Anna looks contemplative. “One favor. The winner gets one favor from each of the losers.”
“Like a marker?” Lana asks, smirking. “You’ve been hanging around bikers too long.”
Anna rolls her eyes. “Look who’s talking. Come on, with the amount of shit we get into, these will be useful.”
“And will probably get you into trouble with your men,” I add casually.
At least it will if I win.
We all look at each other and nod.
Game on.
* * *
When Adam comes to the door to pick up the girls, I’m not surprised. While having him in my space makes me feel a tad uneasy, the fact that he’s the one who came definitely works to my advantage.
“You want me to do what?” he asks, eyeing us all individually, then staring skeptically at the three glasses in front of him. When he first hesitantly stepped into my house, he looked around, taking in the place. Now, however, he has an Are you fucking kidding me? look on his face, one I shouldn’t find sexy. But I do. In fact, his adorably confused expression makes me almost want to forget that I hate him and fall into his arms. Almost.
“Fuck. I feel like I’m back in high school. You’re all fuckin’ nuts,” he says, running his hand over his jawline. I see the way his lips twitch though, and I know he’s finding this amusing as hell. So we ignore his complaints and just stare at him expectantly.
“What did you guys bet?” he asks, gaze lingering on me before picking up the first glass.
“Don’t you worry about that,” Anna says in a saccharine sweet tone. “It’s between us women. Just take a sip of each, you don’t have to drink the whole thing.”
“Like I would,” he growls, then takes a sip of the pink liquid. I watch his throat work as he swallows, then he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. He places the glass down, then picks up the second one, which is mine. The orange liquid swishes around the rim of the glass as he takes a small sip, then a bigger one. I try to hide my smile, knowing that there is no way I’m losing this stupid, childish, yet hilarious bet. The third glass is Lana’s. Adam sips it, then puts it down, making a face. He points to my glass. “This one is hands down the best.”
Anna and Lana yell “Come on!” and other shouts of complaint while Adam and I just watch each other. Amusement dances in his eyes, and he knows that I know exactly what he likes, and I used it to my advantage.
“Hope you won something good,” he rumbles, then looks toward the hallway. “Where’s Cara?”
Why did he want to know?
“Asleep,” I reply a little hesitantly. “She’s fast asleep.”
He nods once, then looks away, giving me an unguarded moment to stare at his handsome profile. His five o’clock shadow has me wanting to run my fingers over his cheeks and his jaw. He’s the same, but he isn’t. More angled. More ripped. He’s harder. And not just on the outside.
What has your life been like, Adam?
“Women, let’s go,” he says, looking around my living room once more. “I’m hungry. I say we stop for food.”
“Bailey made us the best dinner,” Anna tells him. “You would have loved it.”
He mutters something under his breath, then walks outside. I guess he’s done waiting.
Anna and Lana both hug me at the same time, and I wrap an arm around each of them.
“I’ll see you soon?” I ask quietly, looking from one to the other.
They both assure me that they will.
I’m glad, because now that I have them back, I don’t think I can lose them again.
Rake
I walk outside and check out the front of Bailey’s house, not feeling satisfied with the level of her security. Pretty much anyone could break in, so I make a mental note to sort it out.
Her house, it’s so her. Warm and inviting. Cozy. And she cooked for them.
I scrub my hand down my face. Am I feeling jealous because she cooked for them and I didn’t get anything?
Yeah, I fuckin’ am.
Everyone gets her, except me. And I’m the one who knows how amazing she is to be around.
I’m losing my shit.
Anna and Lana say their good-byes, laughing and carrying on. I move so Bailey’s door is in my line of sight, and get one last peek at her before she closes the door.
“Can you two hurry up?” I grumble as they take their sweet time getting into the four-wheel drive.
“Why are you so grumpy?” my sister asks, sliding into the passenger seat.
“I’m hungry,” I tell her. “Not all of us have eaten.”
“So let’s stop somewhere on the way,” she suggests, studying me. “Are you sure that’s the only reason you look like someone stole your motorcycle?”
I throw her a warning look, which she heeds, turning to stare out the window.
I put on some music and drive to the diner to grab some food.
It doesn’t taste as good as I know Bailey’s would.
SEVEN
Bailey
I FEEL like my life is a series of awkward events,” Tia says as she blows on her coffee the next morning.
“What happened now?” I ask, running my fingers through my hair, trying to tame it a little. It was the next afternoon, and we’d both just gotten home from work. Our kids were doing their homework in Cara’s room together.
“Dentist guy asked me out on a date,” she grumbles.
