Except I’m a Hobbs, through and through. We’re not lucky people. Admittedly, I’m better off than my mother and aunt were, and they are happier than their parents. The Hobbs women are slowly crawling our way up the evolutionary chain. Once we were mud people unable to hold down jobs or express love for the mutts we shit into the world. Now, we’re more like dumpster babies with the good looks to fuck our way into a stable home. If I have a kid, I wonder if he’ll go to college. How far can a Hobbs truly get in life?
Despite starting over fresh in Elko, I’m still a loser. That’s why I chickened out when I arrived here. And why I took the bunny job. After all, fucking men in my father’s club would be a great way to make a positive impression. When I finally admitted why I’m in Elko, my courage didn’t come from righteousness. No, I was pissed and embarrassed.
I made all the wrong decisions. Just like how I could have run away from Minton back when no one would have cared, but I waited until I’d get hunted down. I can’t do anything right. It’s just how I’m wired.
And that’s why I assume I’ll ruin things with Conor before they even get started. I told him the truth about my dumb plan to “baby mama” my way into a better life. Conor must think I’m a loser.
Not that I can read him well. I don’t think anyone does, really. Conor Jessup is usually a blank slate. Even when he smiles, I feel as if he’s holding back or working a con. He doesn’t let people close. I admire his ability to protect himself. If we had a kid together, I bet our boy would go to college and might even get a respectable job with one of those 401k things. That’s what I want for my spawn—a boring life devoid of danger or self-inflicted suffering.
“You don’t have to walk me inside,” I tell Conor despite knowing he’ll do what he wants.
“I ought to make sure you’re safe,” he says and takes my hand. “I’m a nice guy with good intentions.”
I hear the sarcasm in his words, but I don’t get their meaning. Conor is a nice guy. If he hadn’t decided he wanted to slip his dick in me first, I’d have been passed around by now.
Not that I was wholly against that part. Sex is fun, and even the older guys have qualities I can admire. But what happened if Lowell ever made a pass at me? No doubt, I’d puke in his face while crying out how he’s my daddy and needs to save me. Basically, without Conor calling dibs, I would have turned a train wreck into an apocalypse-level clusterfuck.
After typing in the security code, we enter the black-and-gray contemporary-style lobby. I tighten my grip on Conor’s hand. My heart demands to focus on something positive. Instead, my mind replays how grossed out Lowell looked by the very thought that he helped create the trash heap in front of him.
“I don’t know what I’m doing,” I admit to Conor in the elevator as we head to the second floor. “I came to Elko to meet Lowell, and I messed that up. Staying feels like a mistake.”
“You’re safe here.”
“No, not really,” I admit. “I have ties to this place. Sooner or later, the people looking for me will show up here. I’d be safer somewhere else. I should leave before trouble arrives in Elko.”
Conor leans his head back and sighs. “All sound logic, but I can’t leave with you yet.”
“Why would you ever leave?”
Leveling his green eyes at me, Conor says without a hint of sarcasm, “I’m a complicated man juggling many plans and just as many lies. I haven’t gotten around to dropping any of them yet. When I do, we can bail on Elko. Just not yet.”
“But you don’t even know me.”
“And you don’t know me. But if you had to choose any man to run off with, you’d pick me.”
“Yeah, because you’re one of the only single men in the club and the hottest. It’s really not rocket science.”
Conor shakes his head. “You had a rough night, and you’re scared of your past showing up. That’s why you can’t see what I do. Which is okay. I’ll keep an eye on our future while you get your heart mended.”
I don’t respond because the doors open, and I spot Amity hurrying toward me. The brunette had the night off, meaning she’s running around the building in sleep shorts and an oversized man’s shirt. No doubt, she was apartment hopping before Conor’s motorcycle alerted the bunnies to my arrival. Oh, they’ll definitely want the dish.
Rather than walk to the elevator, Amity lingers near our door, waiting for me to finish up. I suspect she realizes Conor isn’t staying. Or maybe she plans to hang out at a different apartment if ours is a-rocking.
“Conor, thank you for driving me home and all the other more important stuff,” I say, enjoying the feel of his hand around mine. “I don’t know when the blood test will happen tomorrow. If you’re not busy, maybe we could go out for a sandwich. I’ll pay, of course.”
I know I sound stupid. Then, as if to prove that point, Conor leans his head back and sighs deeply.
“Finally,” he mutters as his foot holds open the elevator doors. “You finally get why I haven’t asked you out.” Conor holds my gaze and smiles softly. “I’m just really cheap. But now that you’re paying, I’m all in.”
Grinning, despite his ribbing, I feel heat slide across my cheeks. “I was trying to be gracious.”
“I know, but you’re not trash, Monroe,” he says in the same easy way he teased me earlier, making him impossible to read. “You need to demand more from Lowell and me. Everyone, really.”
“Fine, then, you can pay for our sandwiches.”
Conor’s grin widens. “Have the girls taken you to Harvie’s Sub Shop?” he asks, and I shake my head. “Lots of decadent choices. Loaded with meat. Great stuff if you’re looking to ruin your cholesterol.”
“Sounds like an average meal from where I grew up.”
Conor’s gaze flashes to Amity pretending to be casual down the hallway. He finally releases my hand.
“I’ll text you in the morning with the details on the test and our meal out.”
Nodding, I back out of the elevator. He removes his foot, allowing the doors to shut on the sexiest man alive. I turn immediately and rush to Amity.
“I knew it,” she whispers loudly while bouncing around as if she saved up all her crazy for this exact moment. “I mean, no offense to Lowell, but there was no way you hot for him over Conor. That’s just not remotely possible in any universe.”
I run my RFID key fob in front of the reader, and our door unlocks. Soon, we’re inside the glamorous two-bedroom apartment. I hang my purse on the black coat stand in the corner while Amity keeps smiling at me.
“I see it,” she says after we sit on the pale beige couch. “Your eyes.”
“They’re brown. So are Bronco’s and Akron’s. I bet a lot of guys have brown eyes.”
“No, but Lowell’s brown eyes have gold flecks in them. Bronco’s don’t. Neither do Akron’s. Trust me. I’ve gotten up close and personal with them. Well, some more than others.”
“Even Conor?”
“Of course,” she says, holding my hand and checking my recently painted nails. “Should I apologize?”