“You’d be surprised,” I laughed.
“You were spying on me. I don’t know why you insist on lying all the fucking time,” I huffed, shoving Shark.
He stumbled, the weight of all the bags knocking him off balance, and then shoved me back, smacking me with one of the heavier bags.
“I was following orders. That isnotspying!”
“If the order was ‘follow Rachel and keep tabs on her’, it absolutelywasspying, and you’re in denial!”
“It’s a job.”
“Yeah, and detectives also have a job to do. Doesn’t mean they’re not spying either!”
He rolled his eyes at me and refused to engage any further. As far as I was concerned, that made me the winner.
We had spent a lovely morning together, but it was inevitable we would start bickering about this. Jenna said we were a pain in her ass because it happened anytime we were together. And I don’t care that it happened years ago. It was definitely spying, and he knew it.
Shark had been a good sport today, though, and it was nice to spend time with him. He had let me go to any shop I wanted, hadn’t huffed and puffed about visiting a dozen different places, had offered to carry all the bags, and was just completely different from how Dante would have reacted.
It said a lot about me that I was currently trying to draw him into an argument based on something that had happened years ago, rather than just enjoying the peace, but to acknowledge that would mean addressing that I actually enjoyed the drama, and I was too stubborn to do that.
“You realise my name is Shark, right? Which means I’m good at the hunt. If I was stalking you, you wouldn’t see me coming.”
I burst out laughing and then scoffed at him. “You’re called Shark because you make a decent charcuterie board, you fucking imbecile. And maybe because you like dining out during shark week. I haven’t quite got Jenna to confess that one yet, though.”
“What the fuck does that mean? Dining out during shark week?” He asked, stopping dead still in the middle of the busy shopping centre. I grinned at him and patted him on the cheek.
“Think it over,” I giggled, walking out of the doors and into the open air. I took a quick glance over my shoulder and saw him still stood still, a confused frown on his face.
I gave him a mischievous smirk and then brought my two fingers to my mouth and slipped my tongue between them. His eyes widened in realisation, and a furious blush flew over his cheeks before he came running over to me with a look of horror on his face that was almost adorable.
“Rachel!” He half hissed, half whispered. “You can’t just talk about shit like that in the middle of the street!”
“What?” I asked innocently. “You show me the law that says I can’t ask a man if he eats his old lady’s pussy whilst she’s on her period. Show me.”
“Stop!” His cheeks were burning bright red, and he tried shrinking down inside his cut, as though no one would be able to see the 6ft, tattooed, angry looking biker he really was.
“Let’s ask some people, shall we?” I said, scanning the crowd. My eyes narrowed when I thought I saw men dressed in what looked suspiciously like cuts—cuts that did not belong to the Devil’s. But they turned down one of the streets in front of us before I could get a proper look at them.
It wasn’t against any rules for them to be here. This was technically the Devil’s patch, but other clubs were welcome here so long as they kept the peace. I focused back on the crowdand shot Shark a wicked grin when I noticed a gang of women heading towards us.
“Rachel, I’m begging you. Do not ask—”
“Excuse me!” I called to one of the older looking women, jogging over to her. “Me and my associate are running a survey, and we were wondering if you wouldn’t mind answering some questions?”
“Yes,” one of the women said instantly, looking Shark up and down and practically licking her lips. “Yes, he can have my number.”
“He’s been castrated for being a serial cheater. He’ll be no good to you,” I replied, keeping my tone light and cheerful.
“Rachel!” He hissed, burning redder than ever.
“Oh, I think he’ll have more than one use. Look at those lips!” She was drooling at this point, and Shark looked unbelievably uncomfortable.
“That’s actually perfect, because I wanted to ask if you thought it was appropriate to talk about dining out during shark week, if you get my meaning? My friend here seems to be a bit of a prude.”
A few of the women laughed, the rest looked slightly embarrassed. But none of them said no, and I shot a victory look in Shark’s direction.
“Honey, if the day ends in Y, I’m not saying no. He can take me anywhere, anytime, any day… I’m game if you are.”
