Page 3 of My Hotshot

She stepped closer. “You are Duane Clyde, right?”

“To the government, yeah. But I go by Dice now.”

Her eyes raked over me and lingered on the tattoo that curved around my neck. “I only knew it was you by your eyes. You’ve… changed.”

“Life will do that to you, baby,” I said, my voice low and rough.

She nodded. “I suppose you’re right. I’m not exactly the size four I was in high school.”

My gaze dropped over her body. Long, light brown hair hung past her shoulders in gentle waves, half tucked behind one ear. Her face was still that perfect mix of sweet and strong—just a little more defined now. More woman than girl. She wore a plain white T-shirt that clung in all the right places and light blue jean shorts with a frayed hem that showed off miles of legs. White sneakers on her feet. Tan skin. Curves that screamed grown woman in every damn sense of the word.

I wanted to touch her. I wanted to taste her. I wanted to hear what her moan sounded like after sixteen years apart.

I looked at her left hand.

No rings.

Thank fuck.

But that didn’t mean she wasn’t with someone. And suddenly that thought hit me square in the chest.

“You look fantastic from where I’m standing, Lainey,” I said honestly.

She blushed. Actually blushed. Pushed her hair behind her ear and ducked her head a little.

“Yeah, well, you might be biased. Having a baby kind of wrecked my body.”

My head jerked up. “You have a kid?”

She nodded. “I mean, it was fifteen years ago. I don’t really think I can use that as an excuse anymore.”

Fifteen years ago.

We graduated sixteen years ago.

I blinked. “Fifteen years ago?”

She must’ve seen the panic set in because she laughed and held her hands up. “Whoa, whoa. I can see you panicking. You are not the father,” she said, still laughing.

Relief punched through me, but it was quickly followed by something else. Something sharp and unexpected.

Disappointment.

I had no idea what the hell was wrong with me. But part of me didn’t hate the idea of that baby being mine. Well, now teenager.

I ran a hand through my hair. “Uh… well. Congrats.”

She snorted. “I deal with a fifteen-year-old girl every day, Duane. I need a bottle of wine more than I need congratulations.”

I didn’t say anything. My head was still spinning. Lainey was a mom. She had a daughter. She’d lived a whole damn life while I’d been off raising hell with the Iron Fiends.

“So, uh… you just passing through Mt. Pleasant or…” I trailed off.

We grew up in Oklahoma. Mt. Pleasant was six hours and a lifetime away.

She squinted at me. “Moving here. Lottie and I needed a fresh start, and Mt. Pleasant is going to be it. What about you?”

“Mt. Pleasant’s been my home for a while now. My club is based here.”

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