“So you must’ve had Izzy when you were fifteen or something,” he said, leaning forward so I could hear him over the music. “Because you look way too young to be a mother.”

“I was twenty-one,” I said, feeling myself flush. “I’ll admit, it wasn’t planned, but I guess it’s worked out pretty well. I can’t imagine life without her. Do you have kids?”

He shook his head.

“Hell no. I was married right out of high school, though,” he said. “We were way too young—finally split up last year, although I’m still friends with her. Does that seem weird to you?”

“I can’t imagine being friends with my ex,” I admitted. “We fight all the time—doubt we could agree on the color of the sky. But I have to admit, he’s a fantastic dad to Izzy, and he helps me out a lot, too.”

“You still have a thing for him?” Aaron asked.

Yes.

“No,” I said firmly. “Absolutely not. I just try to stay out of his way. He’s . . . intense. But like I said, he’s a good dad to Izzy. He’s an artist.”

Aaron got a funny look on his face. “That’s weird.”

“No it’s not,” I said, strangely offended. “He’s amazing, a natural talent—he sells his paintings all over the country, and people hire him to do commissions, too.”

He held up his hands in mock surrender.

“I wasn’t trying to piss you off.”

Shit. What was wrong with me?

“Sorry, I guess it just struck me the wrong way.”

“No worries,” he said, although the look in his eyes was speculative. “You sure you’re not hung up on him?”

“It’s complicated,” I admitted awkwardly.

“Well . . . okay then. I guess I’ll get the bill,” he said. “We should probably get going anyway. I’m meeting someone at the party around ten thirty—he’s got something I need to pick up.”

“I want to use the restroom before we go,” I said, wishing I’d kept my mouth shut about Painter. The man wasn’t even here, yet somehow I couldn’t look at Aaron without comparing the two.

“Sounds good. Why don’t you do that while I pay,” Aaron said, reaching over to catch my hand. “Hey, are we okay?”

“Of course,” I said, giving him a smile that wasn’t quite real. “I’ll meet you out in the parking lot—how does that sound?”

“Perfect.”

He gave me a smile that I think was supposed to be seductive. My return one was significantly less so. Crap, how awkward was that? Here I was, out for the night with a perfectly decent man. Why didn’t I feel more for him?

Pisser.

Jessica and Sherri were going to be so disappointed by this one, I realized, because there was no way I’d be going home with Aaron Waits tonight. Hopefully things wouldn’t get too weird back at work.

He really was a nice guy.

Of course, the dentist had been nice, too. Ugh.

• • •

Callup was a picturesque little town.

Small. Like, seriously small, with an old-fashioned main street lined with all sorts of pretty stone buildings. It looked like something out of a very old newsreel, you know, the kind where you can see a few cars, but mostly horses and there’s no sound?

We passed through it slowly and then continued out along an old road for a couple miles before I saw a concrete-block building that’d seen better days. Parked in front of it was a long line of motorcycles along with several guys wearing leather vests. Then I saw a mural on the outside wall, one that looked suspiciously like Painter’s work. There was an image of a skull wearing a miner’s hat and the words “Silver Bastards MC.”

No.

Oh fuck no. This was bad—bad, badder, baddest.

We had to get out of here, because this was Puck’s club, and he was Painter’s best friend.

Oblivious, Aaron pulled to a stop at the far end of the gravel parking lot, well away from the line of what had to be club bikes. A guy wearing a prospect’s cut started toward us and I realized that I had about thirty seconds before my world imploded around me.

“We have to leave,” I told Aaron, without climbing off the bike. He turned to look at me, frowning.

“We just got here,” he said, confused.

“No, you don’t understand,” I said, feeling almost panicky. “This is an MC clubhouse. I can’t go in there.”

Aaron gave me a sweet, if borderline condescending, smile. “Don’t worry—I have friends here. You don’t need to be afraid. I’ll protect you.”

“My ex is a member of the Reapers MC,” I told him. “If he finds out I’m here, there’ll be trouble.”

He frowned. “You didn’t mention that before.”

“It didn’t seem relevant then. Now it does. Let’s go.”

“No,” he said, his voice hardening. “I have to meet my friend and pick something up.”

“Then take me back into town and drop me off. I’ll wait for you.”

“Hey,” the prospect said, coming up to us. He looked between us, and Aaron bristled. “We have a problem here?”

“No problem,” Aaron said quickly. “I’m friends with Gunnar. My date’s just a little shy about the clubhouse. Guess she’s not used to being around bikers.”

God, what a prick. I opened my mouth to call him on his shit, then snapped it shut again. Clearly Aaron wasn’t going to take me back to town, which meant I had to play this through. It might even work—I didn’t really know the Silver Bastards, with the exception of Puck. If I got really lucky, he wouldn’t even be here tonight.