Instead of fessing up, I pretended to be tipsy. Goldie walked with me to a family room couch, where my heart continued to race. Eventually, I got my butt back outside and located my daughters.
The next thirty minutes were spent dancing with Skylar and Lyric. Eventually, they got tired and snuggled on my lap.
I put on a smile despite how panicked I was about the ticking time bomb in Boone’s jacket.Would he understand why I put the Eddie Murphy face in his pocket? What if he asked people about my behavior and I looked stupid?
As the night wore on, I more than once attempted to steal the paper back. That hope died when he slid on his jacket as the evening grew chilly. By the time I traveled home with my sleepy girls, I had sunk into a panicked depression. My attempt to go wild had ended with me making a fool of myself in front of my dream guy.
BOONE CHESTER
My life had been on the right path since day one. I had a solid family. My dad was a biker who terrified the world but adored his family. My mom was crazy in a million little ways, but she loved me unconditionally. My older sister watched over me and became one of my best friends.
We lived in a small townhome complex with other women like my mom. They rode with an all-women club called the Everything Nice Crew. My uncles were members of the Rawlins Heretics Motorcycle Club. Walking outside the law was in my blood.
I still managed to stay out of trouble until a mild brawl in a Missouri honkytonk left me locked up for months in a local jail. The asshole sheriff saw a chance to make an example of an outsider. “Biker filth” was what he called me.
I was riding with the Crimson Guard by then. My president, Clint Reed, did what he could to get the charges dropped. Our clubmate and lawyer, Lula, was a beast, but we were outside our Arkansas territory.
I never found peace during those months locked up. I left jail holding a grudge. My family clung to me after my release. My friends threw several parties in my honor. But the world had changed while I was gone.
My best friend, Clint, was now hooked up with a sweet woman named Ivy. They started living together immediately. I’d never seen Clint behave so rashly before, but I couldn’t deny they seemed happy.
His cousin Lula had found herself a man named Dan “Exile” Shaw. He was the VP of a Baton Rouge club called the Black Rainbow. The alliance between the two clubs happened while I was gone.
The changes weren’t all good. My two childhood friends and fellow Crimson Guard members, Cher and Stevie Swanson, had been nearly killed during an attack on the club. I came home to find them still struggling with their injuries.
On the one hand, good shit had happened. On the other hand, bad shit had gone down.There, stuck in the middle, was Nova Shaw.
Exile’s younger sister moved to Little Memphis when he did. Nova brought along her girls, five-year-old Skylar and four-year-old Lyric. They lived at Lula’s house. One big happy family.
As soon as I laid eyes on the gorgeous brunette, I’d been hooked. Nova had the most expressive blue eyes, a shy smile, and curves for days.
But she was off-limits. Or maybe not. I couldn’t really tell what was happening between Exile and Nova. Her brother definitely seemed overly protective.
My family could also prove to be a problem. Goldie swore the last thing I needed was a damaged woman to love.
“You can’t save everyone,” my sister insisted. “Find a nice, normal, boring bitch to wash your undies and burp your babies. No drama.”
Goldie wasn’t necessarily wrong about what would be best. However, I did enjoy drama. My mom, Yarrow Jones, was sometimes batshit crazy, but I wouldn’t want her any other way. I tended to hook up with the wildest, most unhinged club sluts. But I knew I wasn’t keeping those deranged broads. A quickie with crazy was all I could handle.
With Nova, I wanted far more than a one-night stand. She was always in my thoughts. I couldn’t really dodge her, either, since she had been wrapped into the Crimson Guard’s inner circle. Goldie and the rest of the club’s foxes swore a wild child lived inside Nova, and they planned to lure it out.
Though I should have ignored my feelings and returned to a life of quickies with crazies, I chose instead to walk around with a lonely boner and a sad heart stuck on a particular woman.
Nova was on my mind again when the guys stopped at my condo before we planned to ride to our clubhouse, The Fire Hooch. The first guy through the door was Clint’s cousin, Roy “Rowdy” Reed. He was a tall, lean asshole with long, dark hair and icy blue eyes. He strutted rather than walked. Most of what he said was bullshit, but few people were more loyal.
The second guy through the door was my club VP. Rock Savo and I grew up in Rawlins at the townhome complex. His mom was the top bitch in the Everything Nice Crew. I wouldn’t exist if Ginger Jones hadn’t saved my mom from a hellish existence.
Rock got most of his looks from his dad, Oz Savo, who was the Rawlins Heretics’ president. Pushing six-five, he was built wide and thick. He kept his hair shaved short, better to show off his pretty green eyes. Rock was a no-nonsense guy with an intimidating presence, but I still remembered when he used to cry for his mama.
The men settled onto separate couches in my living room as we waited for the other guys to arrive. Rowdy stretched out along one while Rock glared at him from the other.
“Are you going to get nasty with anyone tonight?” Rowdy asked me.
“Probably not.”
“What’s this about?” Rock asked, refusing to pick up on people’s romantic drama.
Rowdy answered for me, “He’s got the hots for someone, and none of those club sluts will do.”
