Page 73 of Fang
“How about after your shift later we go for a ride? How does that sound?”
“What if we don’t wait and go right now?”
“Okay, let’s go,” he says without any hesitation.
“Are you sure?” I look at his desk. “You were working.”
“I’m sure if you are. Come on. Let’s go play hooky.”
I know I should try to talk her out of leaving. Remind her that it’s not a good look to skip a shift, but I don’t care. If she wants to leave, that’s what we will do. I hate her dancing almost as much as she does, but for a different reason. I hate it because I know it doesn’t make her happy.
If it did, that would be a different story. Ditching work works to my benefit, though. It’s one step closer to convincing her to quit. Even if that means the club loses money. At the end of the day, I can find someone to replace her, as fucked up as that sounds.
“You ready?” Cami asks as she comes back into my office. She replaced her sports bra and shorts with a T-shirt, jeans, and sneakers.
“I am.” As I stand, I shut off my monitor, and I grab my jacket off the back of my chair. When I reach her, I hand her the jacket. “Put this on.”
“Are you sure?” she asks as she takes it.
“Yeah.”
My dick twitches as I watch her slide my jacket on. It looks so fucking good on her. I take her hand in mind. She waits for me to lock the office, and then we’re on the move.
“You two taking off?” Happy asks.
“Yeah, we won’t be back. Call if you need us.”
He smiles. “I won’t.”
In the parking lot, I help her put on her helmet. The entire time she stares up at me with those big amber eyes with nothing but trust. I can’t even begin to explain how it makes me feel. Once we are both ready, we take off. We ride aimlessly for hours.
It’s been a while since I’ve just ridden without a place in mind, and I didn’t realize how bad I needed it. Needed the escape. Only when my stomach rumbles do I pull over at a restaurant that looks like it’s one step above a diner.
“Holy shit, my legs are shaking.” Cami laughs as she gets off my bike.
“You’ll get used to it the more you ride,” I tell her.
I don’t let go of her until she can stand on her own. Then I get off my bike and we head inside.
“Hey, you two. You can take a seat over there,” an older waitress says.
“Thank you,” Cami tells her.
I walk her over to the booth and slide in across from her.
“Why do you do that?” she asks.
“Do what?”
“Always take the seat that faces the door.”
“Ah, you noticed that?”
The waitress brings us water and takes our drink and food orders.
“I did. Now tell me,” she says as she opens her straw.
“It’s a guy thing. I need to be able to see who comes through the door. If I can’t, I won’t know until it’s too late if someone enters who means to harm you.”
