Page 105 of Ridin’ Dirty

Stupid. It was so totally stupid—but I convinced myself they were wrong.

I was falling for him, like an idiot, while he played me.

And the worst part was, I only had myself to blame.

I wanted it to be real, but who was I kidding?

He was letting me play house while he bided his time.

Eventually, the drama with the Kings would resolve itself, one way or another. Rumor on the street was, the cops were no longer putting in all that much effort into finding Fang. To them, he was a thug with a criminal record who belonged to a biker gang. No one was worried about Riley getting caught. What bothered the Stallions were the Kings’ threats.

How long would it be before Riley didn’t just get his fix with the easiest club slut but fell for someone else entirely?

I couldn’t do it again.

I wasn’t going to watch the man I wanted choose someone else.

Fuck karma. I didn’t care if I deserved it. I’d rather admit I was wrong and they were right.

And Carmy was right.

I outdid myself this time.

The consequences of my actions cost more than I originally thought they would. I wasn’t in a position to just leave. I threatened Pistol with divorce in the beginning, but even now I knew it to be a hollow threat. I couldn’t shove all my belongings in a duffle, toss it in the backseat of my Mustang, and bail. Not this time.

God, what a mess.

After the sun came up, I laid in bed quietly until I was sure Pistol and Reaper were gone. I didn’t want him to know I was awake. I didn’t want him trying to talk to me again. The first time I caught Pistol and Cherry together, he told me to get over it. I wasn’t sure what I might get told this time, but I knew I didn’t want to hear it. Fortunately, I was scheduled for the lunch shift at the diner. With any luck, I could avoid my husband for most of the day.

Cherry—of all people.

Why did it have to be the redhead?

I shoved the thought of both of them out of my mind as I got up and went to the bathroom. I needed to clear my head. I needed to regroup.

I had no intention of pitching a fit. Yelling and screaming hadn’t gotten me more than a couple of weeks of his loyalty and attention. Sure, I could drive to the clubhouse to have words with Cherry, but what was the point?

I bolted out of there the previous night and Pistol didn’t run after me.

As I replayed the whole thing in my mind, I stared at myself in the mirror, vexed as my eyes welled with tears. I remembered how I sat in my car for a full minute waiting for him to burst through the doors.

Shit. Shit, shit, shit.

I sealed my eyes closed tight, willing myself to get it together. With a shake of my head, I forced him out of my thoughts. Again. Then I started the shower.

Try as I might to keep my hands busy and my mind off of Pistol, the morning dragged. I arrived at the diner thirty minutes before my shift, desperate for an excuse to get lost in work. I was ready to go above and beyond my duties at the diner. I’d scrub toilets if it meant distracting me from the memory of his hand wrapped around her wrist, keeping her pinned; their faces so close, I’m sure he could smell what she had for breakfast.

I stopped at the threshold of the diner and dragged in a deep breath.

I was on the verge of getting swallowed up by my bitterness—a feeling spurred on by my jealousy. It didn’t make sense for me to be jealous of her. I knew what it was like to be her. In the end, she would lose. Deep down, I knew the chances of him picking her weren’t any greater than the chances of Twister picking me. But I couldn’t help it.

I would have been lying if I said I didn’t want him to choose me.

Turned out, I was still just as stupid as I’d always been with a tender heart I was too quick to give away.

“Pull, don’t push.”

I jumped at the sound of Rusty’s voice then twisted to see him standing behind me.