She shook her head. "No. I can't kick you out of your bed. I'll sleep on the floor." Memories of her pallet at the foot of Frederick's bed and the cage she sometimes slept in flitted through her mind. "I'm good with that."
An incredulous look passed over his face. "There's no fuckin' way I'm gonna let you sleep on the floor while I'm in the bed. You take the bed. Fini."
Warmth spread over her like honey. "Merci, Roche."
"For what?"
"For helping me out … for everything." She smiled and took a few steps toward him.
"Of course. We're from the same parish. We were friends a long time ago."
Her heart sank a bit and her stomach tightened. Is that all he remembers of our times together? Just friends? Was our lovemaking something between friends? I recall it differently.
"And I'm Rock, not Roche, okay?"
She nodded and stared straight out the window. "And I'm Clotille." From the corner of her eye she noticed him glance at her, a smile on his face. She wanted to go over to him and hug him hard, bury her head in his chest and breathe in the scent that tantalized her during their ride to Pinewood Springs, but she only stood there, watching him.
"You can settle in and rest. I'm gonna go downstairs and have a couple drinks with my brothers. If you want something to eat, just text me and I'll come up and get you. Don't wander around here alone. You're not wearing my patch, so the guys will think you're open for business. You know what I'm saying?"
Her eyes widened. "You mean they'll think I want to have sex with them because I'm here?"
He nodded. "That's the way it is. They'll think you're a hoodrat, who's looking for some fun. The only women who hang at the club are the club women and the hoodrats, and fucking is the main reason they're here. You need to stay close to me. The old ladies wear their man's patch, so they can come and go as they please, but if you don't have a patch you're telling the brothers you wanna spread your pretty legs."
"That's insane!"
He shrugged. "That's the way our world rolls." He opened the door and looked back. "Text me and I'll come right up." Then he was gone.
Emptiness spread through Clotille as she stood alone, looking at the closed door. She sighed and moved over to her small bag on the bed, taking out her toiletries and going into the bathroom. She turned the water on, loving the way the steam encased her. She needed a hot shower to ease her aching muscles from the hellish ride into Pinewood Springs, knowing she'd feel a lot better after. I wonder if Roche-I mean Rock-is interested in me anymore. He looks at me like he is, but then he acts like a distant friend. Maybe it's for the best to leave the past behind. There are things that he'll never forgive me for. We haven't seen each other in twelve years. We really don't know each other at all. He's very different from when we were in high school. His outlaw world frightens me. It kills without flinching. How did everything get so messed up?
She shook her head as if to dislodge the shadows of the past and then stepped into the shower.
* * *
When Rock entered the great room, several brothers grinned at him and gave him the thumbs-up approval of Clotille. Rock smiled smugly as he swaggered over to the bar and grabbed the shot of Jack that Blade had waiting for him.
"Who's the woman in your room? She's fuckin' gorgeous," Hoss said.
"How come you been hiding her from us, bro?" Chicory punched Rock in the arm.
"She's just a friend from back home. She's visiting for a little bit." He threw the whiskey back, the amber liquid warming his throat.
"Then you don't mind if I get to know her?" Chicory propped his elbows on the bar and held Rock's gaze.
"Don't even fuckin' go near her," he gritted before he threw back another shot. Chicory sniggered. "Yeah, I wasn't buying the ‘just my friend' bullshit."
"Whatever. You guys staying for a while? Maybe we can get Bones and play a few rounds of pool. I'm feeling lucky tonight." Rock took out three joints and gave each of the brothers one before he lit his and took a deep drag.
"With that cutie, I bet you're feeling all kinds of lucky." Chicory nudged Hoss, who nodded in agreement.
"Yeah, we're not talking about her anymore. So you wanna play pool or not?"
"I'd like to, but my mom is sick so I gotta go and see her in a little while," Chicory said. "I gotta do duty at Dream House tonight. I hope Crystal's working. She can dance real good." Hoss smiled broadly.
"Yeah, like you're lookin' at her dancing." Rock laughed and took another hit from his joint.
"I appreciate the art of dance." Hoss brought his beer bottle to his mouth.
"More like an appreciation of tits and ass. And Crystal's got a fine-looking rack," Chicory said. "Who's your favorite dancer at Dream House, Rock?"
Rock bent his head back and blew his smoke toward the ceiling. "Fuck, I haven't been there in a while. I used to work there a lot, but now Banger wants me at the club more. Janelle is pretty hot, and Sasha has an ass that a man could sink his teeth into." The three men chuckled and compared notes on the different strippers who worked at Dream House.
Rock turned around when he felt someone clasp his shoulder. Bones stared at him stone-faced. Rock smiled and offered his brother a joint, but Bones just shook his head.
"What the fuck's up with you? I don't ever remembering you turning down a smoke, dude." Rock put the joint back in his pocket.
"Are you drunk, high, or just plain fucking crazy bringing that rich prick's wife to the club? What the fuck, bro?"
"I didn't tell you, but I know her from my hometown. Isn't that a fuckin' small world?"
"Shit's gonna hit the fan when Banger finds out."
Rock shrugged. "Shit's always hitting the fan around here for some damn reason or another. I'll deal with it."
"You fucking her?"
"Nah. We're just friends."
"That's the best kinda fucking. You know each other, no love involved, just admiration for each other." Bones glanced at his cell phone. "Damn, I promised my brother I'd help him fix his truck. I gotta go. Looking forward to the fireworks at our next church." He drained his glass and placed it on the counter. "Later." Bones rushed out the door.
After a couple hours, Rock checked his phone to see if Clotille had texted him, but there were no messages or calls. He wanted to make sure she was all right, so he took the stairs two at a time until he came to his room. He opened the door and saw her lying on his bed, wrapped in one of his many quilts-Isa was fucking obsessed with them-fast asleep. He padded over to her and took in her beauty: flawless skin, hair as golden as honey in the sun, lips full and parted slightly, and long burnt-umber lashes. She's so fuckin' beautiful. As he gazed at Clotille, he felt magnetically drawn to her, and he brushed her pinkish cheeks with the back of his hand. Fuck, they're so damn soft. He sucked in his breath, the desire to kiss her, thread his fingers through her tresses, and trace her body with his tongue overwhelming. He longed to see her creamy breasts and suck their nipples to hardness. His desire grew and his pulse quickened as he looked on, his jeans tightening as the need for her burned from his head to his stiff dick.
For such a long time he'd thought about her, replaying their last night together over and over in his mind, like a movie projector set on autopilot. Mixed with loving thoughts of her were strains of bitterness, anger, and … hate. When he'd needed her the most, she'd dumped him for the rich high school star quarterback, whose father had paid his way to Harvard. Rock had been the troubled bad boy, who started fights, smoked cigarettes, and skipped school. He'd been from the other side of the tracks-white trash. Then he'd beaten his dad nearly to death and had ended up in the slammer. How could he ever blame her for bailing? Even so, it'd hurt when she'd given up on him so quickly. And looking at her at that moment, the hurt he'd buried deep inside began to resurface. He wanted her desperately, but he didn't want to be dragged into her web again. He had vowed that he'd never let that happen. My sweet Clotille. You're a ball buster, that's for sure.
"I like you looking at me. It reminds me of when we were young," she said as her eyes fluttered open.
His head jerked. "Uh … I was making sure you were okay. I still can't believe you're here after all these years." He ran his hand through his hair. "You gonna tell me what the fuck's going on with you?"