Under Locke (61 page)

Repeatedly.

When the heck had I become this person? This girl that had to grit her teeth because jealousy threatened to make
her
pop a few blood vessels. The smile on my face felt forced, fake, unnatural.

And the worst part was that we'd only been at his house for fifteen minutes tops.

Why hadn’t I pushed harder to stay at Dex’s house instead? I’d told Dex I didn’t want to go. It wasn’t necessarily that I never wanted to see Luther or other Widowmakers again. I just didn’t want to see them any time soon. The whole crap in Dex’s office had been mortifying. The last thing I wanted was for them to look at me with “Poor Ris” on their faces.

I hated that damn look.

Dex had simply looked at me with those thoughtful eyes and stroked the line of my nose. “You told me to go fuck myself in front of club members. You, who says friggin’ and ef, babe.” He blinked. “Think you called me a dickface, too. Didn’t ya?”

Whoops. That was a positive.

The tip of his finger tapped my nose as he exhaled loudly. “Trust me, honey. I’m sorry I said that to you but the only thing anybody is gonna remember from that day is what you called me, not the other way around.”

I had supposed in that moment that Dex had a point. Hadn’t he gotten into a fight after that?

I finally relented and agreed to go to Luther’s place. The possibility that there might be people there that knew Dex more intimately than I did never even occurred to me.

Based on the number of
bodies
at his house, the "get together" Dex had told me about that morning, was going to be an all day event. It wasn't like I could complain. I didn't have any right to judge him
for
the people he'd been with...I couldn't even finish the thought without nausea clawing its way up my throat.

I was
that
jealous bitch.

I bumped into a short blonde as I shuffled out of the kitchen with my friggin' quinoa patty and fruit salad in hand. The girl looked in my direction and gave me a slow, apprising smile. In jeans that looked painted on and a tank top that barely held in her huge boobs, she was all confidence. And gigantic boob
ies.

"Sorry," she said in a soft voice that wasn't entirely convincing.

Oh boy. Had Dex slept with her too?

You don't want to know.

Oh hell.

I flashed her a strained smile. "Sorry about that."

And then I fled.

Wuss.

Luther's massive backyard was packed with Widowmakers and their families. There was a pretty big pool right smack in the middle of the property with quite a bit of kids splashing around, screaming. Adults littered the folding tables and chairs that had been set up around the perimeter as classic rock blasted through the speakers mounted on the back patio.

It was nice. Really friggin' nice.

But just like at Dex's niece's party, I felt out of place without my brother and the black-haired man I'd slept under last night. The only way to change that was by making friends, right?

But I could make friends later. When I wasn't standing awkwardly by the door like my freshman year of high school in the cafeteria.

There was a cluster of black vests and different shades of white and black t-shirts by one of the tables all the way in the back. Of friggin' course. I side-stepped my way through the screaming kids running around their moms, and spotted Dex's dark hair. He was sitting down, elbows to his knees, watching one of the other members with a disinterested expression on his face.

One of the men, an older one I hadn't seen much of during my stay in Austin, hit him with the back of his hand, tilting his chin up. Immediately, those pure blue eyes shot up and around the chairs surrounding him. He gaze shifted and drifted past the men, past the women, until finally landing on me.

I waggled my eyebrows, circling the chairs the Widows had grouped together. The side of Dex's full, pink mouth quirked up at my gesture.

"Hi guys," I said loudly enough for the dozen other members to hear me.

Ten different variations of "What's goin' on, Ris," came back to me as I came to stand in front of Dex, waving at the Club members in return.

I lifted up my plate. "Can I sit with you?" I asked him. The idea that he would say no wasn't even a figment of a possibility in my brain.

Dex sat back in his chair spreading his legs wide, his bright white t-shirt popped even more against the colorful figures of his sleeves. The corner of his lips stayed tipped up. "
’
Course you can, honey."

The obvious choice was probably to sit in his lap but instead, I turned around and crossed my legs before sinking to the ground between Dex's
feet
. I felt him shift behind me, his thighs closing in around my arms. Fingers sifted through my hair, pulling the strands over one of my shoulders.

"What'cha got?" he murmured into my ear. He twisted my hair around his fingers in tight, messy knots.

I showed him my plate.

Dex plucked a piece of watermelon off of it with his other hand. A low rumble of approval resonated through his throat after licking his fingertips clean.

I think I shuddered a little when he picked up a grape afterward with those long graceful fingers.

We ate silently. I finished the quinoa patty in three bites while Dex picked pieces of fruit off, wrapping and unwrapping my hair from his fist over and over again. His chest was warm on my back while we sat there huddled. The rest of the Widows talked about a trip some of them were thinking about taking along the west coast.

