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“How are you feeling about the baby?” I keep my voice low, and my eyes locked on Sioux as she laughs and chats with Wrenley, her face animated and bright.
“I’m fucking terrified,” he admits, and I can’t help but chuckle.
The image of my woman pregnant with my child slams into me and it’s hard to catch my breath for a moment. If I think she’s glowing now and the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, she’d be fucking incandescent while pregnant. I just know it.
Then the fear filters through. What if something were to go wrong? What if our enemies put a target on her back? What if I was a horrible father?
I might have had a great father, and I know my club brothers would be there to help me out however they could, but that doesn’t mean I would be able to hack it. Right?
Prodigal gives me shit, probably able to read the look on my face, “Yeah, you’re picturing your woman pregnant. Feel that terror? That shit is real.”
“There is a lot to fear,” I offer him.
“Yeah, and a lot to look forward to,” he adds.
We watch as Cherie makes her way over to our women and she’s immediately included in the conversation, even though I have a feeling the topic has changed. Something they’re talking about makes my woman blush.
Fuck, I want to make her blush and then see how far down the pink tint goes. My cock throbs behind the fly of my jeans and I hope that I get a chance to at least taste her tonight. I’ll take just a kiss.
Hell, I’d wish upon a damn shooting star right now.
It’s been difficult to be so close to her over the last few months and still wait. But it was for the best.
Now she knows me, the real me, behind the cut and the enforcer persona. I don’t think she was ever scared of me, but our connection is deeper than attraction and chemistry now. It’s something real, something worth holding on to.
Scythe saunters up to the bar and gives a chin lift to the newest prospect, Adam, who is doing a damn good job at serving tonight. When he leans against the wood top next to me and follows my line of sight, I can practically feel the way he’s smirking at me.
Not that I look at him.
I can’t when my Sioux is in the room.
“Oh, you’re stalking your women I see,” Scythe teases us, amusement dancing in his voice. “Creepy.”
I spare a glared glance at him, but he’s not at all deterred. Prodigal doesn’t even bother sparing him a look at all.
“I have to say,” Scythe starts, “Sioux is one sexy woman. I can see why you’d want to claim her.”
I growl, “Don’t even look at her.”
“I’m looking,” he taunts, but I also know he wouldn’t try to actually approach her.
He’s not fucking wrong either. She is a sexy woman and I’m a lucky bastard that she’s finally, fucking finally, starting to let her walls down and not fight against us being together.
There are times when I can see the shadows of pain in her eyes. I don’t know who fucked her over or any details, but I know it happened. I also know she doesn’t want me to slay those dragons, as in hunt down whoever they are and beat them until they can’t remember they were ever in my Firefly’s life to begin with.
My woman might guard her heart, but she’s not vengeful.
“Have you heard Driller is due home soon? He’s taking three months off this time instead of his normal one.” That gets my attention and I force myself to look away from Sioux to meet my brother’s gaze. He nods and adds, “At least that’s the intel I’ve gotten.”
“Is something wrong?” Prodigal is immediately in VP mode, his voice demanding, and his focus entirely on Scythe now. “Did something happen with his mom and sisters?”
“Not that I know of,” Scythe tells him, not at all cowed by the Prodigal’s intensity. “His eldest sister is graduating from high school this year. I would think he wants to be there for that. He spends so much time out on the rig,” there’s a hint of bitterness in his voice on our brother’s behalf, “maybe he just needs a damn break.”
I understand why Scythe is upset and it’s not directed at Driller. All his ire is for Driller’s mom. She was an old lady of the club since Driller’s father was a patched member until his unfortunate and untimely death. That was almost ten years ago now. I had just become a prospect when Driller was patched in.
He got his road name because he was working on an oil rig, even back then. But at the time he did shorter stints on rigs that were drilling new rigs. He liked the physical labor and the payout. To hear him talk about it, he was planning on only putting in a few years of work before coming back to shore permanently to open a tattoo shop.
Art was his first love, and he was talented as hell. I was looking forward to getting inked by him.
