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I’ve barely come to terms with accepting what Crosby is offering.
“I told her that if she called me by my road name one more time then I was going to spank her ass bright red,” Crosby’s voice is seduction wrapped up in sun-warmed silk and I jump in surprise as I look up at him with wide eyes.
He has my drink in one hand and a beer in the other. Prodigal chuckles as he wiggles his eyebrows at Wrenley, and she blushes as well. What is it with these bikers?
When I take the drink he offers to me, our fingers touch, and warmth glides from the point of contact until it envelops my entire body. The way he smiles at me tells me that he knows exactly what kind of effect he has on me.
Damn this man.
I make a shooing motion with my hand, “Thank you for the drink, but go away. There are still so many questions that I need answers to.” I look at Prodigal and give him a huge smile before lowering my voice slightly, “Congratulations, by the way.”
The look of love Prodigal gives Wrenley has my heart clenching. There is so much warmth and acceptance in his eyes. It’s everything my best friend has always deserved.
There have been times over the years when I’ve been worried as hell about Wrenley. When her sister died at the age of 18, we were both 13 and already long-time best friends. Jessica’s death was unexpected, tragic, and a complete twist of fate.
Her parents did not take Jessica’s death very well and basically abandoned their only other child while wallowing in their grief. I wasn’t going to lose my best friend and did not hesitate to be the support and family that she needed.
The other twist? Way back when Jessica died, Prodigal was her boyfriend. They were in love and totally couple goals in the eyes of two newly teenaged girls.
It’s strange the turns that life takes you on. These two people, both devastated by the loss of one person, but in different ways, found each other. The way they fell in love wasn’t easy and Prodigal had to get over his own shit and out of his own damn way but look at them now.
Crosby crouches down in front of me and palms my cheek. My eyes snap to his and I’m lost in his dark eyes for a moment as he studies me. “You’re not mad at me now that you know the secret too?”
“I don’t know,” there’s a slight teasing to my words, “I think you might owe me one since you kept me in the dark.”
The smile that curls on his lips is pure sin and my nipples harden instantly. “I probably owe you more than one,” he bargains, proving he is the worst negotiator ever.
At least when it comes to me.
I roll my eyes before taking a big sip of my drink. It’s the only defense I have because I’m a heartbeat away from launching myself at him and begging him to take me up to the room I know he still has at the clubhouse. Wrenley would understand, but this is something that deserves my undivided attention.
There’s no way I can focus with Crosby so close.
“I might just have to cash in later,” I murmur.
I’m not prepared for Crosby leaning in and brushing his lips over mine. It’s a chaste kiss and it’s over way too soon, but it still sends a shockwave through my system.
He drops his hand from my face, and I miss the contact immediately. As he stands slowly, my gaze roams over his body.
No man should have the muscular thighs he does or fill out a pair of jeans like he can. It’s criminal, honestly.
Prodigal hands Wrenley a drink which I have no doubt is non-alcoholic. He kisses her so damn softly that it makes my heart clench with happiness for her. He whispers against her lips, “Do you need anything before I’m banished to the other side of the room?”
“No, I’m good. Go and do manly things while we have girl time,” she urges him.
He gives her one last kiss before standing up and flashing me a smile. As the men head back into the middle of the party, we both watch them go like they’re a Vegas show. And I’m not a little bit ashamed about it. We’re not the only ones watching either. The angels look on, but I’m sure that none of them will approach the guys. While I can’t imagine it’s the same in all MCs, but when it comes to the men of the DSMC, they hold their old ladies as sacred.
And they don’t fuck around on them.
And they treat them like gold.
I’ve met the old ladies from some of the older club brothers and they’re all awesome women, but they don’t come out and party very often. Cherise is the one old lady that is always around. Well, and now Wrenley.
“You would look hot as fuck in a property cut,” Wrenley teases and I turn to her and stick out my tongue.
We look at each other, our faces serious, for a beat before we both start giggling. I give my friend another hug, excitement filling me at the thought of being an aunt. Because we might not be blood, but that doesn’t mean anything.
Not when we’re family.
