by Amelia Shea
“Maybe not everyone has to go.”
Before she even finished her sentence, Macy was shaking her head. “You know Billy and Raina, they got married last year?”
“Uh...no.”
Macy waved a hand in front of her face. “Ok, well it doesn’t matter. Except, it’s their anniversary today. Guess where Billy’s ass will be? On a bike, not with his wife.” Macy nodded, then got a devilish gleam in her eyes. “Saint’s ass? In your fucking house. Holy shit!”
“No, that can’t be right, maybe he wasn’t scheduled to go.”
“Everyone is going. You heard him on the phone, only one person he was talking to. Kase, who by the way, told all the members you were off-limits.”
She blinked at the new piece of information. “What?”
Macy nodded. “Yeah, Rourke told me Kase made it clear you were off-limits to the guys.” She wiggled her brows. “Guess Saint didn’t get the memo.” She laughed and grabbed Bailey’s hand. “I’m so excited for you.”
Bailey swayed on her feet. I’m off-limits? What did that even mean? And now Saint was blowing off a club thing to have dinner at her house? It made no sense.
“You okay?”
Bailey drew in a breath. “A little overwhelmed.”
Macy smiled. “Let’s go figure out what you are going to wear. Something sexy and easy to get off. God, if you two bang and you don’t give me details, I’m gonna be so pissed at you.” Bailey trailed behind Macy in a bit of a haze.
She had a date with Saint Monroe.
****
Saint pulled up the long dirt drive and parked on the edge of the lot closest to the house. He could have just gone straight home, but he had some explaining to do. Kase deserved it and would be a relentless prick if he didn’t. He dismounted and headed for the door when he heard his name being called.
Glancing over his shoulder, he watched Cheyenne saunter forward. Saunter, it was the only way the woman moved, all tits and ass swaying, not even realizing she was doing it. It amused the fuck outta him seeing his close friend lose his shit when she did it at club parties. Not a single guy with his eyes not glued onto Trax’s old lady. Except Saint. He had eyes for only one woman.
She stopped two feet away and smiled. “Hey there.”
He nodded. “Chey, how are you?”
She drew in a breath and grinned. “Good. The house is done, we moved in last week.”
“I heard. Congratulations.”
“Thanks.” She bit her lip and shifted on her feet. “Still in the process of furnishing it. It’s going to take time.” He watched her draw in a deep breath. “You good?”
He nodded.
She clasped her hands and glanced around their immediate area. “Good.”
He eyed her. She was stalling. She had something to say, and she was strategizing how to present it to him. Of all the women, Cheyenne was one of his favorites. She had come through for the club and been a saving grace for Mick when he took his last breath. He may not have expressed it often, but he was eternally grateful to her. Beyond club business, Trax loved her more than anything. Finally, his brother found a good woman he deserved.
She glanced up at him, and he raised his brows. Yes?
“So, um…well…” She smiled then chuckled and drove her hands through her hair. “Oh hell, Saint, I don’t know how to do this right.” She laughed again, which had his mouth twitch. She was nervous, though he didn’t understand why. He usually kept his distance from the women. However, he made sure not to come across as intimidating with the old ladies.
“You could just say it,” he offered.
“Just blurt it out?” She squinted her eyes, waiting on him.
He raised his brows and slowly nodded.
“Okay.” She drew in a breath and smiled. “Okay, so I’ll just say it then.” She tightened her lips and stared at him. He folded his arms and stared back. At this rate, it would be a while before he made it inside to speak with Kase.
She nodded. “Ready?”
Saint arched a brow and cocked his head, slowly losing control of his chuckle. “Yes.”
She sighed. “Make sure you’re all in.” She paused, gauging his reaction before she continued. “One hundred percent all in with Bailey.”
Saint’s jaw tightened, and his chest constricted. As much as he liked her, the topic of him and Bailey was strictly their business.
