lost her standing as a member when she had disrespected Willa. It was only when Drake, her husband, had become a member that she was allowed back into the club.
Jewell clearly should have learned her own lesson when she had given Jo the heads-up about Rider. Evidently, she hadn’t, or she wouldn’t be trying to do damage control, blowing off steam that had been building when she had seen Reaper and Ginny arrive at the clubhouse for the Christmas party.
Standing at the window, she had watched as Reaper reached into the SUV to take out his newborn son, who had come into their lives two months earlier than expected, yet he was a healthy child.
Before the baby had been born, Jewell had been afraid jealousy would eat at her. A child would be a painful reminder that Reaper would never be hers. However, no one could look at that baby and feel anything but pure happiness that he existed. Freddy was a sweet thing, with a head full of hair that stood on end, as if he had been frightened. All you wanted to do was hold him and smooth his silly hair down. His eyes were all Reaper, while the way he watched you sweetly was pure Ginny.
“It’s been one of those days.”
The dude’s dark hair shone under the sunlight while Jewell was attempting to worm herself out of the hole that she had dug for herself. Trying to recover from making a fatal mistake when dealing with men was going to be hard to do, but not insurmountable. By coming back out the door, she had revealed she cared about Reaper finding out.
Wanting to stomp her boot in the melting snow for her stupidity, she instead forced herself to act nonchalantly.
When he walked back to her, Jewell braced herself for the smirk that she was sure would appear.
“Hey, no worries. I’ve had a few of those days myself. We’re all good.”
Damn. Did he have to be so understanding when she had been a pure bitch? Shit… And why did he have to be so—fucking hot? Her deprived libido made itself known after taking another look at the man standing in front of her.
Jewell, in her younger, horny years, would have put him in the “gonna fuck” category, while the Jewell she was now would place him in the “thirst” category, because unless the dude had aspirations of becoming a Last Rider, any curiosity about what he would be like to fuck would go unquenched.
“Glad we understand each other.” Giving him a lingering look, Jewell used her chin to motion to the clubhouse above, which overlooked the factory. “Shade is waiting.” To make sure they were on the same plane, Jewell gave the dude a stare-down. “I’d appreciate you not saying anything about what you heard inside. I was just mouthing off. I didn’t mean half of what I said.”