Reaper's Legacy(27)

CHAPTER FOUR




RUGER

Fuck.

He couldn’t believe he’d said that. At least Noah hadn’t heard it.

Sophie, though … Jesus.

“I’m gonna start unloading the car,” Horse said. Coward.

“No, I don’t feel that way, Sophie. Believe me,” Ruger said, and he meant it. “You’re the only f*ckin’ thing he ever did that’s worth a damn. I’m crazy about Noah, you know that. And we don’t always get along, but you’re important to him and that makes you pretty f*ckin’ important to me.”

She offered him a quavering smile, and to his horror he saw the glint of tears in her eyes. Not good. Ruger could handle Sophie pissed off, but crying?

No. Fuck no.

“Let me show you your place,” he said quickly. “Downstairs. You got your own French doors down there, private entrance. It’s pretty. You can use the front door, too, if you like.”

“Thanks,” she murmured. Ruger walked across the kitchen to the basement door. He opened it, leaning in to turn on the light, holding it open for Sophie. He followed her down the steps, feeling like a dick. Then he felt like a bigger dick, because instead of thinking about ways to make things better, he checked out her rather fine ass.

Damn woman had been driving him crazy all day.

Her tits practically jumped out of that tank of hers, and the cutoffs had to be ten years old, the fabric was so worn and thin. They were tight, too, which matched his theory about their age. Sophie wasn’t fat, but she’d put on some weight since high school. In fact, she’d filled out far too nicely for his comfort. Having her in the house would be a living hell. Hell already. He couldn’t see her legs without imagining them wrapped around his waist. When she’d propped them up on the dash earlier, he’d almost crashed the goddamned car.

He thought about that morning, on the couch in her apartment. His cock grew bigger with the memory, and he hoped to hell she wouldn’t notice, because he’d been right about one thing. Sophie really could be a stuck-up bitch, and he didn’t doubt for a minute she’d use his attraction against him. She might want to f*ck him—and he knew she did, she’d been as into it as he had—but that didn’t mean she thought he was good enough for her.

Fuck, she was probably right about that one.

Screwing her would kick ass. But after that? Things would get weird. Ruger wasn’t interested in settling down with any woman, but if he ever did, she’d be different from Sophie. She’d fit in with the club, for one thing. She’d be the kind of girl who knew how to crack a beer at the end of a long day, kick back, and then give him a blow job before bed. She’d love riding on the back of his bike, she’d be blonde, and she’d be tough enough to hold her own in a fight.

Most important, she wouldn’t f*cking talk back to him. Sophie had a hell of a mouth.

“Wow, it’s beautiful,” Sophie said, stopping him dead at the bottom of the stairs. He looked at her to find all traces of wistful sorrow gone. Instead she smiled big at him, clearly thrilled with something or other. Damn, woman’s moods changed so f*cking fast, a man couldn’t even begin to keep up. “I can’t believe this. How did you get everything ready so quickly?”

He blinked, then looked around, shocked.

What the f*ck?

When he’d left that morning, the place had been clean-ish. Not because he’d cleaned it, of course, but because one of the girls from the clubhouse had a few weeks ago for some reason. Trying to hook him for her old man, probably. He’d f*cked her and kicked her out, because he’d be damned if he’d let one of those bitches get their claws into him.

It wasn’t sort of clean now, though. It f*cking sparkled.

This was supposed to be a family room, with a small kitchen built into the back for reasons he’d never bothered to consider. There was a short hallway to the side, with two bedrooms, a bathroom, and a utility room. He used one of the bedrooms for storage, the other as a place for his friends to crash. Never once had it looked or felt like a home.

Someone had come in and fixed all that.

Softy, fuzzy-looking blankets were draped across the couches, and a spiral rag rug full of bright colors covered the center of the beige carpet. There were fresh flowers on the coffee table, right in front of the wall of glass looking out over the valley. French doors opened onto the little patio under the ground-floor deck. Two loungers covered in big, soft pillows sat ready and waiting for use outside, framed on either side by cascading hanging baskets.