“You doing okay there, sweetheart?” Ruth asks, her eyes crinkling with motherly concern.
“I’m fine,” I say. “Just still adjusting to... everything.”
My gaze drifts across the yard, settling on Havoc. He stands with Diesel near the fire pit, surrounded by three women with tight clothes and practiced smiles. Sweetbutts, Ruth calls them. Women who hang around the club hoping to catch a member’s attention.
One leans into Havoc, her hand trailing up his arm, her laughter floating across the yard. Something twists in my stomach.
“Don’t pay them any mind,” Ruth says, following my stare. “Those girls come and go.”
“It’s not—I wasn’t—” I stammer, embarrassed at being caught.
“It’s natural to be curious.” Ruth pats my arm. “But those sweetbutts... they’re just passing through. The boys use them when they need to blow off steam, if you catch my meaning.”
I nod, heat rising to my cheeks as I remember Ruth’s earlier explanation about club life. How these women offer themselves to any brother who wants them. How they move between beds like it’s nothing.
Havoc laughs at something the blonde says, and I grip my cup tighter.
“I don’t care what he does,” I say, the lie bitter on my tongue.
Ruth’s knowing smile makes me look away. “Of course not. Now, why don’t you bring those boys some drinks? They look parched.”
I make my way across the yard with the pitcher, determined to follow Ruth’s suggestion. Whether it’s to distract myself from Havoc and his admirers or just to feel useful, I’m not sure.
Diesel, Ryder, and the two prospects are lounging across lawn chairs near the edge of the property. Their cups sit empty on a small table between them, making them perfect candidates for a refill.
“Lemonade?” I offer, approaching their circle.
Diesel tips his empty cup toward me with a nod. “Appreciate it, Princess.”
I carefully pour, trying not to spill any as I’m conscious of their eyes on me. When I reach Ryder, he gives me thatunsettling stare that always makes me wonder if he’s calculating the easiest way to dispose of my body.
“The prospects look thirsty too,” Diesel says, gesturing to the two younger men.
Kade holds out his cup with that easy smile of his, blue-green eyes warm and friendly. “You’re a lifesaver,” he says as I pour his drink.
“Don’t mention it.” I smile back. Out of all the members, the two prospects have always felt the least intimidating, closest to my own age.
Wyatt runs a hand through his dark curls, grinning at me over Kade’s shoulder. “What about me? Am I getting any of that?”
“You’ll get whatever’s left,” I tell him, and he clutches his chest like I’ve wounded him.
“That’s cold, Sasha.” His grin doesn’t waver. “And here I thought we were friends.”
“Club rules say prospects have to do whatever they’re told.” I raise an eyebrow. “So maybe start earning it.”
Wyatt’s smile widens. “Absolutely anything. Just say the word.”
“Don’t go giving her ideas,” Diesel warns.
“I could use help with some boxes in my room,” I say, holding Wyatt’s gaze a second longer than necessary.
Kade sits up straighter. “I can help with that, too. Four hands are better than two.”
“Is that so?” I feel a small thrill at their attention, so different from the weight of Havoc’s stare.
Wyatt leans in closer. “So those boxes... You need help with them right now? Cause we’re happy to lend a hand.” The way his eyes flicker over me makes it clear he’s offering more than just manual labor.
“Yeah,” Kade chimes in, “we could head in right now. Get you all sorted out.”
