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Ridge raises his glass. “As long as they don’t play with matches, you should be fine.”
Daisy steps out into the bar. She’s dressed in one of Vandal’s hoodies and barefoot, which is a bold choice given the state of our floors. Her mascara has smudged, and I swear there’s a tear streak down her cheek. With pink cheeks and mussed hair, she looks well and truly fucked, and completely at peace with it.
As soon as he sees her, Vandal picks her up off the ground as she wraps her legs around him. Given their size difference, it’s the equivalent of him lifting a bag of sugar, and he holds her with one arm while making sure his hoodie is covering her ass. For a guy who doesn’t mind the world hearing him fuck, he has weirdly strange privacy issues.
“Come back to bed,” she says quietly.
He strokes a knuckle down her cheek. “Not until you’ve drunk some water.”
“This is all obnoxiously cute,” I say, as he hands Daisy her water. With her hands around his neck, she cracks the bottle behind his back and then drinks half of it.
“She is, isn’t she?” Vandal says, and I’m not sure whether he misheard or he’s just laying the romantic lovey-dovey shit on thick.
“How long do we have left?” Daisy asks Vandal, who checks his watch again.
“About forty-five minutes.”
Daisy whispers something in his ear, and his grin goes wider as she speaks. He tips his chin in our direction. “Brothers.”
Then, he’s gone.
Ridge sips his beer. “Not sure how I’d feel having sex constrained to windows of time.”
I ponder it for a minute. “Can’t decide whether it would be a fun challenge or torture.”
“You headed out?” Ridge asks when he sees my keys.
“Figured I’d go home. We still on for fishing tomorrow?”
Ridge nods. “I’ll come over around nine. Need some bait from Maren before we head out.”
“We should ask Maren for a club discount program now that she’s banging Knox.”
Ridge chuckles. “You know Knox would never let her do it.”
I shrug. “Worth a try. See you in the morning.”
Music from the clubhouse drifts across the water behind me as I head out around the swamp, and it’s the best fucking sound.
Recently, I’ve been wondering what the rest of my life looks like. The younger members of the club have always been a little more hardcore about their bachelor status—or they were until Knox, and then Vandal, toppled. Knox and Maren are happy and expecting a baby. Never thought Prez would give up his freedom for anybody, but he fucking worships his woman. And Vandal has found some peace with Daisy and cute little Elsie. But I also see Rainbow and his old lady, how attentive he is of her and how much she loves and respects him. They have a decent house, two dogs, three kids, and four grandkids with a fifth on the way.
And they seem…happy. They’ve found a way to have a good life that doesn’t ride on whether the club is having a good month or not.
Though, currently, the club is having a great month. We now have Alvarez over a barrel, and the mood in the club is much less tense. I hadn’t realized just how much pressure his antagonism was putting on everyone’s shoulders. I’d always loved my room at the clubhouse and felt lucky because I got to look out over the water. But I realized that I was sleeping with one eye open, waiting for them to bring that missile launcher over in the dead of night and fire a rocket through the clubhouse.
Even started sleeping in joggers so that my naked ass wouldn’t be found blasted out over the parking lot.
So, it’s no wonder there’s a pep in my proverbial step as I wind my way home for the night. I need some fucking sleep. Not sleep that’s interrupted by smacking pool balls and pounding bed frames.
But there’s still a lingering thought that something’s missing. Not a woman, I don’t think. Just a sense of adventure. I wanna be doing something more, instead of feeling lost in my own life. I just don’t know what the more is, and with my limited skillset, there aren’t a ton of avenues I can take. But I have a bone-deep ache for something…bigger.
I take the long road home through the nature preserve, enjoying the inky-blue sky, the full moon, the stars, and the warm night air. The roads are narrow and winding. It’s a fun challenge to ride them in the dark, even if they are wet. I avoid the puddles in the middle of the road after this afternoon’s thunderstorm. A Category 2 hurricane hit the northwest tip of the panhandle. All we got was blowback.
But out of nowhere, I nearly hit a woman running into the middle of the road.
“Jesus Christ,” I gasp, grabbing a fistful of brakes as I hurtle by, trying to avoid her. My rear tire twitches on loose gravel, and for a minute, it feels as though I’m about to dump the bike. But I manage to bring the whole thing under control, even as my heartbeat races a million beats per hour.
I come to a halt and look back at the lunatic hurtling toward me.
