Rock Chick Revolution (Rock Chick #8)(38)
Author: Kristen Ashley

Apparently it wasn’t, and this was proved when Roxie asked, “Do you actually think that’s going to work?”

Ren said nothing, but he leveled his gaze on Roxie.

Roxie pressed her lips together and gave big eyes to Stella. Stella bit her bottom lip, but that didn’t mean both her lips weren’t curled up in a big way.

So maybe I was wrong. It was going to work because no one else said a word.

Maybe that macho alpha gig wasn’t such a bad thing. At least it was good to know it had its uses.

Or it had its uses until Smithie spoke up.

Smithie, by the way, owned a strip club. Jet worked there as a waitress during her drama. Jet’s sister was currently the headliner there as a stripper. He was a big black guy gone slightly soft. And strip club owner or not, there was nothing “slightly” about his soft heart.

He was also a nut. Then again, the Rock Chicks, as a collection of nuts, collected their own.

“Are you sayin’ her apartment just exploded not two hours ago and you two are goin’ on a date?” he asked, brows raised, eyes big.

“That’s what I’m saying,” Ren confirmed, then muttered, “We’re done here.” And he made that statement true by dragging me through the Rock Chicks and out the door.

But as I went, I locked eyes with Indy and mouthed, Are we cool?

She just watched me go and gave me nothing.

* * * * *

In Ren’s bathroom, I spritzed with perfume, set it aside and looked at myself in the mirror.

After the Rock Chick Confrontation, I’d spoken with the police in reception at Lee’s office for five minutes, giving them my semi-statement, which was only semi seeing as I had no involvement in the activities, outside my apartment exploding, so I had nothing to give them that The Kevster hadn’t already provided.

Then Ren had guided me to his Jag and we left.

He took me straight to Cherry Creek Mall, valet parked (total class) then dragged me to Nordstrom’s. There, he found a comfortable chair, pulled out his credit card and handed it to me.

“You got an hour. Use it wisely,” he ordered.

I knew what his wisely meant. I couldn’t help but know. My apartment exploded, the only clothes I owned I was wearing. We were going out on our first date, he considered my dresses foreplay, and we were at a mall.

I just didn’t know what the credit card meant.

“Zano, my purse didn’t explode with my pad. I had it with me, and just saying,” I pointed to it on my shoulder, “I still do.”

Ren ignored this and replied, “Text me when you decide on something to tell me where it is. Give them the card so they can ring it up. I’ll go and sign.”

This didn’t address my remark.

“What I’m saying is, I have my own money,” I told him.

“Ally, we’re not arguing about this,” he told me.

I was trying to be confused and not pissed, though, in truth, I was both.

In order to acquire the information needed not to be confused, or pissed, I asked, “Are you saying my emergency provision purchases are on you?”

He looked at the card I was holding aloft and then at me.

However, he didn’t verbalize his answer.

That was still an answer.

So now no confusion and I was stuck with trying not to get pissed.

I pushed the card his way. “I’ve got it.”

“And I said we’re not arguing about this.”

“Zano, I make my own money.”

To this, he asked strangely, “Was it you sittin’ in that booth with me, beer, bourbon and the Bears?”

“Yes,” I answered the obvious.

“And was it you cryin’ in my arms over Sadie?”

“Yes, Zano, but—”

“And was it you who opened my Christmas present na**d in my bed on Christmas morning?”

I narrowed my eyes on him. “Where is this leading?”

He didn’t answer my question or wait for an answer to his. He kept up his bizarre interrogation.

“And was it you who told me you loved me in a motel room this morning?”

I crossed my arms on my chest. “You know it was.”

“And who were you with all those times?” he asked.

“Zano. You!” I snapped. “What’s the deal?”

“And do you know me?” he pushed, and I sucked in breath.

I knew him.

And I got him.

He knew I got him and this was why he said, “You know what you signed on for, babe. Now take my card, buy what you need and text me to sign for it so we can get outta this f**kin’ place.”

I had to admit, his desire to exit the mall without delay was a surprise. Ren dressed really well. Although it would be a hit to his alpha badass to be comfortable in a mall, the results of said comfort couldn’t be argued.

Still, I found it interesting he clearly had an aversion to the mall.

This made me wonder where he got his clothes.

“Ally?” he prompted, and I focused on him.

Seeing as we were together together, I loved him, he loved me, I decided in that moment to try new conversational gambits that might result in actually conversing and not fighting.

Therefore, quietly, I pointed out, “You know what you signed on for, too.”

“Yeah,” he agreed instantly. “I also know my woman’s apartment exploded. So I want to get her across from me at a nice dinner with booze so she can relax. Then I want her at home with me in my bed so I can make her really relax.”

I was down with both of those.

Ren kept going.

“And she’s facing a variety of shit, including a lot of shopping, which is going to cost a whack and take a lot of time. You can do that. I want no part of that. I’m doin’ this. And I want this done quickly. But I also want you to have something nice that makes you feel good that’s from me so that makes it special, so you can have something special on a very special day that, unfortunately, included your apartment exploding. Not something you like that you can afford that’ll do. So, go, enjoy and,” he leaned in, “text me when I gotta sign something.”

Oh my God.

That was really nice.

As in, really.

“You could have explained it like that,” I shared.

“I just did.”

He did. Though belatedly.

In order to keep conversing and not fighting, I didn’t point out the belatedly part.

Instead, I informed him, “You’re freaking me out.”

His brows shot together.

“Why?” he asked.