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“Good.” Dracus nods, giving Bama a pointed look. “We just want to make sure you’re safe. Tex was pissed about it too.”
I roll my eyes. It’s one thing to have one overbearing father, but I have three. Imagine how lovely my teenage years have been.
“I get it, but you know, you could be hassling Nova. She’s a wild child compared to me,” I say, glancing at Bama from the corner of my eye.
There’s something stirring beneath the surface, something I can’t quite name. But it’s there, simmering, and I just want more.
“Another beer would be great right about now,” I tell Bama, breaking the momentary silence with a smirk.
“Coming right up.” He chuckles, reaching into the fridge.
He hands me a cold one, our fingers brushing again. This time, I don’t pull away.
“Thanks,” I say softly, meeting his gaze.
Bama’s eyes linger on mine for a second longer before he looks away, a small smile playing on his lips.
Just as I’m opening up the can, I notice my fathers’ eyes on me. “Nova might be wild, but you’re the one with the big heart,” my dad, Bolt, points out. He elbows me in the side playfully and kisses my temple. “I gotta run. Love you, kid.”
“Me too. We have to run into town,” my dad, Dracus, comments. “Love you, Firecracker.”
“Love you too, Dads. Be careful.” I’m not sure if running into town means they’re going for some sort of supplies or if it means that they’re going on a run for the club.
We were supposed to go on a ride today, but Zane advised us all that riding in such a large number would be foolish given the threats the club is currently still dealing with.
I might be at the bar for another fifteen minutes when the last of my fathers comes walking up.
“Thought I’d find you here,” Tex’s gruff voice cuts through the haze of the dimly lit clubhouse.
He strides up, his boots heavy on the worn wooden floor.
He’s got that look like he’s about to lay into me. I remember it time and time again after being reprimanded when I was being naughty as a child.
“Hey, Pops,” I greet him, trying to sound casual. But there’s no missing the steel in his eyes.
“Want to tell me why you called this dimwit last night instead of one of us?” His tone is sharp, almost accusatory. “Instead, you called Bama the kiss-ass prospect.”
“Seriously?” I roll my eyes, exasperated. “Are you all gonna hound me for my choice to call Bama?”
“Yes.” There’s no playfulness in his tone at all.
“Come on, Pops,” I groan, running a hand through my hair. “I’m not a kid anymore. I can handle myself.”
“Doesn’t mean we suddenly stop caring since you’re over eighteen,” Pops retorts, crossing his arms. “We worry ‘cause we love ya.”
“Mom worries too, but she’s not up my ass,” I grumble, my shoulders slumping. “In fact, I haven’t even heard any shit from her. Probably because she knows I get enough from the three of you!”
Pop’s stature softens a bit, and a smile breaks out. “You know, you’re probably right. The three of us worry enough about you girls that your ma doesn’t even need to bring shit up.”
I arch my brows and widen my eyes. “No, she doesn’t. Look, I get it. I’m your little girl, but I’m not a little girl. Please, loosen the leash a bit.”
Pops inhales deeply through his nose. “Fine, I’ll work on it.”
I smile and grab his hand. “Thank you.”
He nods and clears his throat. “Let me go see what your ma is up to. Maybe I can get up in ‘er.”
My jaw drops to the floor. “Oh my God, Pops! Go, you disgusting old dog!” I shove him away, and he walks off cackling like a damn hyena.
