Page 70 of Ridin’ Dirty

This was my life now, and I didn’t want my life to be pretend.

What I wanted was for my husband to want me.

‘You’ve got a chance to live the life we always dreamed of. It’s right there in front of you. All you’ve got to do is take it.’

I heard Charity’s voice in my mind, and the truth resounded loudly.

“Okay. Not exactly how I hoped to find you.”

I popped my head up and saw Max as she slid into the booth on the opposite side of the table.

“Hey.”

It was all I could think to say.

“Hey. I would ask how you’re doing, but I think I get the idea.”

We stared at one another.

Max obviously waiting for me to say something to put her at ease regarding my mental state.

Me still trying to free myself from the endless loop of my short-term memory.

‘Hey, angel. You good?’

“What are you doing tonight?” I blurted.

Remembering she just started her shift, I shook my head and stammered, “I mean, shit—you’re working.”

She raised her eyebrows, wordlessly expressing her intrigue, before she said, “Won’t be here all night. And if you need me, I’ll figure something out. What’s up?”

Without giving myself a chance to second guess my decision, I asked, “Don’t go out of your way but, maybe later you could meet me at the clubhouse?”

She smiled, the act lighting up those hazel eyes, and I couldn’t help but to return the expression.

My mind was made up.

For better or for worse—I was going to seduce my husband.

Cleared it with Will

I’ll be out of here at 9

930 latest!

See you soon

At nine, I was locking up the house behind me.

For my outfit, I decided to go casual—understated but sexy.

I wore the tightest pair of black jeans I owned, the denim distressed with holes at both knees. My cream, long-sleeved bodysuit was designed to be worn off my shoulders; and while I debated between a pair of platform heels or my tried-and-true cowgirl boots for a solid fifteen minutes, the boots won out in the end.

My look was completed with a full face of makeup, a pendant necklace, a belt with a cute horseshoe buckle, and my hair styled half up and half down. I’d yet to try it this way, and I decided I rather liked it—especially with the bangs.

As I folded myself behind the wheel of my car, the thought crossed my mind that I could get to the clubhouse and Pistol could not be there. Or, if he was, maybe he’d be behind closed doors, handling club business. I didn’t receive much information by way of gossip that day, but it was nine o’clock, and I hadn’t seen or heard from Pistol since our run-in at the diner.

‘Hey, angel. You good?’