Binding Ties

Chapter Nine

Sophie started as Clarke pulled up outside a small bungalow that was almost in the middle of nowhere – picnic tables and garden swings on the large expanse of grass, hanging baskets with ferns and plants that draped around the front porch.

Where the hell where they now?

Quizzically, she looked over to Clarke – who’d been silent and withdrawn all morning. She’d taken one look at his guilt ridden features, and just decided not to say a word. She was fighting the need to go to him – to be drawn up into his strong arms, and held, like he’d done before – but she’d fucked that up by throwing herself at him shamelessly. She knew she’d disgusted him, behaving like that, so she forced herself to keep her hands in the pockets to the brand new jeans he’d packed up for her. God, it felt good to wear clean clothes – even if they weren’t hers.

“Nate’s place,” he grunted, dragging the holdalls out of the boot as the front door opened.

Nate Casey stood in the doorway watching them silently – a welcoming half smile on his handsome face. She’d once thought that she could maybe fall for Nate – he was strong, and undoubtedly sexy with those dark tattooed patterns spanning his thick biceps. He’d also been caring though, softer somehow than his partner – his grey eyes not so ruthless and intimidating when they set on you. But he’d never dallied at the club, so they’d assumed he was maybe gay, and liked to keep his private life separate – especially when he never showed any interest in the countless hoards of beautiful women that threw themselves at him.

Until that woman had arrived a few months back – and one look at his possessive display – the orders that security were given with regards to the mostly harmless, if not a little presumptuous, little prick that had set his hands on the beautiful dark-haired girl – they all knew exactly why he’d never fallen captive to any of them. He had a woman already – beautiful, elegant, and broken – but undoubtedly his.

“Soph,” he smiled over at her, gesturing into the house with a jerk of his head, “Come meet Shannon.”

She followed him into an open plan kitchen where Shannon was looking vaguely harassed with all of the open bridal magazines spread out in front of her on the dining table.

“Sorry,” she said sheepishly, rising up to shake Sophie’s hand primly, and offer her a cup of tea or coffee.

Who shook hands anymore? Sophie thought to herself abstractedly, as she took a seat at the table, sort of stunned by the almost nervous welcome she’d received from the other woman.

“Just sweep those aside,” Shannon called over the island counter, “Nate keeps plonking me down in front of them on a daily basis – they don’t make any more sense to me than they did yesterday!”

“That’s because you’re not moving fast enough, woman,” he was growling quietly as he snaked his arms around her waist and kissing the side of her neck lovingly, “I just want my wife, and you keep stalling over something so non-essential as fabric for the dresses!”

“Non-essential?” she chuckled back at him quietly, “I’m a fashion designer – did you just insult my entire livelihood?”