Page 4 of Craving Francesca

“Shit,” I muttered, stomping back toward the clubhouse. If she’d gone back inside to continue the party, I was going to be pissed. I just wanted to lie down and overthink some shit for a while. That wasn’t too much to ask.

I’d just had the best sex of my life—earth-shaking, life-shattering sex—with a guy whose interest in me had vanished before I’d even gotten dressed again. I needed to unpack that. I also needed to figure out why the hell it bothered me so much and what exactly had made it the best sex of my life, when in reality it shouldn’t have been anything special. Missionary sex wasn’t life-altering. It was the most mundane of all the positions.

The back door was locked, and I cursed as I hurried around to the front door of the clubhouse. I should’ve grabbed a damn sweatshirt. Goose bumps peppered my skin as I rounded the building and jogged toward the door.

Inside was quiet. The music had been shut off, and there was no one behind the bar as I paused in the middle of the room. Someone had passed out on the couch—no, make that two someones. I couldn’t tell who it was, but the hair was the wrong color. It wasn’t Myla. A couple of men I didn’t know were bullshitting in the corner. Everyone else was gone.

“Fuck,” I breathed, looking around. She wasn’t there. Where the fuck was she?

Dragging my feet, I headed back toward the hallway I’d left half an hour earlier. I really hoped that Gray was already asleep. I didn’t want to run into him again until I’d sorted out my head. I counted the doors as I quietly made my way down the long hallway in the opposite direction of his room and stopped in front of a door that looked the same as all the others.

I checked my phone one more time to see if she’d gotten back to me yet, but I had no new texts.

Within seconds of knocking, the door to the room flew open.

“Frank?” Myla’s dad, Tommy, asked blearily. His eyes sharpened almost instantly as I tried to ignore his bare chest.

Seeing Tommy in his underwear was one of the very last things I ever wanted to see, but I couldn’t deny that he was still pretty built.Ew. Focus.

“I got back to our tent, and Myla isn’t there,” I said, all in one breath. “I mean, she’s probably around here somewhere, but she’s not answering her phone or anything, and she said she was going to our tent, so—”

“Myla’s missing?” her mom, Heather, said from somewhere behind the door.

“She’s around here somewhere,” Tommy replied gruffly. “Give me a minute to put my damn pants on.”

He left the door open slightly as he disappeared, but I didn’t follow him inside. I didn’t want to see anything in that room until both Myla’s parents were fully dressed. Grimacing, I moved sideways and leaned against the wall.

“Here,” Tommy said, tossing me a hoodie. “Too fuckin’ cold to be prancin’ around like that.”

“I thought I was going to bed,” I replied defensively, pulling the sweatshirt over my head.

“Myla said she was goin’ back to the tent?” he asked, moving down the hallway.

“That’s what she said.” I assumed he wanted me to follow.

“When was that?”

“Hours ago.”

“Shit.” Pausing at a door, he knocked lightly.

“What is it?” Myla’s brother Mick asked.

Now, here was a man I didn’t mind seeing in his underwear. Myla’s oldest brother wasbuilt,and while I normally went for guys who were a bit more streamlined, there wasn’t a single thing that I would’ve changed on that muscular body. Too bad he was married and had been forever.

“What’s up?” Mick asked.

“Your sister’s missin’.”

“What do you mean, missing?”

“She’s not where she’s supposed to be,” Tommy said flatly. “Get dressed.”

A few minutes later, Mick met us in the main part of the clubhouse.

“You know where the boys’ tents are?”

“Helped set ’em up,” Mick replied.

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