Read Online Wanted: Devil Dogs MC by Evelyn Glass - Free Book Online
Authors: Evelyn Glass
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first time Isabel has heard Mike’s patience start to wear thin. A lesser man would have given up on her a long time ago.
“Mike, I’m really sorry, but now isn’t a great time.” She starts pacing around the room, as is customary for her when she’s having a difficult conversation, only belatedly remembering she’s in Wesley’s bedroom, not her own. She puts on her best professional-sounding voice. “I’m just with a tenant. There are a few things we need to sort out.” She looks over at the door to find Wesley, unabashedly listening to her entire conversation, eyebrows raised, smirk firmly in place.
“Of course, you’re working. I didn’t mean to interrupt.” Mike is all deference and good manners, just as he always is.
“I’ll call you later, Mike.” The promise sounds hollow even to her ears.
“No you won’t, Issy.” He huffs a sigh. “But I’ll try you again tomorrow. Take care of yourself.”
He hangs up without giving her the chance to respond, probably a good thing, as she doesn’t even know what she would say to him that she hasn’t already covered. Before she left Dallas she had told him, in detail, why he didn’t want to be with her, why she wasn’t a catch and why they were better off a friends. He hadn’t wanted to listen then or any of the times they’d spoken since. Today doesn’t seem to be any different.
She remains staring at the cell in her hand for a few seconds, feeling like a bad person for not being able to tell him what he wants to hear: that she wants him, that she wants to be with him and only him. But if she had told him any of those things, they would be lies and she doesn’t want to lie to him any more than she already had.
“So it looks like I’m not the only one with secrets.” Wesley gives her a meaningful look.
Isabel frowns, pocketing the cell, irritated now at his knowing smirk. “Didn’t your mother ever tell you it’s rude to listen to people’s private conversations?”
“You’re one to talk.” He doesn’t miss a beat. “Didn’t your mother ever teach you not to nose around in people’s bedrooms?”
Isabel feels herself flush, partly from embarrassment, partly from anger and she takes another step towards him until they’re only a foot apart. “This is my place, Wesley. And I have a right to know if something’s going on that could drive me under because right now, I’m about this close to falling overboard.” She holds up her index finger and thumb indicating less than an inch. “I don’t have the luxury of turning a blind eye to whatever it is you’re doing every night that gets your clothes all bloody and torn.”
Finally, there’s a flicker of something in his dark eyes, something fiery and dangerous. She wonders at the wisdom of getting a man like this angry, but this conversation has become about more than just him. It’s as if all the emotions she’s been feeling since her mother died – the panic that grips her every morning when she thinks of the impossible task she’s attempting on the boarding-house, her frustration at having let herself sleep with Mike, just because she was lonely and more than a little drunk – are being poured into this rage.
“I want to know what you’re hiding, Wes. And I intend to find out, one way or another.” She narrows her eyes at him, as she prods her index finger into his hard chest.
“Be careful what you wish for, because you just might get it, Bel.” Her nickname on his lips is like a caress and he takes hold of her finger, pulling her closer to him so her green eyes are only inches away from his brown ones. “You know you have the most amazing eyes, Bel. Eyes like that can drive a man insane.”
In an instant his mouth is on hers, his tongue, probing at the seam of her lips, insistent, and, after a moment of surprise, she willingly opens to him. She moans as their tongues tangle and his hands move to either side
“Mike, I’m really sorry, but now isn’t a great time.” She starts pacing around the room, as is customary for her when she’s having a difficult conversation, only belatedly remembering she’s in Wesley’s bedroom, not her own. She puts on her best professional-sounding voice. “I’m just with a tenant. There are a few things we need to sort out.” She looks over at the door to find Wesley, unabashedly listening to her entire conversation, eyebrows raised, smirk firmly in place.
“Of course, you’re working. I didn’t mean to interrupt.” Mike is all deference and good manners, just as he always is.
“I’ll call you later, Mike.” The promise sounds hollow even to her ears.
“No you won’t, Issy.” He huffs a sigh. “But I’ll try you again tomorrow. Take care of yourself.”
He hangs up without giving her the chance to respond, probably a good thing, as she doesn’t even know what she would say to him that she hasn’t already covered. Before she left Dallas she had told him, in detail, why he didn’t want to be with her, why she wasn’t a catch and why they were better off a friends. He hadn’t wanted to listen then or any of the times they’d spoken since. Today doesn’t seem to be any different.
She remains staring at the cell in her hand for a few seconds, feeling like a bad person for not being able to tell him what he wants to hear: that she wants him, that she wants to be with him and only him. But if she had told him any of those things, they would be lies and she doesn’t want to lie to him any more than she already had.
“So it looks like I’m not the only one with secrets.” Wesley gives her a meaningful look.
Isabel frowns, pocketing the cell, irritated now at his knowing smirk. “Didn’t your mother ever tell you it’s rude to listen to people’s private conversations?”
“You’re one to talk.” He doesn’t miss a beat. “Didn’t your mother ever teach you not to nose around in people’s bedrooms?”
Isabel feels herself flush, partly from embarrassment, partly from anger and she takes another step towards him until they’re only a foot apart. “This is my place, Wesley. And I have a right to know if something’s going on that could drive me under because right now, I’m about this close to falling overboard.” She holds up her index finger and thumb indicating less than an inch. “I don’t have the luxury of turning a blind eye to whatever it is you’re doing every night that gets your clothes all bloody and torn.”
Finally, there’s a flicker of something in his dark eyes, something fiery and dangerous. She wonders at the wisdom of getting a man like this angry, but this conversation has become about more than just him. It’s as if all the emotions she’s been feeling since her mother died – the panic that grips her every morning when she thinks of the impossible task she’s attempting on the boarding-house, her frustration at having let herself sleep with Mike, just because she was lonely and more than a little drunk – are being poured into this rage.
“I want to know what you’re hiding, Wes. And I intend to find out, one way or another.” She narrows her eyes at him, as she prods her index finger into his hard chest.
“Be careful what you wish for, because you just might get it, Bel.” Her nickname on his lips is like a caress and he takes hold of her finger, pulling her closer to him so her green eyes are only inches away from his brown ones. “You know you have the most amazing eyes, Bel. Eyes like that can drive a man insane.”
In an instant his mouth is on hers, his tongue, probing at the seam of her lips, insistent, and, after a moment of surprise, she willingly opens to him. She moans as their tongues tangle and his hands move to either side
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