“I’m gonna miss you when you leave,” she murmurs.
“I’ll only be a phone call away, Jersey. We’ll talk every day,” I vow, swearing that she won’t ever feel alone as long as I’m alive. Taunting her, I say, “And there’s always FaceTime if you’re missing my face.”
“And airplanes for the holidays,” she adds.
“Which we’ll spend together. We’re family,” I remind her.
We made a blood pact that neither of us will wallow during the holidays, drowning ourselves in self-pity and loathing, we’llspend them together. After all, not all families have blood ties, sometimes those you choose are better than those you didn’t.
“Family,” she whispers, scanning the field and watching the men and women interact.
My point has been proven with them. They chose each other, they weren’t forced on each other, and it’s something both of us long for, but neither one of us will try and melt into.
Rejection isn’t something either one of us are good with. We take that shit personally. I don’t like being slighted. I have a tendency to lash out when that happens, and it’s not pretty when I do. So for our sake, and the safety of others, we’ll stay in our glittery bubble, counting on ourselves and each other to fill the void left by our parents and peers.
Fuck ‘em, they don’t know what they’re missing because Jersey and I, we are awesome.
CHAPTER
TWO
LoneStar
For the last several weeks,my ass has been frozen like I was visiting an arctic Tundra. Which in a way, compared to Texas’ scorching weather, I had been. If I don’t have to take my ass back to Montana and their avalanche of snow any time soon, my thawing limbs will forever be grateful. I’ve only been back twenty-four hours and swear to fuck, I’m just now able to wiggle my toes without those pin and needle sensations flowing through them.
More than Riptide and I were originally supposed to go, but with strangers on and off the property while breaking ground for the new‘schoolhouse’—which more or less is nothing more than a few rooms, Rip and Slayer decided we needed more men here than up there. Made sense, and since things came together for Gemini and the guys rather swiftly, we didn’t have to stay as long as we’d estimated we would, which made me as happy as a clam in chowder.
I’m sitting at the bar, minding my own business with a bottle of Bud in my hand, when a sensual voice speaks from behind me. “You were gone for a long ass time, LoneStar.” A smirk quirks upward on my lips as she sits down beside me with a Corona in hand. “Y’all don’t have any lime behind the bar,” she complains. “I couldn’t even find any in the kitchen. Y’all suck.”
“Did you put it on the grocery list?” I ask. “Couldn’t have missed it, it’s a notepad tacked onto the fridge that has big, bold letters saying ‘Grocery’ on it.”
“Didn’t know that I could,” she conveys. “Not really a member and I thought it was for those who liveinthe clubhouse, not for those who randomly stop by.”
“So now you’ve delegated yourself as a rando, huh? You here for a hook-up, darlin’?” I ask, leaning over and lowering my voice. My grin widens with satisfaction when I see her shiver and goosebumps pebble on her skin. “If you are, I’m your man.”
“Hmm,” she hums, a devilish look coating her face. “Hadn’t thought about it, let me get a few drinks in me and we’ll see.”
I lean back and give her a skeptical look. “You saying you need to be drunk to fuck me, Britton?”
“As a skunk,” she taunts, but the tilt of her lips and the fire blazing in her eyes lets me know she’s fooling around, trying to yank my chain. The she-devil doesn’t want me to know she’s as drawn to me as I am to her.
Cool. Two can play that game. “Is it me, or is it hot in here?”
Compared to Alaska-like weather it is, but I didn’t think I’d want to strip anytime soon unless it was to hop in a steamy shower. Even then, it’s been questionable. I’m a southern boy down tomy cowboy boots and hat, I prefer the warmer climates and it seems it takes my body a bit to readjust to the dry heat of Texas after being in such a frigid atmosphere.
Give me tumbleweeds and dust storms over snow-capped mountains any day of the week and watch me shine like the rays that beat down on me when I’m home. I slide my arms out of my cut and fold it in half, respectfully laying it over the top of the bar as I yank my shirt off by the collar and set it across the empty barstool to my right. No member is to roam any part of the clubhouse without our cut, so I slip it back on and watch as she licks her lips as my muscles flex.
“You’re an asshole,” she breathes out. Her voice is choppy, barely above a whisper.
“Why’s that?” I ask, leaning toward her. Noticing that her bottle is nearly empty now, I continue my line of questioning. “Want another? I’d like to see you put your money where your mouth is.”
“What are we betting on?” she inquires, slanting her head to the side, keeping her eyes trained on me.
“What bed you’ll be waking up in come morning,” I answer, giving her a challenging look.
“Mine,” she promises. “I’ll never get drunk enough to wake up in yours.”
I give her a blinding smile, stating, “We’ll see.”
