Page 33 of Kneeling to Candy

Broken by the shock of Candy revealing her dream, I hurriedly chase after her. There’s no telling what kind of trouble Punk is in for with an angry Candy coming for him.

I’m not fast enough. Candy reaches the door before I do, swinging it open with an aggravated huff. Punk stands on the other side, fully tatted and looking every bit the part of a biker punk. His eyebrows rise when he sees Candy’s towel-covered body and miffed expression.

“I know it’s in your nature to be a pushy asshole. But you and the team can wait until we’re ready, or else.”

“Or else what?” Punk asks, bewildered.

“Or else Butch and I will leave the hotel naked, and you impatient dickheads will have to deal with the idiots on the highway following us.”

Punk snorts. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Wanna bet?” she asks, with a challenge in her voice.

Shocked, my biker brother looks at me, then Candy, and back to me. “Is she playing?”

I shake my head. “Don’t take the bet, Punk. She likes a good dare.”

Candy snaps her fingers in Punk’s face, demanding his attention. His eyes snap back to her, wide and alert.

“We’ll be down in the lobby in fifteen. Now piss off.” Candy slams the door in Punk’s astounded face and returns to the bathroom, muttering to herself like she does when she’s upset.

I follow her to the bathroom, hesitant to return to our conversation. “Candy?—”

“No time to talk, biker boy. We have to finish getting ready before someone else from the team comes to give us grief. And as glorious as the two of us naked together is, I don’t want us riding in our birthday suits.”

She’s right. The clock is ticking. This is not the time to drop the marriage bomb. It’ll need to wait until our return to Fort Collins.

With a resigned sigh, I finish getting ready, all the while my stomach churning with anxiety. We can’t get home fast enough.

CHAPTER TEN

CANDY

There’s nothing more demoralizing than learning the guy you want is petrified at the mere mention of being married to you.

I don’t know what the hell compelled me to reveal my wedding dream to Butch. I guess I got too comfortable being myself around him. It’s easy being unfiltered with Butch when he hasn’t judged me like others have.

Although, I should’ve realized the holy matrimony subject would set him off. Most dudes are going to freeze when you talk about marriage this early in the game. For Christ’s sake, we only hooked up last night. Had the situations been reversed and it was someone other than Butch bringing up marriage to me, I would tweak out, too.

We’ve been friends. Good friends. Best friends, even.

Still, whatever is happening between us shouldn’t be rushed down the church aisle.

I’m trying not to take Butch’s speechless response to my silly wedding dream personally. Though I’d be lying if I said his fear-caked face didn’t hurt my feelings.

The awkward silence between us as we hurried to get ready was super uncomfortable. I’m used to doing most of the talking with Butch. But I was at a loss for words.

To make matters worse, Butch seemed to sense I was in my feels. He may not have known what I was upset about, but he knows when I’m struggling. He hovered near me, insisting on carrying our bags while holding my hand in the lobby. For someone who seemed petrified by the idea of marriage, he certainly liked to stick to me like glue when he sensed me pulling away.

It’s confusing. One second, I think he’s on the same page as me. The next, he’s turning down sex, asking odd questions about the night we shared, and being all-around weird.

His reaction makes me think I’m good enough to sleep with, but not good enough to have a future with.

Typical man.

Needing distance to sort through my feelings, I let go of Butch’s hand and beeline for the company SUV when our team reaches the parking garage. I barely have the door open before a hand hits the window, shutting the door closed.

Annoyed, I turn to glare at Butch, refusing my entrance. “Mind moving your hand, biker boy?”

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