The plates fall from my hands and I inwardly cringe as they shatter against the floor, creating a mess. If there was ever a time to wish I was Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz, now would be it. I’d give every dollar I have for a pair of ruby slippers, every last buckaroo just to click my heels three times and disappear into thin air. Hell, I’d befriend the nasty witch and let her drop a house on me for shits and giggles so long as it got me the hell away from the three pairs of eyes staring at me.
“Well, that’s one way to greet the man,” Wolf muses cutting through the awkward silence.
My gaze drifts away from my one night stand to the man in charge of the Satan’s Knights.
“I’m so sorry,” I mumble. “I’ll grab some new plates and clean this up right away.”
Any normal person would scurry away to do as she promised, but not me. Nope. Instead, I look back at Bash. His ocean blue eyes lock with mine and flashes of him on top of me assault memory. Every kiss and every thrust of his hips. All the dirty things he whispered in my ear with that thick southern accent. Christ. It’s hot in here.
His lips quirk and I realize I’ve once again fucked up by speaking my thoughts aloud.
“You have a terrible habit of doing that, don’t ya, darlin’?”
I almost want to ask him to clarify if he’s referring to me breaking shit in front of him or thinking out loud. My cheeks heat and I choose to ignore him instead. As I bend to retrieve the broken plates, Bash pushes back his chair. I don’t trust myself to look at him but a second later his boots come into my line of sight as he crouches down in front of me. He starts to help me collect the broken dishes much like he did the night we were together, and I find myself staring at him.
He must sense I’m ogling him because he leans closer and whispers, “We’ve got an annoyance.”
I blink.
“Annoyance?”
“Audience,” he says, slowly enunciating each syllable.
Funny, I had no problem deciphering all the dirty words he whispered to me as he pushed all nine inches of himself inside me.
Fuck, Lydia…do not think about his dick.
Shaking my head, I glance over my shoulder and spy Maria and Wolf at the head of the table curiously looking at the two of us. Forcing a smile, I wave at them like the fool that I am before turning my attention back to Bash. However, I can’t seem to function around the man, and I stare at him some more.
Maybe I’m dreaming.
“Nope,” Bash mutters. “Not a dream.”
“Shit,” I hiss, earning a chuckle from him. He lifts his head and his eyes work me over quickly.
“Don’t look at me like that,” he whispers roughly.
“How am I looking at you?”
“Like you’re picturing me naked.”
I shouldn’t be turned on by that last word. Especially since it sounds like he said neck-ed and not naked, but my mouth hangs open at the assumption and I feel my cheeks flush. Of course, the ever observant servant notices me blushing and tosses me a playful wink. Even when he’s not trying to make me swoon, he does. It’s a problem. A big fucking problem.
“I am not picturing you naked,” I hiss. “I’m wondering what the hell you’re doing here!”
“Yeah, well, that makes two of us,” he mutters, sweeping the little pieces of porcelain into his open palm with his free hand.
“Would you like us to leave you two alone?” Wolf calls from behind us, sounding annoyed. Bash tears his eyes away from me and squares his shoulders back as he looks back to Wolf.
“No, sir,” he replies and quickly rises.
Following his lead, I stand and we both move to the garbage pail to deposit the broken plates. Without another word, Bash takes his seat at the table and I move towards the door. Finding my voice, I glance over my shoulder at Wolf.
“I’m sorry for the mess. I’ll grab some more plates,” I say.
“Why don’t you get back behind the bar,” Maria suggests. “I’ll grab the dishes that way these two can have their discussion without any further interruptions.”
Well I certainly fucked that up, didn’t I?
With a nod and another glance at Bash, I make my way out of the room. I close the door behind me and lean against it, taking a moment to get my thoughts together.
“Surprise!”
Startled by the sound of Riggs’ voice, I jump.
“For fuck’s sake, Riggs, you scared the shit out of me,” I growl. My boss laughs as I shoot him a glare. Crossing his arms in response, he tips his chin towards the door behind me.