I gasp. “You said no, right?”
Tia worked as a dental assistant, so going out with essentially her boss would be a pretty stupid fucking idea.
“Of course I said no,” she says, waving her hand in the air. “So we just had sex on the patient chair instead.”
My jaw drops open. Did she just say. . . ? “Tia, what the hell were you thinking? So now you have to face him? It’s going to be awkward as hell.”
“It won’t be that awkward for me,” she says, sipping her coffee casually. “I’d be more embarrassed if I were him, and had a penis that small.”
I cover my face with my hands. “You didn’t tell him that, did you? Because if you did, you’re probably currently unemployed.”
“No, of course I didn’t. I’m not that mean. I was all . . . ‘Oooh your cock makes my mouth water’ and afterward, I even pretended to be sore.”
Oh my god.
I blink slowly a few times, processing this extreme amount of too much information. “How are we friends?”
Tia laughs, her blue eyes sparkling with humor. “Because of the no-judgment clause in our friendship agreement.”
My lips twitch at that. “You aren’t going to sleep with him again are you? It’s the worst idea you’ve had, and you’ve had many. You’re not supposed to shit where you eat.”
She wrinkles her nose. “Is that a real saying?”
“Yes.”
She sighs, putting down her mug. “I told you, he has the tiniest penis, so no, I won’t be going there again. It looked small in his pants, but I thought that maybe he was a grower, not a shower, you know? But he’s neither.”
I want to laugh at the look on her face. She looks so sad about the whole thing. “It happens. Maybe he’s a really nice guy. Or maybe he’s good with his hands and mouth. You can’t be penis racist. Penis discrimination! It’s a thing.”
She rolls her eyes. “Everyone has things they aren’t willing to compromise on. For some it might be height, or money, or whatever; for me it is penis size. Don’t judge me, Bailey, just accept me as I am. And for the record, he isn’t talented with his hands or mouth either. I usually find men are either good at fucking or with their hands or mouth—either or. But this guy wasn’t good at anything. Such a shame.”
I try to contain my laughter but fail this time. “You’re fucking hilarious. I don’t have a deal-breaker thing, I don’t think.”
“Yes, you do,” she replies drolly. “It’s height. You never go near short guys. That’s your thing.”
“Well, aside from that, I’m not s
hallow!” I reply a little defensively. Yeah, I wasn’t feeling the short-guy thing. I was about five feet seven inches and I wanted a guy who was at least six foot.
Adam is about six three, my mind reminds me.
Yeah, true. But he’s also an egotistical asshole.
“I bet Adam has a huge cock. Doesn’t he? You can tell me. I won’t announce it on social media like I did with the dentist,” she says, wiggling her eyebrows.
Did I mention his name out loud? I don’t think I did. It must be a coincidence she said his name as I thought it. Only then do I realize what Tia just said.
I gasp. “You didn’t!
She shrugs.
Christ, this woman!
“Does he? Spill!” she almost yells.
I puff out a breath, an image of Adam’s cock filling my mind.
Long, thick.
Fucking perfect.
“Yeah,” I admit sullenly. “It’s the prettiest cock I’ve ever seen in my life.”
The man could be a porn star if he wanted to.
Like Bruce Venture.
Okay, no one’s penis is that nice.
“I knew it!” she says, slamming her palm down on the table. “Maybe I need to get me one of those bikers.”
I’d normally advise against something like that, but Anna and Lana seem happy enough.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Sure,” she replies. “What’s up?”
“When Adam took me back to his clubhouse on his motorcycle that night he made a comment about the ‘old Bailey’ and pretty much said I used to be up for anything, which was true. I had a wild streak a mile long and was always up for an adventure. Do you think I’m boring? I know having Cara changed my outlook on the world, but that didn’t mean I had to change who I was, you know?”
Her eyes soften on me. “Bailey, you were a young mother, managing on your own. You had to be responsible. And I don’t think you’re boring at all; you’re a wonderful woman and a great mother. Just because you paused before jumping on the back of a motorcycle with your ex doesn’t make you boring, it makes you smart.”
I nod. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”
“Mom, I finished reading my book,” Cara says, walking into the kitchen. “There was one word I didn’t know, so Rhett helped me.”
“Good girl. What was the word?” I ask her as she sits down in between me and Tia.
“Enormous,” she says, holding her hands out wide.
Tia and I quickly glance at each other.
And then burst out laughing.
* * *
“Remember the time we rented that hotel room out and you flooded it?” Anna says to me. It was time for our monthly catch-up, and this time we were having dinner at an Italian restaurant after seeing a movie at the cinemas.
