“Hey,” Butch greeted me, surprising me by getting up to pull out a chair for me at his side.
I took a seat, setting the things in my hand on the table.
“What have you got there?” Butch asked, nodding to the plate.
“I made brownies and thought you might like to try them.”
“They look amazing,” he said, pulling the plastic wrap off the top.
“Don’t tell me you’re going to eat that in front of me,” the other man at the table said. His eyes shifted to me and he flashed a smile. “I’m Blade, by the way.”
“Sabrina,” I introduced myself. “And please, go ahead and try one. Anyone can.”
“Sweet,” Blade said, grabbing one off the plate before Butch got the chance. He glared at Blade.
“Shouldn’t you go get your own woman to bake for you?”
Did he just insinuate that I was his woman?
“Kat?” Blade chuckled. “Please.She’s a woman of many talents, but baking isn’t one of them. In fact, I’ll take one for her too.”
He grabbed another brownie, pulling back just in time to avoid Butch’s attempt at batting his hands away.
“Get out of here, you vulture,” he said, but there was no real venom in his voice. I could sense a kind of camaraderie between the men that ran deeper than friendship. Maybe that was a part of belonging to a motorcycle club like this. It forged a deeper bond.
Blade chuckled and got up from the table with his brownies in hand. “I’m going, but only because I promised Kat I’d help her babysit her nephew.”
Butch made a whipping sound, and Blade flipped him off on his way out the door. Butch grabbed a brownie off the plate and took a big bite, his eye rolling to the back of his head.
“Holy shit. You made these?”
I bit my lip but couldn’t hide a broad smile. “Yeah, it’s my new recipe, and I needed someone to test them out.”
“These are awesome.”
“Really?” I asked as he polished off the fudgy brownie.
“Hell, yeah,” he said, grabbing another one off the plate. “I’ll be your guinea pig anytime.”
“Good to know. Should we get started?”
“Sure thing.”
I opened my computer bag, pulling out my laptop.
“I put the notes from our last meeting on here, and this”—I pulled up a street map of La Playa that I had downloaded—“is a map that I thought we could use to plan out the ride.”
I had already used my photo editing software to mark the Blue Dog and the soup kitchen. Butch pointed to a point on the map.
“That’s Black Satin. It should be a stop too.”
I moved my cursor to mark the spot, even though I had an inexplicable lump in my throat. I didn’t like to think about Butch working at a strip club, surrounded by beautiful women that were probably much more sexual than I was.
Had he ever slept with any of them?
“Okay, that leaves two stops,” I said, hoping that I was successfully hiding the jealousy clawing at me. “Any ideas?”
“The poker hand is a fun theme, and the prize at the end is a good incentive, but bikers are really going to sign up for the ride.”
