Page 33 of His Old Lady

What is going to make you leave me alone?

Her pulse roared in her ears. She couldn't take the back and forth of the conversation any longer.

She shouldn't have to listen to what he wanted. He could take the stupid belief that because he grunted and swore to take care of her straight to hell.

"I don't know what's going to make me happy." His gaze hardened. "I know you're more likely to get killed or raped at Kingston Bar than you would any other place in Missoula."

"Yet you screwed me over getting a job at Riverside Bar where I could work with all my clothes on. Explain that one to me because I don't understand what's in your head." She crossed her arms.

"The owner..." He rubbed the back of his neck. "Shit is going down there, Faye. I don't want you mixed up in it all when something happens."

"What do you want me to do?"

His gaze burned into her. Tears blurred her gaze. She was tired of wanting him.

The pain of his rejection that had lingered long past the night they'd had sex never went away. Out of all the men who'd flirted with her, asked her out, and tried to be a part of her life, none of them ever compared to Curley—in reality, and in her mind.

She'd tried to forget him and stop loving him, and the harder she tried, the more he showed back up in her life, pushing his power over their relationship on her.

Looking away from him, she blinked. "I need to get going."

"Where?"

"It's the first Sunday of the month." She gazed back at him as if that day meant something.

He should know where she'd go.

He'd gone with her to the prison for years, using the same schedule. Her visits had to happen when Tarkio members weren't waiting to see Uncle Walker. Because Tarkio always came first.

"I'm sure Uncle Walker has mentioned I still visit him. I'm his only living relative left." She inhaled deeply. "I need to go put gas in my car. You can let yourself out."

He remained in the kitchen, studying her. Escaping from those dark eyes of his, she found her purse and emptied it of everything but her license and keys. They'd check everything at the prison and lock it up for her until the visit was over, and she didn't want them rifling through her things—no matter how mundane they were.

Visiting the bathroom one more time before she left, she came out and found Curley at the door, leading to the garage. She stepped out, sensing him following.

"I'll swing by tomorrow." He pushed the button for the automatic garage door.

She stood by the car. "Why?"

"You're due at work on Tuesday."

"And, I'll be going," she said.

"You won't be." He walked toward the driveway. "I'll have something else for you to do to earn money."

"Curley." Her throat tightened. "It's not only me. I won't disappoint my friends. Not having a job is devastating to all of us. Stephanie's a single mom. She needs the money to raise her child. Don't mess this up for me, for us."

He refrained from commenting. His stubbornness would be the death of her.

His cheek twitched, and before she could figure out what he was thinking, he leaned forward and pressed his lips to her forehead. Holding his mouth on her, he inhaled deeply before pulling back. "Drive safely."

Her heart rate fluttered. He'd left her trembling. Why would he kiss her when he acted as if she was a burden?

She opened the car door. "I'll tell Uncle Walker you said hi."

"Don't bring me up to him, Faye." He walked out of the garage and got on his bike.

She slid into the driver's seat and watched him in the rearview mirror. Uncle Walker wouldn't talk about Curley. Curley wouldn't see her uncle. She was starting to think every Tarkio Motorcycle Club member was insane.