“Your house is almost as disgusting as the Armory,” Horse said to Ruger.

“Like yours used to be?” Ruger asked.

“I don’t remember that,” Horse replied, his expression innocent.

“Just be glad you have Marie around. Otherwise you’d be livin’ this way, too.”

“I was never gross like this.”

“It’s not that bad,” I said, smiling at Ruger, my earlier frustration forgotten. I honestly couldn’t believe how gorgeous his place was. I had no idea what the basement looked like, but it could be a spider hole and I’d still be thrilled, just for the location. Not to mention the yard for Noah. “But how did you get a house like this? I mean, it had to cost a fortune. How much land do you have?”

“Fifteen acres,” he said, a shadow crossing his face. “I bought it in March. Used my share of Mom’s estate for the down payment.”

I cocked my head, stunned. Ruger’s mother, Karen, had been disabled in a car accident a couple years before I met her. She’d been living on disability by the time I came along, pinching every penny. I’d never forget the sacrifices she made when she brought me into her home.

I’d also never forget the betrayal on her face when I moved out after sending her stepson to jail.

“What the hell? Why was she living so poor if she could afford something like this? Why did you let her?”

His expression darkened.

“They finally settled,” he said. “After all those years, fuckin’ insurance company finally offered us a settlement. Too late. It went into the estate and I used my half to buy this place.”

My breath caught.

“When?”

“Just about a year ago.”

“And Zach got the other half?” I asked, swaying. “He’s got money like this and he still stopped paying his child support?”

“Sounds like it,” Ruger replied, his voice tight. “Remember what you asked me earlier? You really surprised by anything Zach does? Mom never thought she’d leave anything but bills. Estate planning wasn’t a priority.”

“That bastard,” I whispered, stunned. “We’re starving and he’s off spending your mom’s money … She’d be so pissed.”

“Hard to argue with that,” he muttered. “Marrying his dad was the stupidest thing she ever did, and I’ve been payin’ for it ever since. Zach’s a fuckin’ weight around my neck. Everything he touches turns to shit, and then I’m stuck haulin’ out his garbage. Again.”

I felt like he’d just punched me in the stomach.

“Is that how you feel about me and Noah?”

RUGER

Fuck.

He couldn’t believe he’d said that. At least Noah hadn’t heard it.

Sophie, though … Jesus.

“I’m gonna start unloading the car,” Horse said. Coward.

“No, I don’t feel that way, Sophie. Believe me,” Ruger said, and he meant it. “You’re the only fuckin’ thing he ever did that’s worth a damn. I’m crazy about Noah, you know that. And we don’t always get along, but you’re important to him and that makes you pretty fuckin’ important to me.”

She offered him a quavering smile, and to his horror he saw the glint of tears in her eyes. Not good. Ruger could handle Sophie pissed off, but crying?

No. Fuck no.

“Let me show you your place,” he said quickly. “Downstairs. You got your own French doors down there, private entrance. It’s pretty. You can use the front door, too, if you like.”

“Thanks,” she murmured. Ruger walked across the kitchen to the basement door. He opened it, leaning in to turn on the light, holding it open for Sophie. He followed her down the steps, feeling like a dick. Then he felt like a bigger dick, because instead of thinking about ways to make things better, he checked out her rather fine ass.

Damn woman had been driving him crazy all day.

Her tits practically jumped out of that tank of hers, and the cutoffs had to be ten years old, the fabric was so worn and thin. They were tight, too, which matched his theory about their age. Sophie wasn’t fat, but she’d put on some weight since high school. In fact, she’d filled out far too nicely for his comfort. Having her in the house would be a living hell. Hell already. He couldn’t see her legs without imagining them wrapped around his waist. When she’d propped them up on the dash earlier, he’d almost crashed the goddamned car.

He thought about that morning, on the couch in her apartment. His cock grew bigger with the memory, and he hoped to hell she wouldn’t notice, because he’d been right about one thing. Sophie really could be a stuck-up bitch, and he didn’t doubt for a minute she’d use his attraction against him. She might want to fuck him—and he knew she did, she’d been as into it as he had—but that didn’t mean she thought he was good enough for her.

Fuck, she was probably right about that one.

Screwing her would kick ass. But after that? Things would get weird. Ruger wasn’t interested in settling down with any woman, but if he ever did, she’d be different from Sophie. She’d fit in with the club, for one thing. She’d be the kind of girl who knew how to crack a beer at the end of a long day, kick back, and then give him a blow job before bed. She’d love riding on the back of his bike, she’d be blonde, and she’d be tough enough to hold her own in a fight.

Most important, she wouldn’t fucking talk back to him. Sophie had a hell of a mouth.

“Wow, it’s beautiful,” Sophie said, stopping him dead at the bottom of the stairs. He looked at her to find all traces of wistful sorrow gone. Instead she smiled big at him, clearly thrilled with something or other. Damn, woman’s moods changed so fucking fast, a man couldn’t even begin to keep up. “I can’t believe this. How did you get everything ready so quickly?”

He blinked, then looked around, shocked.

What the fuck?

When he’d left that morning, the place had been clean-ish. Not because he’d cleaned it, of course, but because one of the girls from the clubhouse had a few weeks ago for some reason. Trying to hook him for her old man, probably. He’d fucked her and kicked her out, because he’d be damned if he’d let one of those bitches get their claws into him.

It wasn’t sort of clean now, though. It fucking sparkled.

This was supposed to be a family room, with a small kitchen built into the back for reasons he’d never bothered to consider. There was a short hallway to the side, with two bedrooms, a bathroom, and a utility room. He used one of the bedrooms for storage, the other as a place for his friends to crash. Never once had it looked or felt like a home.

Someone had come in and fixed all that.

Softy, fuzzy-looking blankets were draped across the couches, and a spiral rag rug full of bright colors covered the center of the beige carpet. There were fresh flowers on the coffee table, right in front of the wall of glass looking out over the valley. French doors opened onto the little patio under the ground-floor deck. Two loungers covered in big, soft pillows sat ready and waiting for use outside, framed on either side by cascading hanging baskets.

They hadn’t been there that morning.

There were even more fresh flowers on the pretty blue-checked cloth covering the round table near the kitchen. A goddamn mystery table, because he had no fucking clue where it came from. Even the windows looked different. He studied them, then realized they had new blinds and long, gauzy curtains.

Then he saw the TV. A flat-screen sat on what looked like an old-fashioned wooden radio, which he had to admit was kind of cool and different. Not a huge TV, but plenty big for the space. Sophie darted down the hallway, sadness forgotten. He understood her sudden happiness, because right now the basement looked a lot more comfortable and welcoming than his space upstairs.

“Ruger, I can’t believe this!” she said called from one of the rooms. He walked in to find a child’s bed, dresser, and bookshelf set up and ready to go, complete with a motorcycle-covered blanket and pillowcase. The walls had been painted light blue and little pictures that matched the blanket edged the ceiling. One wall had a big, black square painted on it, with the words “Noah’s Room” written on it in chalk. “Noah is going to love this. Thank you so much!”