Hooked (Viking Bastards MC #1)(45)

Doesn’t change the truth, though. They both found old ladies they’d do anything for, and if that’s not *-whipped I don’t know what is.

If it means I get to keep Grace in my life, then count me in. It doesn’t have anything to do with my club or my brothers. It’s between me and my girl, except first I need to get her back.

You really are the biggest jerk I’ve ever met. The last thing she said has haunted me since the moment she walked out. I’ve been called a lot worse, but none of it tore me up inside the way those few words did.

She always made me feel like I was something special. Yeah, I’m a bastard, and not just by virtue of my club. Nothing’s going to change that. But she saw there was more to me than my colors, and didn’t know anything about my rep. She saw me, and like a f*cking dick I let my pride drive her away.

I’ve never regretted anything I’ve said to a girl before. And I’ve never chased a chick with the hope of a second chance. But ever since Grace left the other afternoon, the words I threw at her have eaten me alive.

I don’t compromise. Except I’m here, taking up her offer to meet her whole damn family, and I won’t react to any of their comments.

I sure as hell don’t do relationships. Because I don’t know how, and the mess I’m in right now is proof of that.

Yet here I am.

The gates open and she’s standing there in a long-sleeved, short green dress that shows off her perfect curves and gorgeous legs. Her hair tumbles down her back, and she’s so untouchable and out of my league it’s insane.

Before leaving the club I had a skin scalding shower and used half a bottle of mouthwash but I still feel like shit when I look at her. For a few seconds, I can’t move. I’ve faced down rival club members, broken more bones than I can count in defense of my brothers, and locked horns with the law on more than a few occasions. But I’ve never had this sick churning in my gut before, and I sure as hell have never suffered from sweaty palms in the past.

I can think up a hundred reasons for the way I’m feeling, but the truth is worse than any of them.

I’m afraid she won’t give me a second chance.

She doesn’t come toward me or invite me onto the property, so I brace myself and swagger toward her. If she didn’t want to see me again she wouldn’t have come out here. I’m halfway to victory already.

“Hey.” I offer her a thong-melting smile, but I don’t grab her and kiss her the way I want to, because instead of welcoming me with open arms, she’s as warm as an ice sculpture.

“Why are you here?”

Because I can’t stay away. I’ll die before saying anything like that. “You invited me, remember?”

“And you declined.”

“Guy can’t change his mind?” I never change my mind. She doesn’t need to know that.

She folds her arms and glances over her shoulder. Only then do I see a security guard lurking halfway down the driveway to the mansion. I give the guy the evil eye and then ignore him. He’s not important.

“I got the impression you never wanted to see me again.”

She’s so coolly polite I don’t know how to handle it. Then again, I already know from the other day that she doesn’t scream abuse or throw things when she gets mad.

No, all she has to do is say a few words and it’s enough to crack open my world.

“You got the wrong impression.” I hope those security cameras aren’t recording this. If it ever got into the hands of my brothers—

“No, I didn’t, Zach. You were very clear.”

I forget about the cameras. Is she really going to make me beg, for Chrissakes? “Grace, I’m here. Doesn’t that tell you anything?”

She bites her lip, and for a second she looks so vulnerable I think I’ve won. I reach for her, and she goes rigid.

“No, it doesn’t. Why don’t you try spelling it out for me? That’d help.”

I exhale a long breath. On the ride over I had plenty of time to think about how this confrontation would go. It ranged from her setting the guard dogs on me, to her falling into my arms, but at no point did the possibility of me having to explain my actions raise its ugly head.

The only ones I explain myself to are my president and my brothers. If Grace wants me, then she has to forget about everything I said in the kitchen. She must know I didn’t mean it.

Except she isn’t the one who chased after me. I can tell myself anything, but the truth is I don’t know what she wants. And until I tell her the real reason why I’m here, she’s not going to give me an inch.

It’d be so much easier to turn around and get back on my bike. I’ll never have to see her again. Never have to risk telling her things I don’t even understand myself. I’ll never be short of girls wanting to screw me, but not one of them will bake me cupcakes, or spend hours crafting tiny Viking decorations.

None of them will ever be Grace. And she’s the only one I want.

“I’m sorry.” Fuck, that hurts. I glare at her, and she’s frowning, as though she has no idea what I’m talking about.

“What did you say?”

Screw that. She knows exactly what I’m talking about. I take a deep breath. I’ve said it once and it didn’t kill me. The second time’s sure to be easier.