“What do you suggest?” I ask.
“If we’re feeling particularly diplomatic, we could just order four large half-and-halves, so everyone gets what they want?” Naomi suggests.
We all turn to look at her, dumbfounded. “I can’t believe we never thought of that before,” I say.
“You’re a genius!” Gage laughs.
“Spoilsport, that’s no fun,” Ace mutters, ever the competitive one.
The night turns out to be one of the best I’ve had in a long time. We laugh and joke together, getting to know Naomi more, and for a little while, we’re able to forget the chaos of our lives. Naomi tilts her head back with laughter, exposing her slender neck. She looks more beautiful than ever, calm, happy. I find myself wondering what life would be like if she never left, if every night could be like this.
Chapter 11
Naomi
By eleven, I’m feeling happier than I’ve felt in a long time. I’ve almost forgotten the sinister reason I’m here. The guys have been sharing stories from their youth, tales of wild escapades at the clubhouse, a world that feels both thrilling and slightly intimidating. Surrounded by laughter and the clinking of bottles, I feel like I know them so much more now, enjoying the easy camaraderie that flows between them. Even Ace, the usually stoic member of the group, has relaxed, revealing a more laid-back, fun side I didn’t know he had.
One solitary slice of pizza sits in the discarded box on the table, a testament to my earlier appetite that has since waned. Despite the guys’ teasing to finish it off, I can’t manage another bite. Gage heads to the fridge for another beer, only to discover Cash drank the last bottle. “Damn it, we’re out of beer,” he says, staring into the depths of the fridge as if more might miraculously appear.
A wave of disappointment washes over me. I don’t want the night to end. It feels like the first hint of belonging I’ve experienced in a long time, and I’m not ready to let it slip away. Seizing the moment, I decide to take advantage of Ace’s good mood. “Why don’t we go to the clubhouse for a bit? I’d love to see it.” My voice carries a hint of excitement that surprises even me.
As I glance at Gage and Cash, their eager expressions reveal that they’re fully on board. We look to Ace, who, after a bit of cajoling, finally agrees. His approving nod sends a thrill through me. I feel like I’ve finally won with him.
The clubhouse is packed to the rafters when we arrive, pulsing with energy and life. A live band plays in one corner, the bluesy riffs curling around the room like tendrils of smoke. The walls are adorned with vintage motorcycle memorabilia, faded photographs, and the occasional newspaper cutting, all telling stories of freedom and rebellion. Long, scarred wooden tables fill the space, bearing the scars of countless nights fueled by beer and bravado. The music is a vibrant backdrop to the raucous laughter and conversation filling the air. Above the din, I can still hear the sounds of motorcycle engines roaring outside. People drink, dance, and laugh, their carefree spirits boosting the atmosphere. In one corner, away from the dancing, a group of rough looking men are playing pool, the balls slamming into each other with sharp cracks like thunder.
It takes us a while to weave our way through the crowd, each step punctuated by voices calling out to the guys, club brothers eager to greet them and give them friendly back slaps. They introduce me to so many new faces that the names blur together, but I soak in the warmth of inclusion regardless. It ignites a flicker of hope in my chest. Maybe, just maybe, this place could offer more than just a fleeting escape; perhaps it could be a steppingstone to finding myself. A place where I would no longer be alone, where others share my passions and dreams.
Behind the bar, the middle-aged redhead expertly pours drinks, her hands a blur as she navigates multiple requests with the ease of someone who has done this for decades. Able to skip the line, patrons parting like the Red Sea for him, Ace orders a round of beers and tequila shots, and the bartender moves with practiced ease to serve us quickly. “Welcome to the club, Naomi!” he says, raising his shot glass high, his dark eyes capturing mine.
