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“Damn.” He licks his lips and takes a hard draw.
“What?”
“Wish you and I were about five years down the line in life.”
“Why is that?”
“Cause’ I’d wifey you the fuck up. Keep you barefoot and pregnant.”
My stomach drops. He sounds like Smoke and my heart cracks more.
“I don’t plan on having kids.”
“You say that today, but a few years from now. You’ll change your mind.”
“Highly doubt that.” I crinkle my nose and wave my hand at the cloud of smoke forming a halo around us as he flicks his cigarette to the ground and pulls me into his hips.
Creed slides his hands into my back pockets, giving me a possessive squeeze and trapping me between his legs. “You don’t like kids?”
“It’s not that. Can we talk about something else?”
“We don’t have to talk at all,” he says, shoving a piece of gum in his mouth. It won’t completely kill the taste of nicotine, but it will help disguise the bitterness of the tobacco.
Creed’s mouth moves against mine and I open to him, wanting to ignore the fact that my ex is nearby and that I wish it were him I am kissing instead.
I don’t know what that says about me
“Get a room,” someone shouts, and Creed flips them off.
“Let’s get some grub. I’m starving.” He slaps me on the ass, then releases me.
I follow Creed past the Kings of Anarchy MC clubhouse to where they have some picnic tables set up buffet style loaded down with hot dogs, hamburgers, all the sides, and trimmings.
“What do you take on your burger, beautiful?” Creed questions and I confess that him serving me is a nice switch. Normally I’d be the one grabbing Smoke a plate.
“She prefers mustard and ketchup. Pickles and onions, but not too many,” Smoke answers.
“Thanks, man. Babe, why don’t you grab us some drinks?”
“Sure thing.” I kiss Creed on the cheek.
“You two a thing now?” I hear Smoke growl as I slowly make my way over to the big tubs of ice. One is filled with beer and wine coolers and the other has water and pop.
“And if we were?”
I exhale loudly and grab us both bottles of water and hope the two of them don’t come to blows. Smoke can hold his own, but he’s not a match for Creed. Dude is a professional fighter and even bested Viking who never loses. I’m upset with Smoke. That doesn’t mean I want him to get hurt. Even if he deserves to get his ass beat a little. One punch wouldn’t be that bad. It’s only that I’ve witnessed the power that one of Creed’s punches can pack. He’s not a guy to mess with.
“Girl, you’re here with Creed,” some girl says with a dreamy look on her face.
“Sort of. I’m not his Ol’ Lady, if that’s what you’re asking?”
“What about the one he’s about to drop?”
“My ex.”
“Okaaayyy.” She smiles bigger. “High five. Don’t leave me hanging, sugar.”
“Sugar?”
