Tank: Devil's Rose MC #6

Chapter 3: Hazel Martinez

Navy jumps out of the car the moment I turn it off, her feet pounding against the concrete driveway as she sprints to her front door. She presses the doorbell about twenty times before Whiskey opens the door and sweeps her into his arms.

He gives her kisses all over her face, tickles her belly, and squeezes her tight. Is it weird that I fantasize about having a dad who would want to do that with me? Like, love me like that? I swear my dad was a great guy, he wasn't outwardly loving but he didn't have to be - she just looks so fucking happy to be in his arms.

I feel a tight pressure in my chest while he guides her into the house but leaves the front door open and waves at Tank and me. I guess that's our invitation to go inside.

Before I can register what's happening, Tank has grabbed Navy's bags from the backseat of my car, locked my doors, and is walking me to their front door with a hand on my lower back. I halt in the middle of the driveway, shaking my head. I like them, but we aren't this close.

"What are you doing?"

"No fucking way am I going in there."

He tilts his head like a puppy, his eyebrows furrowing.

He looks adorable like that.

"Miss Hazel? What's going on?"

Miss Hazel? He's still calling me Miss Hazel?

"I don't know them, okay? This is their private space. I'm not going to impede on that."

"He waved us inside," Tank states bluntly.

"Yes, I know that but it's just not normal to do that kinda thing," I reply my voice firm.

He holds his hands up in surrender, the loss of his warm touch leaving me cold.

Hazel, what the fuck is wrong with you? You just met this man. You don't even fucking know him.

"If you're truly that uncomfortable, I'll go in and tell them you had a prior engagement."

He's so cute. 'Prior engagement,' what is that? He sounds like he's from the Regency Era or something. Maybe he's watching too much Bridgerton. I get that though, I've already watched all the seasons about four times, so I completely understand.

He's protective too though. It's nice. Without sounding like I've been alone my entire life - which I most certainly haven't been - I'm glad to have someone take my feelings into account. After my past relationship fell apart, I haven't had a handsome man listen to me or try to take care of me. It's appreciated.

"No, I'm okay. Thank you. I'm overthinking it."

"Are you sure?"

He so wants to agree with me about my overthinking. He's better than that though.

"I'm sure," I declare with fake confidence.

Without laying his hand back down near my ass (unfortunately) we enter the house, the front right side of Tank's body slightly pressing into my back. It's as if he wants to make his presence known to me.

Or because of his wide girth we can barely make it through the door together, could be either one, I know which I prefer more...or do I? Both have advantages if you know what I mean, wink wink.

"Evening, Beatrice."

"Tank, how are you doing?" she exclaims, a bright smile spreading across her face when she sees him.

She doesn't let him answer before tugging him into a hug, her pregnant belly pushing into his stomach. That's one of the weirdest feelings ever. Though I want children of my own, pregnant people scare me.