Chapter Seventeen

Mariah walked out of the bathroom, wearing a pair of denim shorts and a black lace tank she borrowed from Skye. "I'll be fine as long as I don't bend over."

"It can't be that bad." Skye twirled her finger in the air. "Let me see."

Mariah leaned over. The tank gaped, showing her breasts.

Skye laughed. "Honestly, the one you had on earlier showed more. This one does it in a sexier way."

"That's what I'm going for. Pure, raw, uncontrollable sex." Mariah patted her chest, pressing the material to her skin.

She sat on the couch and put her bare feet on the cushion. "So, where are you and Brett going?"

"To his place."

She felt guilty. Because she had no plans for the night, Mariah had to go to Brett's house for privacy.

"I could go over to my parents and—"

"Stop." Mariah opened the closet by the front door. "I want to go to Brett's place. It allows me to get to know him better and snoop around." She looked over her shoulder and smiled. "There's no tampons in the bathroom and no extra toothbrush. It's a good sign. "

"Don't get caught being nosey." She sobered. "Take a chance and trust him."

"Should I wear this jacket?" Mariah held up two options. "Or this one?"

"Is he picking you up?" she asked.

There was no reason to wear a jacket. The weather was perfect unless Brett was taking her on the motorcycle.

"Yeah." Mariah frowned. "Neither one of these goes with shorts."

"Well, you shouldn't be wearing shorts when you ride." She got up from the couch and walked back to her bedroom. "Hang on a second."

In her room, she grabbed a leather coat and boots that reached her thighs. She returned to Mariah and pushed the clothing articles into her hands.

"I'm not going to be responsible for any injuries to your skin." She put her hands on her hips. "Brett should know better than to—"

The doorbell rang.

Skye stepped over and looked out the window, seeing Brett standing on the walkway. A boost of confidence filled her, seeing the bag he held.

"Quick. Throw my clothes in the closet," she whispered.

"What?" Mariah frowned. "Why?"

She shooed her. "Just do it."

"Wear this. Wear that." Mariah ditched the clothes and shut the closet door. "I don't know what has gotten into you lately."

Skye grinned before she opened the door. "Hey, come on in."

Brett ducked his chin. "Thanks. "

Mariah exhaled and forced a smile. "Sorry, I'm running late."

"I'll wait." Brett handed her a bag. "I got you something."

"Really?" Mariah's face glowed, and she looked into the bag.

Skye hugged herself, happy for her friend. She was finally getting treated with the love and respect she deserved.

Brett glanced at Skye. She nodded her approval. Havlin men were protective of those they cared about. She wasn't surprised that he'd bought Mariah a leather jacket and a pair of leather chaps to wear.

At a loss of what to do, Mariah stood still while Brett outfitted her. As much as she enjoyed watching them, she wanted to give them space. This was a big moment. A Havlin member wouldn't put just anyone on the back of their bike or buy leather for a ride.

"Have fun, guys." She waved over her shoulder and went straight to the bedroom.

Shutting the door, she flopped on the bed. After getting over her shock of learning about their relationship, she was Mariah's biggest cheerleader. She wanted nothing but the best for her friend.

But seeing them together only manifested the frustration she had with Dio. Something was going on with him, or she'd pushed him too far. Dio wasn't a man who would want a woman telling him how to feel—if that was even possible.

She wouldn't beg him to love her. That's not what she wanted .

In her dad's own way, he'd told her to back off. Aunt Brooke had said the same.

She knew they were right as much as it bothered her to stay away from him. If Dio wanted her, it was up to him to do something about it.

The thought of him loving her because she'd swayed his feelings sat more wrong with her as each day passed. The last thing she wanted was charity love.

She turned on her laptop and streamed the latest episode of The Housewives of Orange County because they were the exact opposite of real life.

After the hour passed, she entered the kitchen and dished up a bowl of ice cream. She wasn't going to sleep anytime soon. Mariah would probably spend the night at Brett's house, and while it usually never bothered her to stay alone, her depressing mood was lonely company.

She whipped the spoon through the ice cream, making it smooth and soft. Just the way she liked it.

In the other room, her phone dinged. She walked into the bedroom and read the text from her dad.

Stay put. Dio's coming to get you. Be ready to ride.

The hair on the back of her neck prickled. There was only one reason for Dio to come and get her and for her to get on the motorcycle with him. There was trouble surrounding the club.

She moved to go to her room and remembered that Mariah had shoved her leathers in the front closet. She grabbed everything and entered her room, finding a pair of jeans. Once outfitted to ride, she scribbled a note to Mariah, letting her know where she would be if she came home and found the apartment empty.

Then, she ripped the message in little pieces, thinking it was better not to give her location away. She didn't want to put Mariah in danger.

A rumble filled the silence. She grabbed her go-bag, which she always had ready with extra clothes, and slid her laptop and phone in.

A knock at the door sent her hurrying across the room to the window. She peeked outside. Dio held up his hand.

She unlocked the door. He stepped inside.

"Ready?" He eyed her up and down.

"Yeah." She put the pack on her back. "What's going on?"

"Everyone is meeting at the clubhouse." He picked her helmet off the floor and opened the door. "Stay with me. Everything will be okay."

"Someone needs to get Aunt Brooke."

"Maverick should be at the house now." Dio hustled down the steps to the ground floor of the apartments.

Relief that her parents would be there, she took her helmet from him and fastened the strap.

Dio straddled the bike. Using the peg, she climbed behind him. Unlike her dad's bike, which had a sissy bar for when Aunt Brooke rode with him, Dio's Harley had no support. She hugged his back and pressed her inner thighs around his hips.

He started the engine, raised the kickstand, and rolled away from the curb. If she weren't concerned about the club's future, she would've enjoyed the closeness she had with Dio.