“Seeing as you’re basically hyperventilating, it’s fair to assume you’ve checked out our new Knight.” He pauses and wiggles his eyebrows suggestively. “Well, technically you’ve already checked him out. Hell, you test drove that motherfucker, didn’t you?”
The color drains from my face and my lips part in shock.
“You didn’t just say that,” I admonish.
“Too far?”
“Um, yeah,” I say, pushing off the door. It’s not the first time he’s taunted me since he caught me and Bash in the act and I’m sure now that Bash is back in New York, it won’t be the last.
“Can we please forget that happened?”
“Probably not,” he admits. “But maybe now that Bash is gonad be staying here you two can fuck around behind closed doors…you know so we can prevent me from seeing you two doing the nasty again.”
“That was a onetime thing,” I defend although I’m certain I’m the only one buying my bullshit. I haven’t been able to shake Bash since he picked his jeans up off the floor and strutted out the door after delivering me a marathon of orgasms. I also may have mentioned him a time or two since he left and let me not forget how badly I felt after I overheard his mom died. I immediately asked Riggs for his phone number and against my better judgment I sent him a text, offering my condolences.
Wait.
Did he say Bash is staying here?
“I’m sure that’s what you both thought especially since he was wearing that Charon patch, but in case you didn’t notice that’s gone now, babe. Ain’t no black and white threads on that vest,” he points out.
“What does that mean?”
“It means your boy Bash is the newest prospect of the Satan’s Knights.”
Holy shit.
Before I can reply the door behind me opens. I nearly fall backward but Riggs is quick with his reflexes and reaches out to grab my arm before I collide with Maria. Finding my balance, I turn to apologize again but she closes the door and looks at Riggs.
“That might be a little premature,” she says, clearly overhearing Riggs’ comment.
Releasing my arm, he narrows his eyes.
“Why do you say that?”
“That man in there is lost,” she says, shrugging her shoulders. “He doesn’t know what he wants.” Her gaze flits to me for a second and I swear there is a warning somewhere in those brown eyes. The urge to tell her she misread what she saw in that room sits on my tongue. I was simply caught off guard. There is nothing between me and Bash. Well, nothing but a single night of incredible sex. It would be just my luck that the first time I do something reckless and spontaneous it goes and bites me in the ass. I mean, one night stands are supposed to be fun. Uncomplicated. The concept is simple. You get off and you move on, never to see or hear from the person again.
“He’s jet-lagged is all,” Riggs tells her.
“No, he’s grieving,” she corrects. “If you people weren’t so damn concerned about the patch, you’d see it for yourself. But since this whole thing transpired with the cartel, you’re all too busy preparing for a hypothetical war to notice anything.”
“Look at you,” Riggs quips. “Talking like a true owl’ lady.”
“Call me that again and I’ll pull out my frying pan,” she sneers before turning on her heel.
Maria is not like the other women in the club. Where they dress in jeans and leather to match their men, she dresses in des
igner shoes and soft silk. She’s all class and at first, I wondered what a woman like her was doing with the likes of Wolf. Then I witnessed them in action together. Opposites don’t just attract, they flourish too. Maria and Wolf bring out the best in one another. What one lacks, the other exceeds. If I was a girl who believed in crazy things like love, I’d go the same route and scour the planet for someone completely opposite of me.
Someone who wasn’t afraid to take risks.
Someone quiet yet observant.
A person who noticed the small stuff.
Every flaw and insecurity.
All the cracks.
Someone who preferred imperfections because that’s the only type of person who could ever love me.
And maybe, just maybe, he’d have a southern accent.
But I’m not crazy.
I don’t believe in love.
Hell, after today I don’t even believe in one night stands anymore.
Maria stops in the middle of the hallway and glances at me over her shoulder.
“Are you on strike or something?”
“Don’t mind her,” Riggs says, giving me a nudge. “She’s been Basified.”
