His compliments embarrass me, but I like hearing them and I like how they make me feel.
“Don’t thank me, thank your mother,” he teases, then lifts my chin up with his finger. “I assume you got your looks from her?”
I move my face out of his hold and keep my eyes on Clover, who is now playing nearby. “I do look like her a little.”
“I like it when your eyes stay on me,” he says quietly, which brings my gaze straight back to him. In his eyes I see the honesty in his statement. He likes my eyes on him.
“Why?” I ask.
He raises his eyebrow. “You know why. You’re right next to me, so don’t pretend you can’t feel it.”
Was he always so forward?
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I lie.
He makes a sound in the back of his throat. “Don’t lie to me, Lana. The pull between us is so strong it’s only a matter of time before I’m deep inside you.”
My eyes widen. “Tracker, you can’t just say shit like that!”
“I just did,” he replies smugly. “You best get used to it. I tend to say whatever the fuck I’m thinking.”
“I’m starting to see that,” I reply dryly. “Nothing embarrasses you, does it?”
He shrugs. “Don’t care what many people think, and the ones who I do care about, take me as I am.”
I smile. “Good answer. I like that.”
“Good. Now tell me something about you that I don’t already know.”
“How do I know what you do and don’t know already?” I fire back.
He glances at Clover and replies, “Exactly. It has to be something not many people know. A secret.”
I look down at the grass, thinking. “The first time I saw you, I thought you belonged on the cover of a magazine.”
I look up to see him smiling widely. “Don’t know about that, but fuckin’ happy you like what you see. When I first saw you, I thought you were beautiful. Not my usual type, but striking with all that dark hair and eyes, petite but banging body. Innocence radiated from you. You looked to Anna, and I could tell right then how close the two of you were. You aren’t like the usual women I see around the club.”
“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” I ask quietly.
He just grins. “Yet to be seen.”
I don’t know what to say to that, but luckily Clover interrupts.
“I’m thirsty!” she says.
I hand her a juice box, helping her open the straw and stick it in the hole. “There you go.”
“Thanks, Lana,” she says, then looks to Tracker. “Uncle Tracker, Mama says you like Lana.”
Tracker chuckles, while I feel my face heat at her admission.
“Is that what she said to you? Or what you overheard?” he asks Clover.
She sighs, guilty as charged. “I overheard.”
Tracker throws his head back and laughs. “You’re trouble, Clover, just like your mom. And you can tell her I said that.”
“I will,” she tells him with wide, innocent eyes, then returns to her playing.
“Fuck, she’s cute,” Tracker says, and I can hear the smile in his voice. “Do you want kids one day?”
I nod. “Sure. Two would be nice.”
“Two,” he repeats, tilting his head to the side. “I can work with that.”
Wait, did he mean . . . ?
Deciding to choose my battles and leave that comment alone, I talk to Tracker for another hour until he gets a phone call and has to leave.
When I realize I don’t want him to go, I mentally chastise myself. Keeping my distance is going to be hard, but it’s something that needs to be done.
“Do you want to go inside and read a book?” I ask Clover, packing up the blanket.
“Okay,” she replies, rubbing her eyes. “Maybe we should nap too.”
I love this kid.
THREE
WHEN I arrive at the clubhouse the next day, I’m dressed in a cuter outfit and annoyed that I put in the effort. I’d gone with my favorite pair of jeans and a strapless top, and my hair is down and brushed. Underneath my glasses, my eyelashes are coated in a thin layer of mascara and lined with a little eyeliner. I probably should wear my contacts, but I hate trying to put them in. I keep poking myself in the eye every time I try. Besides, I think my glasses suit me.
Faye is feeding Clover breakfast in the kitchen when I walk in. She looks up when I enter, smiling. “’Morning, Lana.”
“Good morning,” I tell the president’s beautiful wife, then look down at Clover. “’Morning, Clover. Don’t you look pretty today?”
She is wearing a pink princess dress and has a crown on her head. “Thank you, Lana!”
When I turn my head I see a book left on the countertop, the cover a dark gray. On it is an attractive shirtless man. I pick it up and examine it, goose bumps appearing on my flesh. “You like this book?”
Faye beams. “Yes! Have you read it? I’m halfway through and can’t put it down. Zada Ryan is quickly becoming one of my favorite authors.”
“No, I haven’t.” I straight out lie because I have no idea what else to say.
“You should,” she says, wide-eyed. She steps away from Clover and whispers to me, “I can’t believe some of the shit that’s happening in the novel right now. And damn, the woman knows how to write a sex scene. I even replayed a few of the scenes with my husband. Trust me, he wasn’t complaining one bit.”