“You were too damn young. Martin shouldn’t have ever let you leave!”
“What? When?” she asks.
“You know when,” I grumble.
“The night you took my virginity and then said you didn’t give a shit about me?”
My hand drops from the back of her neck like she burned me as the V-word bounces around in my thick skull. “You weren’t… You didn’t…”
“Yes, I was,” Zoe reiterates when she turns around, hitting me in the gut with the corner of her big purse. Her face is bright red and angry, clearly from me spanking her and calling her a liar. “I may not have bled, but you were the first person I was ever with.”
“Why the fuck didn’t you tell me?” I yell at her.
“Because you wouldn’t have done it if I had!”
That’s fucking true. The only reason I let things go that far that night was because I was certain Zoe had been with other guys at school. The way she flirted with me and other men, I thought for sure she had experience. That night, she said she had done it before.
“You’re right. I wouldn’t have. Which is why you should’ve told me!”
“It was a mistake to sleep with you,” she says, making me wince because I never wanted to be a mistake, a regret. Lifting her chin, she adds, “One I won’t ever make again.”
The confidence in that assertion stings more than my hand after slapping her ass, which is ridiculous because I don’t want to sleep with Zoe again.
No, that’s not entirely true. I do want her, and hell, I probably always will, but I don’t want to want her. So, it’s the same thing, basically.
“Did you just want to hit me or was there some other reason you told the surfer guy you wanted to see me?” Zoe asks.
“How long are you here for?”
“I don’t know yet,” she replies.
“Why are you here?”
“For work, and it coincided with my dad and Deb’s anniversary…”
“Shit, they left this morning for Cabo,” I mutter.
“Yes, I know,” she says with a sigh. “I got to see them before they left.”
“Why didn’t they cancel?” I ask in surprise.
“Because I told them not to. I should’ve called and given them a heads-up I was coming, but I wanted to surprise them.”
Of course she told them to go on their trip. She loves them and wants them to be happy. I know the sentiment of sending someone away, even when it sucks for you…
“So, where are you staying while you’re here?” I ask.
“At their house. They told me I could stay however long I wanted.”
“By yourself or, ah, did someone come with you?” I inquire, wanting to know if she’s seeing one of the pretty boys she posts photos with on Instagram.
“Just me,” she answers, which allows my lungs to finally expand all the way for the first time since I laid eyes on her.
“No. You’re not staying alone.”
“Why not? I’m a grown woman and I can take care of myself.” Opening the top of her purse for me to peek inside, I see the overhead lights reflect off something metal.
“What the fuck are you doing with a gun?” I ask as my heart accelerates into high gear.
“It’s for protection and I have a permit. New York is a dangerous city.”
“No shit,” I grumble. “But this city hasn’t been safe lately either. There was a string of kidnappings a few months ago. We still haven’t found the fuckers responsible.”
“Why would you be looking for them? Are you a cop in your free time when you’re not fixing bikes and hanging out with the rest of your thug buddies?”
“No, I’m not a cop,” I tell her. “And what the hell kind of thug buddies are you talking about?”
Reaching up, she runs her manicured fingers over the patch on the front of my cut. “The Savage Kings?”
“We’re not a gang. We’re a motorcycle club.”
“Same fucking thing,” Zoe mutters with a roll of her stunning emerald eyes.
“No, it’s not.”
“Whatever,” she says. “I’m leaving before you start slapping me again.”
“You better put some fucking clothes on before you walk out that door!” I exclaim.
While I desperately want to keep her here until she answers all my questions, I let her walk away from me and out of the garage, but this conversation is not even close to being over.
Chapter Seven
Zoe
* * *
Seeing Winston again for the first time after all these years didn’t go as I expected.
I figured things would be back to the good old days where he pretended like he didn’t have time to glance in my direction. Instead, he grabbed me and spanked me.
And it took a ton of willpower for me to not tell him to fuck me afterwards.
Nope. Not going to happen, no matter how hot he is with his black beard grown in and swollen muscles he didn’t have at twenty-one. I don’t know the man he’s become, nor do I want to get to know him. Winston was an asshole at twenty-one and now that he’s part of a motorcycle gang, I’m guessing he’s the furthest thing you can get from a nice guy.
But I have a feeling he’s not going to make it easy to keep distance between us, especially after I hear the rumbling of a motorcycle coming down the road when I climb out of my dad’s BMW back at the house.
I’m halfway up the wooden stairs, ready to get out of my bathing suit and cover-up dress, and into some comfy clothes, when the engine cuts off and I hear his deep, rumbly voice shout, “We weren’t finished talking!”
“I was!”
“Well, I wasn’t!” he responds and then his heavy boots are stomping up the steps behind me before I even get the keys into the lock. I could try to slam the door in his face and then lock it again, but it would be pointless since he probably has a set of keys too.
“What took you so fucking long to come home?” Winston asks me when we both step inside the house.
“I’ve been busy,” I say. Dropping my purse on the coffee table, I step underneath one of the vents in the living room to try and cool off. The air conditioning is a relief after being outside in the heat, not to mention my body warming up, thanks to a certain hand smacking my ass.
“Yeah, I’m aware of how ‘busy’ you’ve been,” Winston mutters. “But you still should’ve made time to visit your dad.”
“He and Deb came to visit me in New York,” I remark, holding my hair up off my neck.
“Twice in ten years. That’s not enough,” Winston argues before he collapses onto the sofa. “In case you haven’t noticed, he’s not getting any younger.”
“Seemed like he was in pretty good health today.”
“He is, but you never know what can happen in a few months or years.”
“How about you worry about your mother and I’ll worry about my father?”
“Whatever,” he huffs. “I’m staying here with you this week.”