“But I don’t know how to ride, and?—”
Diesel leans in, cups the back of my head, then whispers, “Just enjoy the moment. We’ll worry about the logistics later.”
“I don’t know what to say. It’s . . . I mean, I never . . .” My throat closes with emotion.
“Ohhh, no.” Maxie laughs. “Here she goes with the tears. Next thing, she’ll be hugging everyone.”
And, of course, she’s right. I start off with Diesel, and by the time I’m done, I’ve embarrassed most of the members of both clubs.
I run my hand over the smooth leather saddle. “I can’t believe it’s really mine.”
“Well, believe it.” Diesel wraps his arm around my waist. “And after we go over the basics, I’ll teach you how to ride.”
“As crazy as this guy is,” Blood jerks his thumb at Diesel, “he knows how to handle a bike.”
“This is what you were talking about on the phone before.”
“You heard me?”
“I thought you were breaking up with me. I even called Maxie.” Then I turn to Maxie. “You knew all about this, huh?”
“Yup, but I was sworn to secrecy. Probably the only time I’ve let Diesel tell me what to do.”
They all laugh, and, for the second time that week, I realize I’ve found my people. My tribe. The place I truly belong.
DIESEL
Smoke, Blood, and I congregate around the portable bar in the corner of my living room.
“Well, you’re one of us now.” Blood slaps me on the back.
“What are you talking about? I’ve been a Royal Bastard for over a year.”
“Nah, brother, being a Royal Bastard has nothing to do with it.” Blood and Smoke exchange a smirk. “You’re now a member of the pussy-whipped men attached to the Royal Harlots.”
I screw up my lips. “I don’t think I like the sound of that.”
“Like it or not, it’s what you are.”
“So, you’re telling me you’re both pussy-whipped?”
Smoke and Blood exchange another look. “I don’t think our brother knows the true meaning of being pussy-whipped, so why don’t you explain it to him, VP?”
Blood slings his heavy arm over my shoulders. “Pussy-whipped is when a guy goes along with the little shit and doesn’t bitch.” He waves his hand at our women laughing and toasting Martina’s new Harley with mimosas. “Like this, so later he can have a taste of pussy.”
I take in Blood’s words, then nod.
“Small price to pay for these outstanding women, but don’t get me wrong, if Marisol or Maxie push too hard, we push back, just not about the small shit.”
“Makes sense.” Can’t argue with their logic.
“And it makes for the whole happy wife, happy life thing.”
Marisol saunters over. “I hope you guys aren’t scaring him off getting with aHarlot.”
“Nope.” Smoke tugs Marisol to his side. “Just laying out the facts.”
“I suppose he gave you the whole pussy-whipped talk.” Marisol flicks her eyes between Blood and Smoke.
