He isn’t single. Even when he says he is, he isn’t. She is always there. Sometimes on the sidelines, sometimes in the forefront, but nevertheless, there.
Why does it have to be her? Anyone but her. I am not about to share him, or any man. I want a man who only has eyes for me. A simple enough request, I’d think, but proving hard to find. The fact that I have a hard time trusting men doesn’t help either. I am one of those suffer-in-silence, keep-everything-to-themselves type of people. I hardly ever put myself out there, which is probably why I’m still single.
“What about Allie?” I ask, curious as to what his answer will be.
Anna told me he’s on and off again with her, and it’s been this way for years. To me, it sounds messy. A complication I don’t need or want, no matter how drawn to him I am.
I want him, badly. But Tracker is bad news. I think about him. I dream about him. I fantasize about him. But I keep my distance. Why? Because I’m smart enough to know that we have no future. My head tells me one thing—stay away—but farther south says something else—invite him in. I get wet just at the thought of him. He has that much control over me. The wanting, will it ever end? I sure as fuck hope so.
The reality is that he probably has that effect on most women. Including Allie—that’s why I do what I can to discourage his flirting and persistence, which is getting more and more frequent and which I’m having a harder time refusing.
Tracker scowls, a look of displeasure entering his dreamy eyes. “Allie and I are over. I’m not seeing anyone right now.”
But for how long? I don’t want to be caught in the cross fire of their relationship. While he may insist that it’s over with them, it’s clear she doesn’t think that, which suggests he’s leading her on. Why would I want a guy like that? I am worth more than that.
I am at war with myself. I can only hope and pray that my mind wins over my body.
“Okay,” I say slowly. “Ummm . . .”
I don’t know what to say. The rejection is hard to form on my lips. The sounds didn’t want to come out, my body betraying me once more.
His eyes and mouth soften, as if he senses my inner turmoil. “I thought maybe you and I could—”
Could what? Have sex?
Did he think I was a sure thing?
I mean, he had to know I was attracted to him, right? I can’t stop the excitement I feel at the thought of being with him. Just thinking about his touch makes me blush and my sensuality come alive. I want to explore that side of me, with him.
Then something occurs to me. Does he want me to be his rebound girl? The thought of that hurts. As lame as it sounds, I don’t want to be his rebound, I want to be his forever girl. His wife. His old lady, as I’ve heard Faye being called.
Yeah, I’m living in a dream world. And if Tracker knew my thoughts he would run to the other side of the country. I don’t even know if he does commitment. From what I heard, he wasn’t always faithful to Allie, another strike against him. Cheating is unforgivable to me. William was the first and only cheating scum I will have anything to do with. If Tracker’s okay with sleeping around on a girl who cared about him—even if she is a massive bitch—then he’s not someone I want to waste time on.
“I don’t think so, Tracker,” I reply before he can finish his sentence, looking down as I speak. The words hurt coming out, because really all I want to scream is yes! My resolve hardens and I push those thoughts away.
“Why not?” he asks quietly. “I’ve seen how you look at me.”
Yep, he knows. Of course he knows.
No wonder he thinks I’d get on the back of his bike just like that.
He knows.
And I can’t believe he just said that. Red-cheeked, I choose to ignore his comment and point toward the hallway. “Go and find her.”
He stands, but then crouches in front of me, his hands resting on both of my thighs. “We would be so fuckin’ good together, you know that, right?”
I know. We would be. While it lasted anyway.
Then I’d be left to deal with the ramifications of giving in to him.
A broken heart.
“Yeah, but for how long?” I reply, forcing a smile that doesn’t reach my eyes. “I don’t want to be just another woman to you, Tracker.”
He studies me, eyes flashing. “I don’t think I’d put in this much effort for a one-night stand, Lana.”
I think about that. What am I to him? Just a game? I don’t know. I wish I could know what was going on in his head, but either way I’m not ready to risk my heart with this man. I need someone I can trust, someone who I know will be faithful and loyal to me. When I stay silent, he sighs.
“Luckily I’m a patient man,” he murmurs, sliding a finger down my cheek with a gentleness that surprises me. He stands and calls out, “You better have found a good spot, Clover, because I’m coming.”
I try and hide my grin as I watch him roam the clubhouse, looking for Clover. She must have hidden in the kitchen, because I hear laughter—his low chuckle and her high-pitched squeals—coming from there. For a second, I imagine that this was our house, and he was playing with our daughter.
Aaaand that’s why I’m a good writer. I have a huge imagination.
Shit.
* * *
“This place is huge,” I comment, walking around the clubhouse. I’ve been here before but was never given a full tour. I stop at a wall full of mug shots. “Keeping it classy?”