After a few minutes, we step back into the hallway. As soon as we re-enter the clubhouse, the noise and music hit us like a wave, enveloping us in the chaotic energy of the party. Hawk’s hand slides down and smacks my ass, the action feeling both possessive and teasing. “Behave.”
I yelp and laugh again, the sound bubbling up uncontrollably. “Yes, sir.” We make our way to the bar, where the bartender slides another drink toward me. I glance at Hawk, raising an eyebrow. “Did you get these for me?” He just smirks, that playful glint in his dark eyes clearly saying yes.
People are watching us now, their expressions a mix of curiosity and amusement, but no one says anything. Apparently, my littlebar fight earlier made an impression. Hawk grabs my hand and pulls me toward the back doors, leading me outside. The smell of grilled food and smoke fills the air, mingling with the sounds of laughter and chatter. A big fire pit crackles nearby while groups of people sit around it, drinking and eating.
He looks down at me, brow furrowed in determination. “What do you want to eat?”
“I’m not really hungry—”
“Not what I fucking asked.”
I roll my eyes, exasperated. His hand immediately grabs my ass and squeezes, sending a thrill through me. “Don’t fucking roll your eyes at me.”
I roll them again, daring him, and then lean up to kiss him quickly, a mischievous grin spreading across my face. “I’ll have a burger,” I sigh. “If you’re going to force me to eat.”
He grunts and grabs a plate, loading it up with food. A minute later, he hands it to me, and I stare at it in disbelief. It’s piled high with a burger, fries, and beans. “There’s no way I’m finishing all this,” I protest, incredulous.
He smirks, a challenge in his eyes. “Try.” We walk toward the fire pit, where a few of the guys are already sitting, laughing heartily. I recognize Ghost among them, along with a couple of other men I’ve seen around the clubhouse. They huddle together, laughter spilling out as they crowd around Ghost’s phone.
Hawk raises an eyebrow, curiosity flickering across his face. “What?”
Ghost grins and hands him the phone. “Check it.” Hawk looks down, and then slowly lifts his eyes to me, a mixture ofamusement and disbelief on his face. I lean over to see the screen, my stomach dropping as I realize what I’m looking at.
It’s a video.
Of me.
And Grinder.
Specifically, the moment he grabbed my arm—my internal debate clearly visible as I looked down at my cast, then back at him, then back at my cast again. The video ends right before I was about to swing.
Hawk slowly lowers the phone, his expression darkening. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
I shrug, trying to play it cool. “I was internally debating.”
“You were going to punch him.”
“Well,” I say reasonably, “you were nowhere to be found. What else was I supposed to do?” A few of the guys around the fire chuckle, but Hawk does not.
He tightens his arm around me slightly, his expression serious. “Maybe you need to learn how to not be a fucking smart ass all the time.”
I sigh, rolling my eyes dramatically. “Fine.” He narrows his eyes, clearly not satisfied. “If I’m ever in that situation again,” I continue, “I’ll smash their face with the side of my cast instead.”
He rolls his eyes, and one of the guys around the fire laughs. “Where the hell did you find this one?”
I shrug, keeping the mood light. “He kidnapped me off the side of the road one night while I was walking home.” The guy goes completely still, and Hawk chokes on his beer, while Ghost nearly spits his out laughing.
I wave my hand quickly, trying to clarify. “Okay, I’m mostly joking.” I grin. “But I did meet the big brute at an event.”
Twenty-Three
Emma
The fire has dwindled to a soft glow, casting flickering shadows against the gathering darkness. The red and orange embers dance like fireflies, creating a warm ambiance that wraps around us like a comforting blanket.
I’m nestled against Hawk, my body molded into his as I lean back against his chest. His presence is a steady anchor amid the chaotic energy of the guys around the fire. They’re deep into an animated debate, laughter erupting over some absurd video Ghost shared earlier, their voices rising and falling like the crackling flames. Hawk’s arm drapes protectively across my waist, heavy and warm, with his fingers occasionally tightening, as if to remind both of us that this moment is real—*that I’m still here*.
It's… nice. No, it’s more than just nice.