The words hit me with unexpected force, sending a rush of warmth through my chest. In this chaotic, electric setting, surrounded by laughter and celebration, I feel a connection blossoming within me, a sense of belonging that sparks a genuine smile on my face. For the first time, Ace smiles back at me. The reflection of the warm lights glows in his eyes, as if he’s lit from within by fire. I try to take a mental image to paint later. Gage and Cash clink their glasses with ours, and we throw back the shots. I wince as the liquor hits my throat, and the guys poke fun at me for being a lightweight.
A small part of me worried that once we arrived at the club, I would be ignored, forgotten, but I needn’t have been concerned. Even in the busy bar filled with friends who want to talk to them, I hold their attention captive. My worries fade into the background, replaced by the anticipation of what the night might hold. The music, the laughter, and the feeling of friendship swirl around me, inviting me to let go of my reservations and fully embrace this new chapter in my life. As I lift my glass to join in the toast, I can’t help but feel that perhaps, just perhaps, I’m exactly where I’m meant to be.
“Let’s dance!” I shout over the din.
Ace pulls a face, his mouth a thin line. Gage laughs, revealing his straight, white teeth. “Ace doesn’t dance.”
I don’t want to let anything get in the way of my good mood. “Fine, then he can stand while we dance!” I grab hold of Gage’s hand, pulling him toward the throng of people. His hand is warm and steady in mine. I can practically hear Ace roll his eyes behind me as Cash chuckles and follows, too. I have to admit, I don’t mind the jealous looks that the women give me when they see us together. The guys surround me, forming a protective circle.
Ace and Cash stand to one side as Gage pulls me further into the fray. He places his hands on my waist, pulling me closer. As we grind in time with the music, my mind wanders to the night we spent together. I lay my hand on his chest, where I know the heart tattoo rests. I feel myself getting warm with arousal. The heavy mix of alcohol and the rhythmic tribal feeling of communal dance has me acting on instinct. I don’t care who’s watching as we dance, so close and intimate it would usually make me blush. Or maybe I do, at least I care about two other people in the room watching. I can feel his eyes on me, and as I glance over Gage’s shoulder, Ace’s eyes bore into mine. I can’t tell if he’s jealous, angry, or aroused. He stands with his arms folded, oblivious to the hungry gazes of the women around him. His focus is on me like a laser. He mutters something to Cash, who’s also watching us with naked curiosity. Gage nuzzles the hollow of my neck, his tongue darting out, sending a ripple of electricity through my body, and my attention snaps back to him like a rubber band.
“Do you know that everyone’s been watching you since the moment we walked in?” he murmurs to me, his voice low and seductive.
“Hardly, it’s you and the guys they’ve been looking at,” I reply, my breath coming out in a gasp as he dips me and pulls me back into his chest.
He captures my eyes with his, looking at me sincerely. “You’ve no idea the effect you have on people, do you?”
“You must be drunk,” I say, tilting my head back with laughter before gently tapping his chest.
He looks serious for a minute, but then the storm passes, and he smiles. “Speaking of, do you want another drink? I’ll head to the bar.”
“And leave me all alone?” I pout jokingly.
“Never,” he replies before signaling the guys. A brief discussion ensues, which prompts Cash to slope off toward the restroom, while Ace strides through the crowd toward me. Before I can utter a word of protest, Gage slips away with a “Be right back,” and a triumphant grin.
And then Ace is looming over me. He’s so tall that my head is in line with his muscular chest, I can see the smattering of hairs poking out of the top of his shirt and I wonder what he’d look like with it off. I feel awkward and uncertain in his intimidating presence. “We don’t have to dance, I mean, not if you don’t want to, or can’t,” I stammer, remembering his earlier reluctance.
He raises an eyebrow at me, and I know immediately that I’ve evoked his competitive nature. “Oh, I can dance, darlin’,” he says. He grips me firmly around the waist, pulling me to his chest, and I feel overwhelmed by his raw, masculine energy. He lifts and twirls me with ease, as if I’m as light as air. Everything else falls away. When the music stops, so do we, breathless and flushed. I gaze up at Ace, surprised to see the desire I feel reflected in his eyes.
