“I doubt I’ll ever need anything from a gang member, but thanks for the offer.”
“Biker,” I correct. “I’m in a motorcycle club, not a gang. But check us out. We’re legit.”
This makes her chuckle. “Yeah, only because Nevada is the only state that legalized prostitution.”
She’s heard of us. And she knows about Velvet Desire. “All of our girls are very well taken care of, and they make great money.”
“And your club is a collective pimp. Yeah, I’m sure it’s really fair.”
“You have an issue with women monetizing their sexuality? I thought modern women were against slut-shaming.”
There’s a satisfaction from the look on her face. I’ve caught her off-guard.
“You admitted to getting knocked up as a teen, so I wouldn’t have pegged you for a prude.”
“I’m not… This is…”
“For the record, I think you’re one of the hottest mamas out there. You don’t look like you have an eight-year-old.”
I think she wants me to insult her. To give her a reason to hate me. “You think I should go and apply at your brothel? Is that what you’re saying?”
“Sorry, babe, but we’d never hire you.”
“And why’s that?”
“Our girls are in the customer service business, which means they need to be pleasant unless paid to be otherwise. You’re not really coming across that way.”
Laughing, she shakes her head. “You don’t know anything about me.”
“Not for lack of trying on my part. I’d love to get to know you better.”
My eyes scan over her, taking in that hot body she doesn’t really try to hide, and I wouldn’t mind distracting myself with her. With her attitude, I think it would be a really good time.
“No, thanks.”
“I’m sure we’ll see more of each other very soon. It was a pleasure to meet you, Misty Reynolds.”
“Lucky me,” she says and walks up the porch.
The door shuts, and I smile. I’m not even mad at Nancy for kicking me out of the Seven Crows anymore. I got to meet the new neighbors. And I think Misty will come around. Eventually.
Chapter Seven
Misty
The last thing I expected was to find a biker I’m supposed to be leery of standing in my front yard talking to my daughter. And being that hot was even less expected.
God, that dark hair he tied up combined with the short beard on his face made me want to jump his bones. The large muscles didn’t hurt, either.
It took everything in me not to invite him inside for a nice, cold beverage. And then taking off every piece of clothing with my teeth. Especially because he seems to derive pleasure from my bitchiness. The only defense mechanism I have against men.
No, I can’t let him get to me. One week a year. That’s all I allow myself to give into my urges, and based on my reaction to the sexy, tatted man who called Bernie cute, I’m ready to burst. Or, maybe he called her glasses cute. Either way, he didn’t immediately give an excuse to run away when he learned her diagnosis.
Zeppelin. What kind of name is Zeppelin? I know he said his mom was a fan, but was she a groupie? Really loved to get high and listen to classic rock?
But it oddly suits him. Fits.
I just have to get my mind off that strong jaw beneath his beard. All I want to do is reach out and touch it to see how soft it is. And discover whether or not it would leave red marks on my thighs.
