“What’s your name?” he asks.
“M-Marietta.”
“And you want to be a club bunny for the Wild Hair?”
I glance over at Merrick. “Maybe.”
“Do you know what that involves?”
“N-not exactly.”
Iron Jack’s hair is straw blond and almost touches his shoulders, but his resemblance to Jax onSons of Anarchyends there. His face is tough, his stance is unforgiving, and he looks like he could crush me with his bare hands.
He turns to Merrick. “Prospect, come here.”
Merrick looks ill at ease as he approaches, his glance shifting from Iron Jack to me and back again. “She’s not right for the club.”
Something rises in me, indignant. “I am, too!”
Iron Jack holds up a hand to shush me. “She’s open to becoming a club bunny. It’s not up to you.”
Merrick’s jaw tightens. I run through every MC romance I’ve ever read. Iron Jack could claim me. Merrick could claim me. Heck, even Chain or this other brute could do it, if they don’t already have an ol’ lady.
Or I could be a bunny. Merrick acted like I could choose who I was with, but the way these men are fighting suggests that they do the picking, not me.
But most everything I know is from books. They’re just stories. I’m not sure romance authors know much of anything about how real motorcycle clubs operate. And they could all be different. Merrick already made fun of me for comparing the Wild Hair to the showSons of Anarchy.
Iron Jack motions for me to come closer.
I summon the courage I used when I danced on the bar. I lift my head and walk right up to him like I’m brave and not a terrified kitten.
He takes my chin and moves my face from side to side. “She’s pretty.” He lets go. “But not my type.”
He puts his hands on my shoulders and turns me around to face the three men who have been fighting over me. If I’ve got it right, it’s Merrick plus Hoss and Chain.
“She can be a club bunny, and she can come and go as she likes. Or we can make her a house mouse and put her up at the club until someone claims her. We could use another permanent woman to help out.”
“Hell yeah, we could,” Betz says. “I’m tired of doing all the cooking. Celia and Carol don’t do shit.”
Iron Jack listens to her and nods. “We aim to keep our ol’ ladies happy, and currently, we don’t have a house mouse.”
I wonder what a house mouse is.
“She’s in college,” Merrick says. “She shouldn’t live at the club.”
Iron Jack bends down to look at me. “That true?”
“I-I’m almost done with my coursework.”
He straightens to address the crowd. “She’s amenable to living with us.”
Living with them? “Would I belong to a-all of you?”
Iron Jack shakes his head. “As a house mouse, you have a place to stay and the protection of the club. We can take you to class.”
I peer up at him. Lord, he is big. “What’s the difference between a club bunny and a house mouse?”
“Club bunnies don’t live at the clubhouse. They come out to party and have fun with the members of their choosing. A house mouse works in the clubhouse. You live in the bunks. Nobody is allowed to touch you unless you get claimed.”