Chey held out her hand in front of her. “None of my business, I know, Saint.” She paused, gathering herself. “I wasn’t there last week when the shit with Dobbs went down. Macy filled me in on the details. Said she’d never seen anyone so destroyed. And I’m sure Dobbs didn’t mean to hurt her, I know it wasn’t intentional.” She shrugged. “It doesn’t make it hurt any less for Bailey.” Cheyenne narrowed her gaze, and her lips tightened. “I don’t want her hurt again.” She folded her arms taking a stance against him.
He had to give her credit. Aside from her obvious nervous twitch at her temple and her rocking back on her heels, she seemed to be doing her best to convey a threatening pose. She was, of course, failing. He did enjoy the protective stance she was taking on Bailey’s behalf. His woman needed to surround herself with other strong women.
She tossed her hands over her head, which made him smirk. “Oh fuck, Saint, just be all in or not at all with her.”
He was a bit surprised from her outburst but could appreciate her passion when it came to Bailey. She loved her. All the women did. While Cheyenne’s delivery may have sucked, her heart was in the right place.
He drew in a breath and watched as Cheyenne shrunk away. He leaned closer and lowered his voice.
“I’m all in, Chey.”
Her lips curled up into a grin. “Yeah?”
“I’m all in.”
“This makes me seriously so happy I could kiss you. But Trax would probably get pissed so I won’t.” She laughed. “You’re one of the good ones, Saint.” She winked and turned around, walking back from where she came.
He sighed with a smile and opened the door walking through. He caught the feminine shriek behind him as the door closed. He made his way through the quiet house, only a few brothers drinking at the bar, another two playing pool near the back. He gave a chin jerk greeting and walked the small hall to Kase’s office at the back end of the compound.
He entered through the door, noticing Trax and Rourke sitting down with Gage, Kase, and Dobbs. He made his way to the empty seat at the end of the table and sat, not saying one word.
“’Bout fucking time,” Kase sneered.
Saint stared back at him, settling into his chair. It wasn’t a sanctioned meeting, but he knew Kase wanted to discuss the run for tonight.
“Where the fuck you been?”
“Out.”
“Out? Care to fucking elaborate, brother?”
Saint smirked. “Considering you’re not my keeper? No.”
Kase sighed and shook his head. “At least a little fucking courtesy then, what’s going on tonight? Thought I made myself clear, everyone rides, no exceptions. We need the numbers.”
The run was backing Ghosttown Riders East. It was more for show, though there was a possibility of things turning another way.
“Got a better offer.”
“A cute little redhead make the offer?” Trax asked. Saint caught his smile but didn’t return it. Christ, Cheyenne had a big mouth. Or maybe he hadn’t been as discreet with his attention as he had thought.
“You’re blowing off the fucking run to hang with Bailey?” Kase raised his brows.
“What the fuck? My Bailey?” Dobbs shouted and slammed his hand on the table.
The heat immediately rose from his chest to his neck and he jerked his head to the left, aiming his glare on Dobbs. His Bailey? He clenched his jaw and demanded his body to not react. Every muscle in his body tightened.
“Oh fuck,” Rourke whispered under his breath and stood.
Saint felt the heated rage course through his blood. He was seconds from g
rabbing Dobbs by the neck and throwing him against the wall. She was never his Bailey. Never would be.
Saint had done right by her, as hard as it was. He wasn’t around the last year, and starting something with her wasn’t fair to either of them. It also wasn’t fair to stake claim on a woman he couldn’t be there for. It didn’t stop him from wanting her, though. Even when Kase labeled her as untouchable, it didn’t do anything for Saint’s desire. Nor did it mean shit. He wondered if Kase had knowingly marked her as off-limits for Saint’s benefit. They’d been friends and brothers a long time. Kase, more than anyone, would know where Saint’s mind was at.
“That’s fucked, man,” Dobbs spewed.
No, what was fucked was how Dobbs allowed Bailey to be treated by some skank. He sat back in his seat and folded his hands over his stomach, scowling at Dobbs. He needed to keep his usual cool. Hearing him refer to her as his was setting his anger in motion.
Dobbs narrowed his gaze at Saint. “Since when do we go after other brother’s women, Saint?”