“Oh, good God,” Maria sighs. “Get the stars out of your eyes, Lydia. He’s just a man. A pretty man, I’ll give you that but, trust me, he’s not going to stick around, and you’ll thank me when he’s boarding a flight back to Texas. Now, get back to work. Nico called out again…”
I roll my eyes. Not because Nico is an idiot who has yet to work a full shift since we both started working here, but because of Maria’s assumptions. One, I don’t have stars in my eyes. Two, she was in that room a minute more than I was. It’s impossible for her to know what Bash’s plans are. Especially when she’s so sure he doesn’t even know his plans.
“She’s good at reading people,” Riggs says.
“Did I say that out loud?” I groan.
“Yeah,” he replies, keeping his gaze on Maria as she walks away. Once she’s out of sight, he turns his attention back to me. “She’s right though,” he continues. “He is lost. I knew that and still, I coerced him to come here, but not because the club needs men. Listen Lydia, I know you two barely know each other outside the bedroom…wait…did you guys even make it to a bedroom?”
“Riggs!”
“Right, too far. Anyway, as I was saying, you don’t gotta pick up where you left off. In fact, I think it’s probably best if you don’t. He’s got some shit to work through and you, you need to get a filter or something for that mouth of yours. But there ain’t no harm in befriending him. I think he could use a few of those more than anything.”
I think about that for a minute. I don’t know much about Bash aside from the fact he rides a motorcycle, and he just lost his mom a few days ago. But I know loss. I know grief too and it sucks. It fucking blows, though, if you don’t have anyone in your corner. So, if Bash decides to stick around, I can probably get on board with being his friend. I mean I could probably use one of those too.
So what if said friend fucked me senseless.
Bygones will be bygones.
“You really need to stop talking,” Riggs says with a laugh.
Closing my eyes, I ball my fists and groan.
“I did it again, didn’t I?”
“Yeah, you did.”
Subconsciously, I click my Chucks together and surprise, surprise…I don’t disappear.
Better luck next time, Dorothy.
-Three-
Bash
Wolf remained quiet after Maria and Lydia cleared the room and so did I. I’m sure there were a bunch of smartass remarks he was dying to deliver, especially after seeing me and the pretty bartender together, but he decided to keep them to himself. It’s a good thing too, considering I was still reeling from the exchange.
Seeing Lydia recharged something dead inside of me and for those few minutes, I forgot how fucked I truly was. I didn’t feel the weight of my grief or the indecisiveness that seemed to be consuming me. In her presence and under the intensity of her heated gaze, I was just Bash. There was no worry over colors and clubs. I could give a fuck less if I became a Charon or a Knight. All I cared about was being the guy who pushed Lydia’s buttons and uncovered the secrets flashing behind those emerald colored eyes of hers.
Maria returned shortly with two dishes and some cutlery, but quickly excused herself, leaving Wolf to plate the food. Once he piled a mountain of spaghetti and meatballs in front of me, he fixed his own dish, adding a massive amount of grated cheese to the already rich food. Apparently, Riggs wasn’t the only one obsessed with filling his belly. The Satan’s Knights liked to eat and when they ate, they ate good.
“Mangia,” he ordered, as he lifted a forkful of pasta and twirled it against a spoon. I thought it was odd but then I saw how neatly the pasta wound around the fork, making it easier to eat and I realized it was fucking genius. There would be no slurping noodles here. It was like he was an expert spaghetti eater or something.
Eating pasta was out of my realm of expertise, so I forked off a piece of meatball instead. One bite and I was transcended to Heaven. Now, here I am, two meatballs later, trying the fork and spoon trick while Wolf goes for seconds.
“Here, have another meatball,” he says as he drops another ball of deliciousness onto my plate.
“Thank you,” I reply, finally getting the pasta in my mouth.
“It’s good, no?”
“Amazing,” I answer honestly.
“You can’t get this kinda food in Texas,” he points out, leaning back in his chair. “This sauce here is made with fresh tomatoes. Tomatoes I planted myself.”
