“Does it involve black lace? Or red silk?” I asked.
She swatted my shoulder playfully.
“No. That’s for your birthday.”
“Honeybee, I’m not a patient man. My birthday is months away. Don’t make me wait that long to see you in something tiny and strappy that I can rip off with my teeth.”
A pleased blush colored her cheeks. She shifted on the stool, crossing one leg over the other. I couldn’t help noticing she was wearing another mini skirt. This one was snug and black. I hoped to God I would be getting under it within the hour.
“Stop distracting me. I’m trying to do something nice and you’re messing up my plans.”
I gestured for her to go on. She nodded and reached into her coat pocket, pulling out an envelope. Placing it on the counter, she slid it over to me. I cast a questioning look at her.
“Open it,” she said.
Picking up the envelope, I looked inside to find an MC patch that simply read,Member.
“I talked to your President,” Ruby went on. “He’s more than ready to have you back. But I told him that you probablywouldn’t want too much responsibility right away. Since you’ll be settling into your new life with me.”
“Ruby, I—”
I broke off. For as long as I could remember, I’d been the bad kid. The biker with a rap sheet, scarred knuckles, blood on his hands for the sake of defending his club and his brothers. I wasn’t like her father—a good, patient, upstanding man who believed in doing the right thing at all costs.
I did things I wasn’t proud of. I did things that landed me in jail.
But for Ruby, I wanted to do better. Did I need to leave my MC life behind in order to do that? Or could I strike a balance?
“I want you, Dean,” she said softly. Wrapping her hands around my arm. “My biker. My Titan. I want everything that came before. And I want everything that comes in the future. With you.”
I picked up the member patch, running my thumb along the edges. Shrugging out of my cut, I folded it up and placed it on the counter in front of her.
“If a biker is single, he stitches his patch on with his own two hands. If a biker has a woman, his Old Lady sews that patch on for him. It’s a point of pride and an honor. And those stitches are said to protect him, keep him safe, strengthened by her love so he can get home to her."
Ruby’s eyes brightened. She picked up my cut and hugged it to her chest.
“I’d be happy to do it.”
“Prospect,” I barked.
A kid about Ruby’s age came scrambling out of nowhere.
“Yes, sir?”
“Get my Old Lady a needle and thread. Move your ass and make it quick.”
“Yes, sir!”
The night flew by in a blur of drinking, games, laughter, and stories. Barrett and Sharon showed up for a few beers. Dash and Sierra cuddled at a table, necking like teenagers.
When Ruby was finished stitching my patch, she slid my cut onto my shoulders. I turned to face her.
“How do I look?”
She beamed, sliding her arms around my waist.
“Like the badass biker who will utterly ruin me when we get home.”
I huffed with amusement.
