“It’s gotta be about dinner time. You feel like going downstairs and eating with everyone?” I asked.
Her eyes popped open. “I don’t think I’m ready to people yet.”
Her answer was expected, but I didn’t like it. She needed to be around the others, but I wouldn’t push her. At least, not today. Baby steps. Releasing her, I rolled over and climbed out of bed. “I get it. I’ll bring us up food.”
“Don’t feel like you have to eat up here with me. I don’t want to pull you away from your club dinners.”
I scanned the floor for my clothes. “Havoc doesn’t put out like you do.”
She laughed. “You are out of control, Stocks.”
Finding my boxers and jeans, I tugged them on. “You weren’t complaining a while ago.”
“I know. We should probably start off all our encounters with your face between my legs. It makes me way more agreeable.”
“Deal. But after we refuel and hydrate. I can’t have you passing out from hunger or thirst before I properly get off.” I finished dressing before rounding the bed to try and kiss her.
She dodged my advances. “No. No sugar for you. Not after that comment.”
“I meant before I properly getyouoff, since that’s all that’s important.”
“Better.” She puckered her lips, and I went in for the kill, squeezing her tits for my trouble.
She swatted me away and I headed downstairs to grab food.
The club was seated around the giant dining room tables when I entered, but thankfully Naomi and Eagle weren’t there. Relieved I wouldn’t have to face an interrogation from the club princess, I said my hellos, bumping fists and swapping nods where necessary, before heading into the kitchen. Someone had made raviolis and a green salad. I filled two plates, grabbed a couple of waters, silverware, and napkins, and headed back into the dining room.
Since I wasn’t exactly known for having company, I expected to take some flack from my brothers over my extra plate, but nobody said shit as I walked by. That probably had something to do with Havoc sitting at the table. He’d had my back since the day I met him, but after I took a bullet in the stomach while I was guarding his woman… well, nobody fucked with me. Ever. He gave me a nod on my way out the door, draping his arm across the shoulders of his pregnant wife.
After Monica and I ate, we tackled her storage space issue. Putting our heads together, we tossed around ideas until finally settling on separating her wardrobe by seasons. The month of May had been wet, but warm, so we packed all her fall and winter clothes into suitcases and hid them under her bed. Empty suitcases were stacked on top of her closet, and we lined as many shoes as possible on the floor of her closet. The rest, we sorted into rows beside the winter clothes suitcases under her bed.
Her dresser and closet were stuffed so full she couldn’t possibly fit another stitch of clothing anywhere, but we’d gotten it all put away. The space was still cramped, but at least now she could get around and find everything until we came up with a more permanent solution.
We were so proud of our progress that I retrieved us each a beer, and we spent the rest of the evening in my room, watching television, napping, and fucking.
First thing Monday morning, Monica called and made an appointment with my prosthetist, giving me hope that she was making progress. Even more encouraging was the fact she agreed to let me go with her. Later that day, we walked down the street to a salon to get her hair professionally braided, and I’m not going to lie, I watched and took mental notes. If she ever needed me to fix her hair again, I’d be all over it.
With Monica taken care of, we came back to the station and focused on my current problem, scanning help wanted ads and using last week’s paper to cross off the positions I’d already applied for. Over the next two days I filled out several applications and even had a phone interview, but still no job offer.
Some mornings Monica didn’t want to get out of bed. Some mornings, I wanted to sleep the day away alongside her. But somehow, we kept going. It was easier to slug through, knowing that if I quit, she would, too.
I didn’t want her to quit.
Wednesday night, we joined the club for dinner for the first time. The rest of the week passed in a blur of job applications, club dinners, physical therapy appointments, and nights of fucking. By the following Monday morning, Monica was ready to join us for our first club event since she’d arrived, and I was over the fucking moon to know she’d be riding on the back of my bike.
Monica
“SO, WHAT’S THE plan?” I asked Stocks who was acting entirely too evasive about the agenda for today’s club activity. We were standing beside his bike, surrounded by at least fifty other bikers, all of whom wore jeans, boots, and leather vests decorated with various patches. I was coming to realize that this was their uniform. The tattoos and beards seemed optional, but most of the bikers sported them, giving the group a rugged edge.
Emily, Naomi, Carly, Sasha, and Jessica were also in attendance and ready to ride out, each one standing beside her man. The kids were playing in the common area and would be staying at the club with Naomi’s stepmom and a few of the older wives.
Stocks handed me a helmet. “Memorial Day tradition. I’d tell you, but I don’t wanna ruin the surprise.”
I looked to Naomi, but she shrugged like she was in the dark, too. Like she hadn’t grown up in this goddamn club. Not buying her ignorance for a second, I glared at her, but she met my glare and smiled sweetly.
As if anything about my best bitch was sweet.
I flipped her off and she laughed and blew me a kiss.