I could argue the fact he can’t get a Texas T-bone here in New York, but I decide not to poke the beast. After all, he’s only trying to sway me to stick around and I’m starting to think that’s an honor.
“You don’t strike me as a farmer,” I say instead.
“Don’t let the leather fool you, son. I’m a jack of all trades.”
The fork pauses at my lips as I try to picture the man wrestling a tomato plant. I reckon that’s a sight for sore eyes.
“My dad was Italian,” I share, even though the mention of my old man turns my stomach. “My last name is Alfonsi.”
His lips quirk.
“Get the fuck out of here,” he muses. “My first name is Alfonse.”
“No kidding?” I ask, lifting an eyebrow. He leans forward and reaches into his back pocket, producing a wad of cash held together by a rubber band. Sliding the band onto his wrist, he filters through the bills until he finds his driver’s license. Smacking it on top of the table, he nudges it towards me with his finger.
Not only is his name Alfonse, but apparently Wolf has dropped a couple of pounds since he took his license photo. The man looks a cool two-seventy in the picture. Must be all the tomatoes.
“I don’t bullshit, kid. Not about my name and not about my intentions. I sense your hesitation and I think it has more to do with you feeling like you’re dishonoring Scout in some way than anything else. So, here’s what I’m going to do. I told him I’d give you a place to crash and I’m a man of my word.”
“I appreciate that, sir—”
“I’m not done yet,” he interjects, fixing me with a hard stare. “As long as you’re here, you’ll be a prospect. We’ve got a couple of spare bikes down at Pipe’s garage. Have Riggs take you down there and see which one suits you best. Unless of course, you have plans on transporting your wheels here.”
“Not at the moment,” I reply hoarsely. Everything seems to be happening so quickly. One minute I’m standing in the funeral home picking out a casket, the next I’m sitting here wondering how I’m supposed to transport my bike if I decide to stay in New York. Let me not mention the part where in between all that I’m pondering what my next move should be with the wildcat bartender.
“Alright, well should you decide our arrangement is a good fit, we’ll work on getting your shit here. I’ll send y
ou back home with a couple of guys to pack up your mother’s belongings too. Whatever you need.”
There’s something about his offer and the manner of which he presents it. He’s very self-assured and if I had to make a wager, I’d bet he didn’t get that president patch ignoring the problems of the club. In fact, I think its Wolf’s nature to fix the broken. Maybe that’s why he’s so keen on having me here.
Pushing the thought aside, I clear my throat.
“And should I decide to go back home?”
“You won’t,” he smirks as he snatches his license from the table. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t envy his confidence. “Tell me something, kid, why do you go by the name Bash?”
A groan escapes me and instinctively I pull the brim of my baseball cap lower.
“When Scout first recruited me, the brothers ragged on me for being shy around the ladies. They called me bashful which is ridiculous seeing as I’ve probably had more women then all of them combined, I’m by no means…what do you Yankees call it, a player? Yeah, that’s not my style, but like the Knights, most of the Charon men got themselves a ball and chain. Me, on the other hand, well, I guess I haven’t found the right one, yet.”
“Bashful like Snow White and the seven trolls,” Wolf muses. “I bet you’re having a whole lot of fun finding the diamond in the rough though, huh?” he questions, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.
“I think you mean dwarfs, but yeah, like that,” I say before shrugging my shoulders and answering the second part of his question. “It’s fun for a while, but most nights it feels like work. I think there’s something to be said about coming home to the same woman every night, knowing she’s waiting for you and only you.”
“Best feeling in the world,” he replies. “Want a piece of advice?”
I nod.
“Don’t rush into finding her. It took me three tries and truth be told, I gave up on finding the perfect woman. Little did I know, she was right under my nose. I guess I was looking in all the wrong places,” he says thoughtfully. A second later, he releases a sigh and points to the empty spot on my kutte where my name patch should be and continues.
“I suppose it could be worse. They could’ve nicknamed ya Dopey.”
Shifting Gears (Satan's Knights Prospect Trilogy Book 1) Page 3
