Page 29 of My Hotshot

“I dated. But none of them ever stuck around.”

And that was the truth. I sure as hell hadn’t been a monk since Lainey and I broke up, but not a single woman had made me think about sticking. Not one made me wonder what color to paint my walls. Not one made me want to sit and watch tow truck drivers pull eighteen-wheelers out of ditches just to be near her.

“That is… surprising,” she said slowly.

I shrugged and pointed the remote at the TV. “It is what it is, babe.”

The next episode started up. Snow-covered roads, a truck jackknifed in a ditch, a driver cussing and flailing his arms around like a wild man. I grabbed more from the tray—bread, a carrot, one of those perfect strawberries. The whole thing was better than I expected.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Lainey pull a blanket off the back of the couch and drape it across her lap.

“Want some?” she offered.

“I’m good, babe.”

She snuggled deeper into the blanket and, after a few minutes, inched closer to me. Not touching, but damn close. I could feel her warmth even through the space between us.

About twenty minutes into the episode, I noticed her wine glass tipping to the side. I glanced over.

She was out.

Head tilted slightly, hair falling across her cheek, and lips parted just the smallest bit as she breathed slow and steady. Her legs were still tucked under her, but she had leaned slightly toward me, like gravity couldn’t help itself. I took her wine glass out of her hand, and she didn’t budge.

I grabbed the tray and set it on the coffee table, careful not to jostle her.

This wasn’t how I thought the night would go. I’d expected her to either tell me to get lost or maybe toss some insults my way before booting me out.

Instead, she’d shared her wine, her space, and—hell—even her couch blanket.

I wasn’t going to complain.

Sitting next to a sleeping Lainey was a hell of a lot better than hanging around the clubhouse tonight. I loved my brothers. I loved the club. But being here, in this quiet little house, with a tray of food and Lainey breathing softly beside me?

It made me realize something.

Maybe there was more I’d been missing.

Chapter Ten

Dice

The word came out of my mouth before I even thought it. “No.”

Yarder nodded like he expected it. “Yeah, brother.”

“I’m not fucking doing it,” Throttle groaned, and threw his head back like a kid refusing to eat his vegetables.

Yarder’s eyes narrowed. That look alone could set fire to a grown man.

“You said we were done with the TV show,” I pointed out, crossed my arms, and leaned back in my chair. “Pretty sure we heard that.”

“Don called,” Yarder said, his tone clipped. “They need photos for promo. We’re the first season now. They’ve changed some shit up, and now they’re doing our club first. The Fallen Lords are getting bumped to the next season.”

“Fucking lucky,” Smoke grumbled. “They get to see how we got screwed and go in smarter.”

Yarder shrugged. “Probably. But it also means they’re not gonna come crawling back to us for another season.”

“Or,” Fade cut in, “the world’s gonna fall in love with the Iron Fiends, and the production company’s gonna decide to stick with us.”

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