"It sounds longer than it is," Luther agreed to whatever specific aspect they were talking about.

I choked on the piece of apple I'd been in the middle of eating. The joke bit at my tongue. Wrong people to say that in front of.

"I've done it. It's not hard,
but it’s
long," an older man I'd only seen in passing, agreed.

Yep. I choked again. The
that's what she said
stuck in my throat right alongside that same damn piece of apple.

"Bunch of pussies. It's doable."

Dex slapped my back as he dipped his face down, his cheek nuzzling my own as I swallowed the fruit with a savage gulp. His breathing sounded strangled, and it took me a second to realize that he was trying his hardest not to burst out laughing.

"Knock it off," he
snickered
, digging a finger into my ribs with a puff of air against my ear.

I snorted loud and clear.

Dex jabbed me in the rib even harder, his chest rumbling loud, loud, loud. I had to face away from him and shove my nose and mouth into his thigh to stifle the laugh that wanted to desperately come out.

"What's so damn funny?" Luther asked.

"Nothin'," Dex answered a little too quickly.

I buried my entire face tighter against the thick muscle of his quadriceps.

Someone made a noise like they didn't entirely believe him but whatever. It took me a lot longer than it should have to get it under control but by the time I did, there were a couple of women sitting on some of the guys' laps.

But I only zeroed in on one. That damn Becky.

If I had hackles I'm sure they'd be up to the stars when I spotted her. I must have stiffened because Dex squeezed my shoulders.

"What's wrong?" he whispered into my ear.

It was immature, I knew it, but I couldn't help but want to pull away from him. It wasn't fair, I know that. But seriously?
Seriously?

"Nothing important," I managed to mumble, my fingers suddenly feeling a little less than stable holding the plate.

"I'm askin' for the truth, babe."

Hadn't I just told him the night before that I promised to tell him the truth? I looked over to see her looking at Luther with dreamy eyes. Oh lord. Sonny's words about her lack of intelligence rang through my brain. "You've been with her, right?" I didn't need to be specific about who I was talking about, he'd know.

Dex didn't miss a beat. "Yeah."

Well. Hell. He'd answered that without even thinking about it.

I wanted to puke.

"Why?" he asked in a low voice so that only I could hear.

Why? It was only the urge to punch him in the face that kept me from throwing up. "And the blonde inside?" I was an immature asshole. I knew that and yet, I didn't give a crap in that moment.

"Which one?"

Holy shit. My entire body tensed up.

"Never mind, Dex," I hissed. I didn't want to hiss but it came so naturally, it didn't matter.

"Ritz." The tip of his nose touched my cheek. "Jealous?"

He was out of his mind if I was going to answer that question when he sounded way too
pleased
.

"Most these girls have been around the Club for a while," he explained like that was a reasonable excuse I'd want to friggin' hear. "It's nothin'."

Nothing. It was nothing.

It probably wasn't. That tiny logical part of me accepted that as the truth, but the other part—the hormonal one—
crav
ed castration.

God, I hoped my period wasn't coming sooner than it should.

I didn't need to sit there and stew over the fact that I'd probably be stuck facing women that he'd slept with at these sort of gatherings. I was nauseous. And an idiot. What else would I expect? I needed to get away from the reminder of where Dex's pubic piercing had been, and as I looked down at my lap, where it hadn't been.

Forcing a nod, I came to my feet slowly so that I wouldn't accidentally hit him in the face. It wasn't his fault that he had a history while I practically had a negative one. But wouldn't he at least understand that I wouldn't want to face stuff like that? Even if the girl seemed to hang on to whatever man gave her any attention.

Okay, that was rude. For all I knew she was probably a nice girl that had daddy issues I couldn't hold a flame to. I needed to quit being a jerk.

"I think I'm gonna take a dip for a little bit," I said, averting my gaze to the kids around the oval shaped pool. If I looked at Dex, he'd be able to tell that something was bothering me.

With my luck, he already did.

He grabbed onto my wrist, tugging at it. "Iris." My name came out as a grumble.

I touched the top of his head with my other hand, still unable to look at him. "It's fine. I'll be back."

Dex would make a scene if he wanted, but luckily he didn't. His grip loosened enough until I was able to slip out of it, plate in one hand, my pride wounded and clinging to the other. I threw my trash into the nearest
can
and went to grab my bag from the pile of stuff on one of the tables closest to the back door.

With my towel in one hand, I made my way to the pool, smiling at some of the women that I recognized with enough enthusiasm that I hopefully didn't look like a raging, jealous bitch in a bad mood.

I needed to calm down.

Chill out.

Relax—