Motherfucker. Saint tightened his jaw, and from the corner of his eye, he watched Kase get up, and Gage veer toward Dobbs. The man, though a brother, was fucking with the wrong man. It seemed everyone in the room knew it, except Dobbs.
“Tell me, Dobbs, exactly when was she your Bailey? When you were balls deep in Kelsey? Or Rose? Or the goddamn cunt who disrespected her?” Saint shot up from his seat.
“Settle down, Saint,” Kase said with an anxious hitch in his tone.
Saint ignored him and continued to glare at Dobbs. “I backed off for over a year, keeping away because I knew with me gone, that shit wasn’t fair to her. You think I didn’t wanna claim her? Make no mistake, brother, Bailey is mine.”
Dobbs scoffed, testing him. It was a wrong move on his part. Saint may be the quietest of the group, but he was certainly the most dangerous.
“Guess the rules don’t apply to you, huh, Saint? Kase told everyone she was off-limits.”
Kase came between them. It was more for Dobbs’ safety than anything else.
“Yeah, fucker, I did. You didn’t seem to follow those orders, did ya?”
Dobbs furrowed his brows and held up his finger. “One fucking kiss.”
Saint’s blood completely boiled. This was news to him. He was under the impression Dobbs invited Bailey to the party but had no idea they had kissed. He shoved Trax out of his way, and Dobbs jumped up from his seat, skirting around the table. He held up his hands.
“Calm the fuck down, Saint.”
Saint pointed across the table at Dobbs. “You will stay clear of Bailey.”
Dobbs seemed to grow a set of balls with the table separating them. “If that’s what she wants. Not you. Her.”
It was taking every ounce of control Saint had not to jump across the table and punch him in his mouth. Bailey didn’t want Dobbs. It was evident from hours earlier, they shared a connection.
Trax moved forward. “C’mon, man, you don’t want Bailey. Back off.”
Dobbs shifted his eyes to Trax and advanced forward around the table. “How the fuck do you know?”
Kase stepped forward, pushing Dobbs back. It was a smart move. Dobbs was tough and a fighter. Still no match for Saint. The closer he got to him the easier it would be for Saint to make a move. Dobbs wouldn’t stand a chance if Saint got to him, and Kase knew it. They all knew.
“Only get one warning,” Saint said.
“Look at me,” Kase demanded Dobbs’ attention.
Dobbs glared at Saint, refusing to break his stare.
“You like her, fuck, we all like her, Dobbs, but you ain’t feeling what Saint is.”
Dobbs shifted his glare to Kase. “How the fuck do you know how I’m feeling?”
“In the last year, how many women you fucked? Twenty, thirty, a hundred?” He waited. When Dobbs didn’t answer, Kase jerked his chin to Saint. “Ask him how many women he’s had since Bailey came on the scene.”
The room fell into complete silence.
“None,” Saint said.
Chapter Eight
Saint pulled into her driveway and parked near the front walkway.
He made his way to her front door and heard the distinct sound of scrambling when he knocked. It took her a minute before answering the door. When she did, it was well worth the wait.
Bailey stood in the doorway, wearing a tight pair of blue pants and a black shirt with a cutout above her breasts, showing a small amount of cleavage. Paired with a thick heel, she stood about two inches taller, which kept her well below his height. Fucking gorgeous with her hair flowing over her shoulders.
“Hi.”
“Bailey.”
She twisted her lips and stepped back, opening the door for his entry. It had been a while since he’d been on a date especially at a woman’s home. Saint had always been selective with the women he chose to spend time with. Unlike his brothers, fucking random women wasn’t his style.
He stepped through the door, carrying a twelve-pack of beer and two bottles of wine. As he made his way inside, he smirked. Until now, he had only seen her kitchen through the back entrance. Her place looked as if she lived there. The furniture was casual and comfortable with a few trinkets lining the shelves. She had a small desk tucked in the corner with a pile of papers. It was orderly enough, as was the entire living room. One thing obviously missing struck him as odd. She circled around him and waved for him to follow.
