Long dark hair trailing down her back, smooth olive skin, dark eyes that sucked me in and a mouth which was begging to be kissed.
“That’s Gauge’s kid, ain’t it?” I said, suddenly feeling self-conscious in only a towel.
“Yeah,” Butch replied, unbolting the door, the tension leaving his body. He looked back to the center of the clubhouse. “Back it up, brothers, it’s just Gauge’s kid.”
“The fuck she doing here?” Skinny called to us, looking pissed off—and rightfully so. He tucked his gun into the waistband of his jeans and scratched at his bare chest. His jeans were on, but he wasn’t zipped up and he was obviously butt naked underneath, the denim riding low enough on his hips that he was practically hanging out of them.
“Put your junk away,” I snapped, hating that she’d see him half-undressed.
Skinny was kind of new around there, barely twenty-five and already fully patched. The brothers loved him because he was a crazy motherfucker who never backed down from a fight and was always the life and soul of every party, and the women all loved him because he was supposedly hung like a fucking donkey.
Without waiting to be asked, Laney pushed her way past us as soon as the door was opened, and I saw right away that she had been crying. Hot tears pouring down her olive cheeks, making them flush pink.
“Where is he?” she said, her gaze on Butch as her chin trembled.
“Who?” Butch asked.
She nodded. “Gauge? Where the fuck is Gauge?”
Butch scratched his head. “Ain’t seen him for a day or so now. He’s out on club business, but he’ll be back tomorrow. You all right? Someone fuck with you?”
Butch looked over to Skinny, who stepped forward, his hard gaze on Laney while he waited for his orders of who to kill and how quickly to do it. Because if anyone had fucked with her, that someone was a dead already.
“No!” she sobbed. “Well, yes, sort.”
“Need we to kill someone, darling’?” Skinny said, coming forward.
She looked at the serious look on Skinny’s face, realizing that he was serious. And then her gaze traveled down to his near-naked body. “God, you bikers are all the same, aren’t you!” She threw her hands in the air and stormed past me and Butch.
Butch looked to me for help, as if I’d know how to calm down a hysterical teenage girl. “I’ll go call Hardy. Keep an eye on her,” he said, slamming the door shut and bolting it. He patted me on the shoulder as he passed, nodding his head to Skinny to follow him. By the looks of things, Skinny was as happy as a pig in shit watching Laney’s tears soak through her white tee. I couldn’t blame him either, because goddamn she looked hot as hell right then. Small denim cutoffs, dirty ankle boots, and a T-shirt so tight I could practically see her nipples. I worked hard to control my own teenage hormones and the fantasies that were running through my mind.
“I’ve got this,” I said to him, my teeth gritted.
A slow grin rose on his face and he nodded. “All right, I feel you,” he said, and walked away.
I looked back at Laney, unsure what the hell to do to calm her down now that I was alone with her. “Can I umm, get you anything? A coffee? Tissues? Are you hungry?” I asked. I could actually cook—damn good at it too. Not that I’d let any of the brothers know, since they’d be getting me to cook for them all the time. But I’d cook for her if it made her smile.
She stopped crying and looked up to me, and she almost swallowed me whole with those big beautiful eyes of hers.
“Do you have beer?” she asked. “I could really use a beer right now.”
Beer.
I could definitely do beer.
Neither of us were old enough to be drinking, but that had never stopped me before, so I figured why the hell not.
“Sure, come on,” I said, leading her toward the bar.
I went behind it and pulled out two bottles from the small fridge, popping the lids off and handing her one. She took it from me and drank some, her bottom lip glistening as she pulled the bottle away from her mouth. I took a mouthful of my own beer and looked away from her nervously, watching Butch pacing up and down while he tried to get ahold of Hardy, or Gauge, or fucking anyone who knew what to do with a teenage girl.
I looked back to her, noticing she was staring at me. Her tears had dried up, but their tracks were still blatant down her face. She took another sip of her beer, seeming calmer, thankfully.
“Are you old enough to even drink that?” I asked, already knowing the answer but wanting to get more information out of her. The truth was, I had been infatuated with her since the first time I saw her, yet in reality, I knew barely anything about the girl.
“Are you?” she snapped, her eyes narrowed.
I tightened the towel around my waist and rolled my shoulders before downing half my beer in one go. “That shit don’t matter for me,” I replied. “But you, you’re Gauge’s kid, I don’t want to catch shit for giving you that.” I nodded toward her bottle.
