“Someone’s in a good mood,” Sin observes from his spot at the bar, that damn poker chip flipping between his fingers. “The brothers liked her.”
“They did.”
“You know what that means, right? Once the club accepts your woman, there’s no going back. She’s one of us now.”
My woman.
The words settle over me like a leather cut—familiar, right, and so fucking terrifying all at once.
“We’re taking it slow. She just got out of a long-term relationship—”
Sin snorts at whatever expression crosses my face when he cuts in. “Sure, you’re taking it slow, brother. Keep telling yourself that.”
I flip him off, but still smile as I grab my phone.
There’s already a text waiting from Marley.
Marley:Thank you for last night. Your family is amazing.
My family.
I save the text like the lovesick bastard I’ve become and head out to see Queenie.
Three hours later, on my way back to the club, my phone buzzes again on my dash, and then I hit the button to let the text play through my speakers.
Text from Marley:I hate my job. I hate Derek. I hate having to see his smug face every single day. Sorry for the rant, I just need to let off some steam!”
“Hey, Siri…
Text to Marley:Rant all you want, Small Town. You look pretty when you’re angry.Send.”
Beep. Beep.
“Sending…Text to Marley:Ant all you want, smell toenail. You look sweaty when you’re horny.”
I nearly drive off the goddamn highway, my eyes widening as my heart rate spikes. “The fuck, Siri!”
Beep. Beep.
“I am trying my best.”
The Honda’s speakers belt out her reply as if God himself wants to shame me.
Text from Marley:Are. You. Having. A. Stroke?
“Jesus Christ,” I mutter, gripping the wheel. Tighter. “Siri, you just cockblocked me in surround sound!”
Beep. Beep.
“I’m sorry, I do not understand your request.”
Letting out the mother of all frustrated groans, I try to speak very clearly.
“Hey, Siri…
Text to Marley:Sorry, I’m driving, talking into phone, it’s being a bitch, but keep talking, I’m here. Let it all out
… Send.”
