Cox and Kami were opposite them, Cox sitting on top of the counter, Kami standing between his legs, both drinking beers.

“Yo,” he said, giving a halfhearted wave.

Cox nodded his way, Kami gave him a wave and a smile, but it was Eva who pulled away from Deuce and came at him with her arms wide open. As he folded his arms around her, he locked eyes over her shoulder with his father who, instead of saying hello, grunted something incoherent and turned back to Cox.

Ass. Hole.

“What’s little Kelley doin’ here?” he asked, referring to Christopher.

“Hawk’s on his way,” Eva said as she pulled away from him and gave him another genuine smile. Reaching up, she tugged on a lock of his hair that had pulled free of his rubber band.

“God,” she whispered, her big gray eyes sparkling. “You look just like your dad when he was your age.”

He started to smile at her despite her comparing him to his old man, because, fuck, how could you not smile at someone who loved as hard as this woman did?

“He looks like his fuckin’ mother.”

Cage lost his smile.

His mother might be a club rat turned deadbeat and she might love drinking more than she loved her own kids, but she was still his mother, and half of what had happened to her had been his old man’s fault in the first place.

“Ignore him,” Eva whispered. “And go say hi to your sisters.”

“Speaking of, where’s the brat?” he asked, referring to Danny.

Eva smiled and pointed upstairs.

Looping back around, Cage headed for the stairs, taking them two at a time until he was standing outside his sister’s old bedroom. Without bothering to knock, he turned the knob and pushed open the door.

“Jesus fuck!” he yelled, slamming the door closed.

“Knock much?” Danny screamed from inside her room, where he’d just seen her naked, on her knees, getting nailed by her husband.

Fucking hell.

It wasn’t the first time he’d accidentally walked in on them, either. Those two idiots couldn’t keep their hands off each other. Bathrooms, bedrooms, kitchen pantries, didn’t matter where they were. Their home, someone else’s home, the clubhouse, a restaurant, the two of them were always all up in each other’s shit, all the motherfucking time.

The door flew open and Danny, looking disheveled but thankfully clothed, stormed into the hallway. “What the fuck!” she yelled.

He rolled his eyes. “Was comin’ in to say hi, you fuckin’ brat.”

The corner of her mouth curved and a dimple appeared. The next thing he knew she was lunging, wrapping her arms around him and squeezing.

“Get the fuck off me!” he bellowed, shoving her backward into Ripper’s arms, who was also now thankfully clothed. “You fuckin’ smell like Ripper,” he said, feigning disgust.

Ripper, laughing, swung one of his arms around Danny and held out his fist. Cage eyed it warily before fist-bumping him quickly.

“Don’t know where that shit has been,” he said.

“Fuck off,” Ripper said. “You just get back?”

“Yeah.”

“How’d that shit go down?”

“Wham bam,” Cage told him. “In and out. Spent the night at Preacher’s, shot the shit with the Demons for a few, did what I had to do, then took the scenic route home.”

“Nice,” Ripper said. “Prez’ll be happy.”

Yeah right, he thought, scoffing internally. Prez, his never-happy-with-him father, was just that. Never happy with him.

Behind him, two doors down, Cage heard the toilet flush from inside the bathroom. The faucet turned on, then off, then—

The door swung open and all heads swiveled just in time to see Tegen walk out into the hall, wiping her wet hands off on her long white linen skirt.

Glancing up, her cat-like green eyes locked on him and she froze midstep. He was about to say hello when suddenly her small, slightly pointed nose wrinkled up and her mouth flattened with obvious disgust.

“By the way,” Danny said cheekily. “Tegen’s here.”

Cage felt his already pissed-off mood worsen because, Jesus Christ, every time he saw the bitch, it was more than obvious she still had a stick up her ass about what had happened one drunken night, seemingly forever ago. A night he didn’t even remember.

Holding his throbbing head, Cage gingerly rolled from his side onto his back and cracked an eyelid to check out the warm body he felt lying beside him.

The first thing he saw was a big mess of orange-red frizzy hair, and being that his brain was bogged down with the aftereffects of too much whiskey, it took him a moment to process where he knew that hair from. When he did, when he knew exactly who that hair belonged to, he shot up into a sitting position, cursing when his head vehemently protested the movement.

Maybe it wasn’t her. Maybe someone else in Miles City had ridiculously frizzy carrot-colored hair, a stick for a body, and freckles everywhere. Feeling sick, he glanced over his shoulder. Jesus fucking shit, motherfucker, fuck his life and everything in it.

God, what the fuck was wrong with him?

Worse, he didn’t even remember doing it. A sliver of hope lit inside of him. Maybe he didn’t fuck her? But then why was she naked? Still gripping his throbbing skull, he turned away from her and dropped his head.

Then his jaw dropped.

No.

His leathers were still on but his goddamn dick was hanging out covered in a light sheen of dried blood. Great. He’d taken her virginity. Worse yet, he didn’t even remember doing it.

That had been one of the worst mornings of his life. Actually, the entire day had sucked balls.

Not knowing what to do, he hightailed it into the shower, hoping she’d wake up and get the fuck out of his room before he got out.

No dice.

She was still there, in his bed, still naked but now awake and covering herself with his sheet, holding his cell phone in her hand. “It wouldn’t stop ringing,” she said softly, unable to look him in the eye, her pale skin flushing. “So I answered it.”

