Page 34 of Kneeling to Candy

He scowls at me. “Why are you getting into the SUV?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“Because we ride together,” he says matter-of-factly, glowering at me like I’m denying him something he has rights to.

Wow. He wants all the benefits of having a woman without the title.

Jerk.

I flash him my fakest smile, knowing it’ll piss him off. He hates when I treat him like everyone else.

Relatable. I hate being treated the same by every guy, too.

“Sorry,” I say in an insincere tone, fluttering my eyes. “Guess I’m hungover, too. Can’t be riding on the back of a bike when I’m tired, can I?”

Not waiting for his response, I force the vehicle door back open. He releases an oof when it hits him in the chest, forcing him to step back and let me enter. I have a slight twinge of regret for causing him some minor discomfort, though not enough to apologize when I’m beyond disappointed with him.

Seated in the vehicle, I try to shut my door, only to be stopped by Butch crowding my space. I lean back in my seat as he reaches across my body to fasten my seatbelt. He looks at me with those gorgeous hazel eyes of his, warming my insides.

I scowl internally, annoyed he’s affecting me this strongly when I’m pissed with him. Any other guy, and I’d dry up like a desert. Apparently, my pussy hasn’t gotten the message we’re mad at Butch.

He closes his eyes and presses his forehead to mine.

“Get some rest, Goddess,” he whispers. He pulls away, closes my door, and strides to his bike without a backward glance.

It hurts more than I’d like to admit he didn’t bother looking over his shoulder at me at least once. So what if he seems dejected I turned down riding back on his hog? He hurt me first when he looked nauseous when I mentioned my marriage dream. Screw him.

Ziggy opens the front passenger door. He cocks his head, seeing me sitting in the back seat. “Why are you sitting in here?”

“Didn’t realize I needed your permission to ride in the company SUV,” I snap back, my anger toward Butch coming out to attack Ziggy instead.

“Easy, Candy. I was only asking a question. I assumed you’d ride with your man.”

“My man?” I huff, crossing my arms over my chest. “I don’t have a man.”

“Great.” Ziggy groans as he climbs in. “What did my brother do to piss off Her Royal Highness?”

“None of your beeswax.”

“Fine. I’ll ask him when we get back home.”

Good luck. The fool doesn’t have a clue what he’s done to upset me. “Whatever.”

Punk climbs into the driver’s seat. He spots me in his rearview mirror, then whispers to Ziggy, “Do I want to know?”

“Even if you wanted, she’s not giving up answers,” Ziggy replies.

“Awww.” Punk gives me a cheeky grin in the rearview mirror as he starts the engine and rolls down our windows. “Your first couple’s quarrel. How cute.”

Irritated with the guys, I turn my attention out the window to watch the rest of our team getting ready to leave. Simone seems to be giving Chase a hard time as he takes her by her elbow, directing her toward the SUV. The closer they come to the vehicle, the more their conversation can be heard.

Simone tries to yank her arm out of Chase’s grip, failing miserably. Chase is one strong dude, like a new-age Thor, with his tawny-colored hair pulled back into a ponytail.

“Dammit, Chase. I told you, I’m riding back home with you. I’m even wearing the stupid jeans you bought me, and you know how much I hate jeans,” she clips in a pissy tone.

“Sorry, Numbers,” Chase says unapologetically, using her accounting nickname. “I won’t risk my babymama getting hurt riding with me.”

The “baby” word has me cringing. Pregnancy is like an epidemic in the club these days, with every claimed woman getting knocked up at alarming rates.

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