Page 29 of Pumpkin
“Clearly you didn’t know him six years ago,” Dosia said with a bit of vehemence in her tone.
Pumpkin’s mind whirled. Had something else happened that night? Something he didn’t know about or didn’t remember? It was bad enough that they’d slept together and he hadn’t remembered her name. But… The anger in her voice hinted at something darker, something unseemly.
He hadn’t… Pumpkin paled. He hadn’tforcedhimself on her.
No.God, no.
First, Pumpkin would never believe any amount of alcohol would turn him into a rapist. Even drunk, he would have the wherewithal to stop if he sensed his partner wasn’t into something. He believed that down to the marrow of his bones.
Second, there’d been two used condoms next to him when he’d woken up. Meaning they’d had sex at least twice, and that implied consent.
And third, his mother would rise from her grave and castrate him herself if heeverdisrespected a woman so heinously.
Pumpkin stopped Frankie’s rebuttal. While he appreciated her defense, he didn’t need it. Turning back to Dosia, he asked, “What do you remember from that night?”
Dosia’s eyes flitted around. “I am not having that discussion here.”
“Fine,” Pumpkin shrugged. “What are you doing tomorrow night?”
Her cheeks flamed. “I am not?—”
“You are,” he interrupted her protest. “Because this conversation is six years overdue and the only way we can move on.” He pushed thebreadbasket at her. “Eat. You’re not the only one here who is getting hangry.”
“I amnotgetting hangry,” Dosia argued. But she took a breadstick anyway.
Pumpkin picked the basket up to offer one to Frankie before dropping it back into the center of the table and grabbing one for himself. He worked one-handed to peel the crust off the bread to get to the soft center. Seeing what he was doing, Dosia rolled her eyes and reached over to help him so SJ didn’t have to give up his father’s right hand as his new favorite toy.
He smiled at her. Fuck, she’d make a great mom.
“Thank you,” Pumpkin said when she was done. He added some small pieces of bread to SJ’s tray. His son immediately started gobbling them up. The amount of drool that came from his mouth could fill a pond, and he still refused to let go of Pumpkin’s hand.
Dosia picked up her own breadstick and seemed reluctant to say, “You’re welcome.” It sort of came out like a grumble, as if she couldn’t believe she’d helped him like that.
Pumpkin grabbed some of the crust and popped it into his mouth. “I’m not a womanizer, you know. I have a great respect for women.”
Dosia’s cheeks flamed. “I told you, we’re not discussing this here.”
“Then we’ll discuss it tomorrow.”
“I am not meeting with you again.”
She was. She just didn’t know it yet. “Why not?”
Dosia stared at him for a while, chewing on her bread far longer than necessary before swallowing. She leaned forward, accentuating her cleavage in that low-cut black number, and making Pumpkin’s mouth salivate for something completely different than steak. “Tell me this. Why was your road name ‘Vodka’ when we met if you’re not some drunkard?”
Pumpkin could understand the misconception. Given that hewasdrunk when they’d met and having a road name like that… Yeah, he couldn’t fault her that conclusion. “Because I’m half Ukrainian.” He indicated his features, which he’d unfortunately inherited from his father. In his youth, he’d hated looking in mirrors because he knew he looked just like the man. Especially when puberty hit. “And while vodka is my drink of preference, I amnota drunk. I was drunk that night because I was celebrating.”
Dosia watched him carefully. Pumpkin added more bread to SJ’s tray without looking away from her. “What were you celebrating?” she asked.
“It was my patch-in party,” he answered honestly, pleased she was willing to talk about this now. The sooner they got this confrontation over with, the sooner they could move on. And he had alotof plans for their future.
“That means you became part of the club, right? I’ve seenSons of Anarchy.”
Pumpkin nodded. “It was the night I was celebrating becoming a patched member, yes.”
She nodded slowly, her eyes casting downward to her half-eaten breadstick.
Pumpkin tipped his head to the right. “Why were you there?” He didn’t know how old she was, but he knew how old shewasn’t. No one under twenty-one was allowed on property during one of the club parties. They were very particular about that, though it had been easier to enforce after they’d built the gate around the property.