He stared down at her, not really paying attention to what she was saying, trying to figure out what the fuck he was going to do with her. Seriously, what the fuck was he supposed to do with some awkward, dorky, titless teenager?

“Uh, listen, Teacup,” he said, shifting uncomfortably as he reached up and began rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m not really sure what the fuck to say here, but last night… Are you okay? Does, uh, did you…” He trailed off, not knowing what the fuck he’d been trying to say in the first place and feeling like a jackass.

“I’m fine,” she whispered. “I’m glad it was you.”

He continued staring at her, his mind blank.

“It was Ellie who called,” she continued softly.

Ellie? Why the fuck would Ellie call him?

“She, um, she’s really upset…” Tegen hesitated. “She said Danny is, uh, on her way to an abortion clinic.”

What? Danny. Abortion clinic? Cage snapped the fuck out of it. His little sister had gotten herself into trouble and he needed to find her. Right. Now. Everything else, everyone else could go fuck themselves.

“I gotta go,” he said hurriedly, glancing around for his clothing. He zeroed in on his leathers and snatched them off the ground. When he was fully dressed, he crossed the room and grabbed hold of the doorknob. Then he paused and glanced over his shoulder.

“Don’t say anything to anyone,” he demanded.

Tegen’s green eyes went wide and she shook her head. “I won’t,” she said. “I promise.”

Nodding, he pulled open the door.

“Cage?”

Stopping, he glanced back again. “What?” he asked impatiently.

She hesitated, her skin flushing fiercely as she peeked up at him through her eyelashes.

“I love you,” she whispered.

Cage froze.

Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck.

No. Just…no.

“Shit,” he muttered, suddenly unable to look at her. How the fuck had this happened? He seriously needed to stop drinking so much.

“Listen,” he continued slowly. “I don’t know what the fuck you’re thinkin’ but…it just ain’t like that for me, baby.”

He glanced up, saw the surprise on her face, saw the hurt, saw it all.

Then he got the fuck out of there.

He’d spent the rest of the day dealing with his little sister’s mess. Or rather, Ripper’s mess, and hadn’t given much thought to Tegen or what had happened until enough time had passed and he started realizing that not only was she not speaking to him, she wasn’t looking at him. In fact, she acted like he didn’t even exist.

He hadn’t exactly cared at the time unless he was confronted with it. When he’d find her scowling at him instead of smiling, refusing to speak to him, refusing to speak to anyone.

Watching from a distance as she grew angrier, bitter, and eventually just outright mean.

Then she’d left for college and hadn’t come home for any holidays. In fact, she didn’t come home again until her mother had been shot.

He’d taken one look at her, her new look, and he hadn’t seen the dorky little girl he used to tease incessantly anymore, but a woman, a beautiful woman.

A beautiful woman who wanted nothing to do with him. And maybe that’s what bothered him the most. Tegen was a beautiful woman who’d once acted as if the sun rose and set with him, who’d told him she loved him, yet who now wanted nothing to do with him.

And every time he saw her, it felt like she was slapping on yet another layer of attitude, each visit home worse than the last.

One thing he knew for certain was the woman had one damn long memory and could hold a grudge like a motherfucker. And unfortunately for him, the more time that passed, the more beautiful she seemed to grow. Her extremely slender figure no longer seemed stick-like but naturally lithe, like a ballet dancer. And her breasts, while still very small, had a more rounded fullness to them. His eyes raked over her long copper dreadlocks, the quarter-inch plugs in her earlobes, her slim neck, and the colorful flower tattoos across her chest. Her bare arms were also covered in ink from shoulder to wrist, and the inch of exposed concave stomach between her tank top and skirt, also inked. More so than the last time he’d seen her.

Jesus, the girl had more ink on her now than he had, nearly as much as Cox who, aside from his face, was tattooed from head to toe.

And it was…hot. Cage found his body responding to his thoughts; not physical stimulation, just his goddamn thoughts, something that only happened around Tegen and her goddamn attitude.

Still glaring at him, she flung her long dreads over her shoulders with a flick of her wrists and cocked a bony hip. His fists clenched, readying himself for whatever mud she was going to fling at him. He was not in the mood for this shit. He’d barely been off the road five seconds and now this?

“No one told me that motherfucker was going to be here,” she hissed.

Behind him Ripper snorted and Danny sighed.

Cage’s jaw locked. His eyes darted to the right of Tegen and he quickly calculated how much time he had to grab her, throw her inside his old room, and fuck that attitude straight out of her before anyone tried to stop him.

“We’ll be downstairs,” he heard Danny say and he could hear the damn laughter in her voice.

“But I wanna hear all the fucked-up shit Tegen’s gonna say to him,” Ripper said, laughing.

“Don’t hold your breath,” Tegen snapped, her eyes never once leaving Cage. “I have nothing to say to Deuce Junior.”

His nostrils flared. No bitch ever talked to him the way she did. In fact no one, other than his father, had ever treated him the way she did; he didn’t allow it, would have them eating fist before they got a second insult out. Except Tegen. When she mouthed off, the bitch always had him either tongue-tied or hard as a rock or both.

Like right now.

Tegen smirked at him. “Aw, what’s wrong, West? Did I bruise that inflated ego of yours? Little old me? Just one of your millions?”

“Fuck you,” he snarled.

Still smirking, she rolled her eyes. “No, thank you. Sorry, Cage, been there, done you, don’t care to be a repeat offender.”

“Damn,” Ripper said. “That was a good one.”