Page 62 of Dangerous Attraction

I turn to him with a frown. "Honey knows Mabel?"

His brows rise, burrowing beneath the dark wispy curls falling over his forehead.

"Yeah, they're sisters."

"I didn't know that," I mutter.

"Well, now you do," he says with a shrug, then pulls the key from the ignition and opens the door.

I follow suit, even as my stomach sinks at the information he's dumped on me.

If I'd known Mabel had a connection to the clubhouse, I never would've chosen to stay at the diner for the last two nights.

I can only hope that Mabel doesn't know of my link to the club, and won't tell Honey I was there.

"Are you going to stand there all day, Red, or are you coming inside?"

Playfully glaring at the teasing asshole before me, I grab my bag, sling it over my shoulder, then slam the car door shut and follow him up the steps onto the porch.

He opens the door to the clubhouse, and as I move past him, his palm meets my lower back, guiding me forward.

Shivers course over my body, and heat thrums through my veins from the feel of his skin against mine.

Once we enter the bar, his hand drops away, and I'm swarmed with disappointment from the loss.

"Thank God," Dodger grumbles, lifting his head from the wooden table of the booth he's sitting in. "Trixie, please tell me you have time to make some food?"

Watching as he rubs at his temples and peers up at me desperately through squinted eyes. I'd hazard a guess he's hungover. I'd also assume that's why there's currently a lack of music flowing around the room too.

"Give me five minutes to make sure everything's in order, and then yes, I'll make you some food."

"That goes for us too, right, Trixie?" Slate asks, as he spins around on his seat at the bar while Cruz does the same beside him.

Huffing, I nod. "As long as you all promise to stop calling me that. It's awful."

"So, Reeve's the only one allowed to have a cute little nickname for you?"

"Yes," Reeve says, as he strides over to them and smacks Cruz around the head. "You can just stick to calling her Trix."

Kicking my bag under the bar, I grab the spray and cloth that Reeve is holding, then make my way upstairs.

With the way Dodger's looking this morning, I think it's safe to say they continued drinking after I'd left, so there's no doubt in my mind the living area needs cleaning.

My thoughts are proven correct when I reach the top of the stairs and see bottles littering the small coffee table between the couch and the TV, as well as some scattered across the larger table over by the door that leads to where Reeve's room is.

Sighing, I put the spray and cloth down on the arm of the sofa, then drag the bin from the corner, moving it around with me as I fill it up with glass bottles.

Once the coffee table is empty, I move the bin to the dining table, clearing that off too.

The clinking sound of the bottles rattles through my brain, loud enough for me to not hear footsteps coming up the stairs.

It's not until Mouse is walking into the room that I notice he's here. I jump at his sudden appearance, hand flying to my chest.

His eyes study mine for a moment, then he moves further into the room, dropping down onto the couch.

My chest tightens as I keep my back toward him and wipe down the table, silence filling the space around us.

We still haven't spoken since I asked him about his real name.