I shrug. “Can’t say. I was enjoying you too much to notice.”
“Aw, that’s so sweet.”
Jiggy’s antsy and ready to get on the road when we meet him outside.
“We have plenty of time. What’s your deal?” I ask.
“Nothing. Thought you’d want to be there early so you can sit down with Pony before the place gets crowded.”
Eh, he has a point. My visit to Washington is supposed to be more than a social call. I slap his shoulder and thank him for the reminder.
“What do you think?” I turn toward Shelby. “Ready to visit my old charter?” As much as I want her by my side, I wouldn’t blame her for saying no. Fuck knows each club she’s visited with me has been a deeper dive into degeneracy.
“Heck yeah.” She pauses. “No one’s gonna try shootin’ ya, though, right?”
“Probably not.”
Jiggy claps my shoulder. “He has left a trail of broken hearts—”
“Have I done something to you?” I growl. It was bad enough when he said it to me earlier. No need to say it to Shelby.
“What?”
I glare at him.
“Yes, yes.” Shelby presses her hands against my stomach, trying to push me away from Jiggy before I choke him. “Rooster’s a big ol’ stud. I’m aware. Thanks for the reminder, Jiggy.”
He nods and clasps his hands in front of him like he’s a relationship boy scout. “Always happy to help.”
Shrewd as always, Shelby studies Jigsaw for a couple seconds. “Are you nervous about visiting for some reason?”
That wipes the deviousness off Jiggy’s face. I smother my laughter.
“Nothing makes me nervous, songbird.”
Normally that’s true but he seems a lot more stressed about this visit than I expected. Especially when I factor in how annoying he was about making sure we made the detour.
As close as we are, I don’t always know exactly what’s rolling around in the dark corners of Jiggy’s mind.
“Let’s roll out.”
Time to make the journey to the place I once called home.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Rooster
There’s something about the coastal pine air that feels like home. The old familiar back roads bring back good memories. Even better since I’ve got my girl at my back. We left the truck and RV at the hotel where Dawson and his crew are staying for the next couple days, so it’s just my girl, my bike, and me ridin’ the wind.
Wish we had more time so I could show her all of my favorite places. The closest town to the clubhouse is a funky place to wander around. Shelby would probably enjoy the shops and organic foods cafe. If we have time, I definitely want to stop by my uncle’s bar.
It’s the middle of the day when we arrive at the clubhouse, but a woman’s already spread out on the pool table. Denim skirt hiked up around her waist, feet on the green felt and knees spread wide.
Shelby blinks and slaps my chest. “Have y’all ever used a pool table for its intended purpose?”
Pants thrusts his hips a few times. “It’s the right height.”
I punch his arm. “Thanks, we got it.”
“Is he giving lessons?” Jiggy whispers to me.
“Why, do you need some?”
The guy with his head between the woman’s knees continues speaking. As if he didn’t notice us walking into the clubhouse.
“…Now, if you’re just gonna jam a finger up there and wiggle it around, you’re gonna frustrate her, not get her off.”
I don’t recognize the gruff voice but he’s a full-patch. On second glance, the four younger guys observing seem to be prospects.
“Shit, I guess he is giving lessons,” I say.
“Now that’s a prospect education program,” Pants snickers. “Fuck washing bikes, teach ‘em how to keep the ladies purring.”
Shelby squints up at me. “You know I’ve seen more vaginas since I started dating you than I’d seen in my entire life prior.”
Jigsaw snort-laughs.
She’s got a point. I glance down at her red cheeks and pull her closer. “Sorry, chickadee. Can’t say I expected this at eleven a.m. on a weekday.”
“Any time’s the right time to teach a man how to eat pussy.” Pants rubs his hands together and eyes the ‘workshop’ going on in the brightly lit corner.
“Can’t argue with that,” Shelby says. “I just always thought it was a more private activity. Not a classroom situation.” She tips her head back, meeting my eyes. Her lips part and I sense what she wants to ask.
“No,” I answer before she voices the question.
“He used to practice on oranges.” Jiggy slaps my back. “That’s how he became a master at it.”
Shelby narrows her eyes at him. “How would you—”
“You’re extremely vocal,” he reminds her.
Shelby’s cheeks turn even redder, but she lifts her chin, as if she doesn’t want to let Jiggy know he’s embarrassing her.
I smack the back of Jiggy’s head. “Could you not, please.”
“What? I’m helping.”
Dex screws his face into a questioning scowl. “Are you, though?”