“Do you wanna put your beer in the fridge?”
He remained in her living room and glanced around.
“Is something wrong?”
He furrowed his brows. “You don’t have a TV?”
She scoured her living room and shrugged. “In the bedrooms. Mine, upstairs with a spare, and then there’s another one off the kitchen.” She clasped her hands, and he was cursing himself for pointing it out. She released a nervous laugh. “My mom always said living rooms were meant for to people to visit.” She shrugged. “Ya know, talk.”
Saint smiled. “Makes sense.”
“Did you wanna watch TV?”
Saint tightened his lips. “Are you inviting me up to your bedroom?”
She raised her brow, and her eyes widened. She didn’t skirt around the question, as he expected. She glanced up at the ceiling and twitched her nose. “Would you say yes if I did?”
Ah, she was playing with fire. “Try me.”
The little tease had proved too much for Bailey. The heat immediately rushed to her cheeks, and her smile was done through shaky lips. She didn’t respond, but he had no doubt she was curious. Bailey ducked her head and walked through the small dining room into the kitchen. Saint followed. The house appeared larger from the outside. It was older, definitely, and original, with only minor updates. It was quaint and had a very warm homey vibe, much like Bailey herself.
Saint put the beer in the fridge, grabbing two, in case she preferred beer over wine. He stood off to the side while she worked around her kitchen in silence. The table was set, which made him smile. It wasn’t fancy, but he noticed the unlit candles in the center. Her mind was exactly where his was. Their first date. She pulled out a large casserole bowl from the oven and closed the door turning to face Saint.
She scratched her head, veering her gaze around the room.
“Smells good,” he said, recognizing her anxious stance across from him.
“I’m not the best cook. Probably should have warned you before I invited you. Um, it’s just Shepard’s pie.” She shrugged and bit her lip. She was nervous. This was not how he wanted to spend their date, with her on edge. He walked over to the table and pulled out his seat and sat.
“I eat a lot of takeout, so anything home-cooked is gonna be great for me, sweetheart.”
She smiled and turned to the oven. “My mom makes it all the time, reminds me of my childhood.” She laughed. “This and SpaghettiOs.”
Saint rested his elbows on the table with a sharp groan. It got her attention, and she glanced ov
er her shoulder.
“You and Cia will get along great. She loves that crap.”
Bailey grinned. “Well, then, your girl’s got good taste, Saint.”
The tension eased off a bit, and Saint settled into his chair, eyeing Bailey. A whole year of waiting, and here he was. With her.
She carried over the plates, setting his down first. He noticed her shaky hand.
She sank into her seat and draped the napkin over her lap and tossed her hair over her shoulder. He caught a small patch of rippled skin just below her collar bone. He glanced away before she caught him. The last thing the night needed was Bailey concerned with hiding her scars from him. She was already nervous enough.
He watched as she gazed up at the table then eyed him through her lashes. He held back his smile. He was reading her self-scolding of not lighting the candles before he arrived. It wasn’t lost on him; the table and the candles were something Bailey put effort into. He wouldn’t have cared if they were eating take out on paper plates in the backyard, but Bailey did. He set his arm on the table and grasped her hand.
Her eyes glanced down then he met her stare.
“Don’t smoke, no lighter on me. You have one or matches?”
The corner of her lip curled, and she slunk away, reaching into a drawer on his left. She walked over with a box of matches which he took from her. He lit the two candles centered on the middle of the table and dropped the box on surface.
He heard her giggle before glancing over to see her red cheeks and half-smile.
“It’s corny, right?”
What? He cocked a brow, unsure of what she was referring to. Her chin lifted toward the center of the table.
“The candles.”
He smiled. “No. Never had a candlelight dinner.” He paused. “It’s very sweet, Bailey.” He glanced away and took a bite from his plate. The second it touched his lips, he knew it would become one of his favorite meals.
“This is good.”
“Yeah? It’s my Dad’s favorite. He calls it the poor man’s meal.”
He snickered, taking another bite. He watched as she stared intently at her plate not taking a bite.
