I step out of my car after parking it at the club. The gates were open, no one was manning the small shed-like building that is guarded during other times, so I putzed my way along until I came to a spot that was near a lot of other vehicles and placed mine in park.
“About time you showed up.” The sun has faded behind the trees. There isn’t even that pretty sunset of orange and pinks, telling me just how long it took me to get ready.
“Hey, Sadie.” I spin around seeing Jackson’s mom walking up from their house off in the distance. She’s classically beautiful with her long red hair that gleams in the fluorescent light that’s being cast from the building. I swear to everything, these women age so effortlessly. Sadie’s outfit is well put together. I bet it didn’t take her hours to get ready.
“Hey, Sailor,” she replies, meeting me closer to my car. Apparently, we’re walking in together. Now, this should be totally awkward. For all intents and purposes, I’m boning her son, or he’s boning me. But there’s no awkwardness. If anything, Sadie is so relaxed and chill about it, going so far as to making jokes about how her son is never going to be like Lavender when it comes to marriage and one day popping out children. Which, hey, it kind of works in my favor. I had these big lofty dreams of finding the cowboy of my dreams who loved me with all his heart, we’d settle down on a patch of land, have a couple of kids, and live happily ever after.
“You excited for tonight?” I ask her. My hopes and dreams of finding a husband have been gone for a while now, not because of anything traumatic; I just realized it might not be the life for me after all.
“Yeah, it’s a milestone. One that I knew was coming, even if Jackson dragged his feet through the mud.” We walk beside each other, her in a cute top, form-fitting jeans, and boots.
“True, true.” The conversation is strained tonight, which never happens. I look down at my outfit worried that maybe it’s too over the top, but I’m practically wearing what I would any other day. The only thing different is the leather I’ve added to it.
“You okay?” Something isn’t settling right with Sadie.
“Yeah, a lot on my mind. Sorry, I’m not much company. Truthfully, I wouldn’t even be coming if it weren’t for Jackson and Bentley.” I want to probe more, but our conversation comes to a close when we walk towards the fold, where a few guys are standing up around a barrel. It’s full of wood and fire, not really for the warmth as much as the atmosphere and shooting the shit.
“Well, I’ll see you around. If, you know, you need anything, I’m here.” I squeeze her arm, giving her the solid truth. If she needs me, if any of them need me, I’d drop whatever I’m doing for them. The club didn’t have to take me in so to speak. It’s not like I’m a claimed Ol’ Lady or blood by any stretch of the imagination, yet they did.
“Thanks, honey, it’ll be okay. If you see Jackson before I do, let him know I’ll be in soon, okay?” Ruger’s arm bands around her lower back, lips going to the side of her head. The silent nod he gives me is even more cryptic.
“You got it,” I say, making a mental note to stop by at her house next week to check in. A prospect is holding the door open, the black cut giving away his status, not that I pay too much attention to them, not with the way some come and go. Jackson mentioned it’s not for the faint of heart and some men just can’t hack it, leaving just as soon as they get started. When they do that, though, the club bars them from entering for life.
I say my hellos, waving, hugging, and gabbing along the way. Hawk and Lavender tell me exactly where to find Jackson. My mind is on giving him one kick-ass gift for becoming a member; he just doesn’t know it yet.
CHAPTER 4
ROCKET
“Come in.” I’m sprawled on the bed in my room at the club when there’s a knock on my door. I should be out in the main room, celebrating with my brothers, but fuck if I didn’t spend all damn day with them and needed a break.
“Someone said congratulations are in order, stud.” Sailor struts into my room, closing the door behind her. I hear the click of the lock sliding into place.
“Fuck, baby doll.” She’s wearing a sheer black shirt with a small tank-style-looking bra beneath, the tops of her breasts spilling out, her bare midriff showing, and a tight-as-fuck leather skirt. Her bare legs give way until my eyes land on her heels. It’s seductive as fuckin’ hell.