“Exactly. Fuck. All right, lemme go talk to Cop. You coming to the clubhouse?”
“Not yet. I gotta swing by my house for a bit, but I’ll meet you at the clubhouse later.”
Zach cocked his head. “You doing some work on the place or something? Rocket didn’t mention anything.”
Rocket had owned a contractor company for almost two decades. No one in the club would dare use anyone else for their construction projects.
“What? No. Why?”
Zach shrugged as he stood. “You keep having to rush home for shit lately.”
“Oh.”
Well, Z, I’m fucking Beth so…
“Just family shit.”
“Your siblings good?”
“Yeah. There’s just a million of ’em, so someone always has some drama going on.”
“Good luck with that, brother,” Zach said with a laugh. He clapped Saint’s shoulder as he passed by. “I’ll find you later.”
“Yeah. Later.”
Thank God Zach bought the lie. Well, it wasn’t a lie, one of his siblings was always in some state of crisis, but it sure as fuck wasn’t why he’d been rushing home lately. That was all Beth.
He stayed for a few minutes, finishing his coffee. Around him, the diner bustled with activity as it always did. Waitstaff rushed from table to table, delivering food, clearing plates, and seating newcomers. They stopped serving at two in the afternoon, but most of the time, customers lingered past three.
Beth was due at his house around two. She and Screw spent the morning with their corporate realtor scouting locations for the grooming salon. Over the past two weeks, they’d developed a comprehensive business plan and were moving full steam ahead.
Pride welled in him. It turned out, Beth worked her ass off once she set her sights on something. She was a force to be reckoned with and had flourished with her newfound purpose.
It was a beautiful thing to watch.
Each time she came to his house, he found it harder to watch her leave. More than once, he’d had to resist the strongtemptation to tie her to his bed and demand she remain there for the rest of her life. Last night, he’d fantasized about slashing her tires to keep her from leaving.
He was sick in the head, but he didn’t act on the impulses, which had to count for something. Beth made him want to be better. To be the man she saw when she looked at him with those trusting eyes.
Right?
Really, they needed to have a serious discussion. He was ready to claim Beth, to put a label on it, lock her down, and call her his. Fuck the obstacles in their path. He didn’t give a shit about their age difference, and worry about the club faded with each passing day. Copper had to relent once he realized his daughter was respected, treated like a queen, and would be taken care of no matter what.
Keep telling yourself that.
His constant hard-on appeared to have siphoned so much blood from his cranium that he’d suffered brain damage and was experiencing delusions. He drained his mug, dug out a twenty, and dropped it on the table. Toni wouldn’t keep it. She’d split it between her hard-working staff.
“Have a good one, Saint,” Toni called as he made his way to the exit.
“Bye, Tone. See ya, Lindsey.”
“Oh! Bye, Saint. Sorry, I didn’t have time to chat. It’s nuts today.” Lindsey rushed around the counter to give him a quick kiss on the cheek.
“No worries. I’ll catch you later.” He was a few years older than Lindsey, but not many. They’d been close for almost a decade, with a relationship more like cousins than mere friends. She’d played a massive part in helping him pull his head out of his ass in his early twenties when he was angry, bitter, and high more often than not. Who knew where he’d be without herslapping him upside the head and telling him to stop being a fucking idiot and prospect with the club.
Beth’s car was already parked in his garage when he arrived home. Instantly, everything faded but the anticipation of seeing her, holding her, touching her. After parking his motorcycle next to her car and closing the garage so no one would discover their secret, he went inside through the interior garage door.
The second his foot hit the tile floor, a soft weight slammed into him.
