Twisted Steel: An MC Anthology: Second Edition Elizabeth Knox (cheapest way to read ebooks .txt) 📖

Awkwardness engulfed me, and I had to remind myself that he’d essentially walked away from us and whatever we’d had. Granted, thanks to my stubborn pride I hadn’t reached out to him in over a week either. Not that I hadn’t wanted to.

“Well, we should probably get going and let Ms. Monroe get back to her date,” he said with a slight sneer at the last word. “You two enjoy yourselves.”

“Goodnight, and it was nice meeting you,” Mary said over her shoulder as she rushed to catch up to her son. He moved with such masculine grace, he reminded me of a panther prowling through his domain.

More than anything, I wanted to run after him to tell him this wasn’t what it seemed, but that would shoot all my careful planning to shit. I needed to focus. I also needed to remember he was the one who had ended things.

“So what exactly is your connection to Luke Matthews?” Chet asked the question as if it was idle curiosity, but the tenseness hadn’t left his shoulders.

“We worked together on the planning for the annual fundraiser. As you probably know, his club was a huge contributor to its inception. You’re also probably aware they make a significant donation each year in both time and money.” I sipped my drink as if I wasn’t bothered by the query in the least.

He snorted softly. “You mean his gang of thugs?”

Frowning at his bitter tone, I shrugged. “I’m not really that familiar with them outside the fundraiser.” Lies!

I was so familiar with Luke Matthews, I could draw him like a French girl from memory—that was, if I could draw anything outside of a stick figure.

“Well, it might be a good idea to steer clear of him and his gang of merry misfits. They’re all trouble, and I’d hate to see you get tied up in that,” he said before he wiped his mouth with the cloth napkin.

“Oh!” I tried for wide-eyed innocence again. “Have you known him long, then?”

“My whole life. He was older than me though. I went to school with his brother.”

“I see. Well, I’ll certainly keep that in mind, though I doubt our paths will cross outside of the annual fundraiser. Well, and occasionally running into each other in restaurants, it would seem.” Another artificial smile, and one last sip of my beverage.

The waiter came by, and Chet gave him his credit card. I insisted on paying for my “bar tab.”

“Well, it’s getting late. I suppose we should call it a night,” I said after he paid the bill. When I stood, I made a production of being unsteady. Pushing my boobs together as I leaned forward on the table to catch my balance, I gasped.

“Oh! Goodness,” I said as I blinked innocently. Of course his eyes were focused on my display of cleavage again. I wanted to smirk at how predictable he was.

“Let me walk you out,” he said as he clasped my elbow in a firm grip. He walked me to my car but placed a hand on my arm when I went to open my door.

“As an officer of the law, it wouldn’t be prudent of me to let a lady drive home after several mixed drinks.”

“I’m not drunk,” I insisted.

“Maybe not blackout drunk, but you probably shouldn’t be driving. Let me give you a ride home,” he smoothly insisted.

“Are you sure?” I asked, faking concern and appreciation.

“Absolutely, and if you can’t get a ride over to pick up your car tomorrow, I’ll be happy to drive you back here.”

“Oh, thank you so much.” I gripped my purse tightly and threw my arms around him, smashing my boobs into his chest. I wanted to cringe when his hand slid from my back to rest on the top of my ass.

We were halfway back to Grantsville when he briefly glanced my way. “Since I’m driving, could I interest you in stopping by my place for a glass of wine? It’s not really all that late, so I thought we could maybe relax, talk, then I could run you home.”

“That sounds lovely. Thank you,” I said with a doe-eyed gaze.

He lived in a newer neighborhood in a beautiful home. He left his car parked in the driveway and ushered me inside.

While I waited on the couch, I checked out the living room. Hardwood floors, massive stone fireplace, vaulted ceiling, with the upstairs looking down on the entire area. It seemed like a really expensive home for a small-town cop.

Spinning to face him as I heard him return, I pasted a smile on my face as he set the glasses on a dark wood coffee table. After efficiently removing the cork, he poured the bloodred wine in each glass until they were half-full.

With what I assumed he thought was a sultry look, he handed me my glass. “To new beginnings,” he said as he held his glass to mine.

“To new beginnings,” I repeated. My glass gave a crystal ping when they met, and I took a small sip after swirling it gently in my glass and sniffing it properly. At least I thought that’s what I was supposed to do. A wine aficionado, I was not.

I sat on the couch, placed my purse next to me, and slowly crossed my legs. “You have a beautiful home,” I offered.

“Thank you.” He appeared somewhat distraught before he added, “My parents passed away several years ago. I was only able to buy this home because of their passing. It doesn’t seem right, but I’m thankful for their thoughtfulness every day.”

“I’m so sorry!” I earnestly replied. Well, maybe that explained that.

“It’s okay. Like I said, it’s been several years, but I still miss them every day.”

Moving to set my glass on the table, I caught the base on the edge of the table. Red wine spilled across the dark wood and onto the floor. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry!”

“It’s okay, I’ve got it.” He set his glass on the dry end of