“Why do all the stories about me come out?” I grumble, poking my pasta with my fork.
Anna laughs, closing her eyes. “We were drinking gin with orange juice. I remember because we were singing that rap song that goes with it.”
Lana covers her mouth with her hand. “Didn’t she pass out in the shower? Blocking the shower drain?”
Anna nods. “Yeah, we woke up to soggy carpets. We had to pay a shitload.”
I cringe. “I’ve never drunk gin again, to this day. Besides, Anna, that whole hotel setup was so you could hook up with that guy you liked without Adam finding out.”
“Which he found out anyway,” Lana adds, eyes twinkling.
“If he hadn’t joined the Wind Dragons, he should have been in the FBI,” Anna grumbles, sitting back and rubbing her full tummy. “I think I need a break before dessert.”
Lana looks up from her meal, eyes on the door. “Looks like we have some gate-crashers.”
I follow her line of sight to see Arrow and Tracker walking up to us. With them is a guy I don’t remember seeing before, with dark hair and a scar slashed down his jaw and neck. Arrow walks straight up to Anna and kisses her hungrily in front of everyone, not caring who sees. Tracker lifts Lana in the air and sits down in her chair, putting her on his lap. He then too kisses her like they’re both alone. The other man sits next to me and smiles, flashing straight, white teeth. I think the smile is meant to reassure me, but to be honest, it kind of scares me.
“I’m Irish,” he says, tilting his head to the side. “Looks like it’s just you and me tonight.”
I glance at Anna, who rolls her eyes. “Irish, don’t scare her. Bailey, ignore him.”
Shifting in my seat, I feel a little uncomfortable. If I’d known I was going to be a third wheel tonight, I wouldn’t have come out.
“What are you guys doing here?” Lana asks Tracker, making me feel better that they didn’t know the men were going to show up.
“We were on our way to Rift, wanted to know if you all wanted to come,” Tracker says, nuzzling Lana’s cheek.
Irish moans. “Just tell them to come and let’s go. I need a fuckin’ drink.”
The women both look at me. I guess they’re letting it be my choice.
“Pretty sure Adam told me never to step back into that place,” I mutter, crossing my arms over my chest.
“Adam?” Irish asks, looking confused. “Ohhh. Rake. Why doesn’t he want you there? You’re a sexy woman. He should be all over that shit.”
“Been there,” Tracker says, looking amused.
I throw him a dirty look, for which he replies with a wink.
Irish puts up his hand. “Wait a damn second. Rake has fucked her and doesn’t want her at the club? Which means . . .”
“He actually cares about a woman other than our women? Yeah,” Tracker says, grinning wolfishly. “Another one bites the motherfuckin’ dust.”
I shake my head. “How does his not wanting me there mean he cares? That makes no sense.”
“Makes perfect sense,” Arrow says in that gruff, deep voice of his. “If he didn’t care, he wouldn’t give two fucks about where you showed up.”
I roll my eyes. “You’re wrong. And it doesn’t matter. Is he going to be there? If he isn’t, I’ll come; otherwise you guys can go and I’ll take a cab home.”
Tracker studies me, a little too closely for my liking. He pulls out his phone, hits a number, then puts his phone to his ear. “Rake. Where are you, brother?”
He listens, then replies, “I want to take the women to Rift with me. That gonna be an issue?”
Tracker glances at me then, those blue eyes looking directly into mine.
“Yeah, I’ve got you. All right. ’Bye.”
“Well?” Anna asks, looking at him expectantly.
Tracker grins at Anna. “All good, Anna Bell, so we going or what?”
Irish puts his arm around me. He smells good, like leather and mint. “We’re in, right? Let’s go. My dick is hard and I need to find someone to take care of it. Unless Bailey is offering?”
“Ummm. Yeah, probably not,” I mutter, taking his arm off me and standing. “I guess we’re going dancing.”
“Don’t say probably,” Lana suggests, narrowing her eyes on Irish. “Say no. They don’t take subtle hints; you need to be firm. Let him know you’re not playing games, which is what most women try to do with him.”
I look at Irish, who is busy flashing Lana an amused look at her analysis.
“Irish,” I say, getting his attention. “No way in hell will I ever be taking care of your dick. I don’t care how hard it is. Guess we better go to Rift so you can find a substitute.”
Everyone except Irish laughs.
Lana nods in approval.
Rift, here we come.
EIGHT
WHAT’S your real name?” I ask Irish, watching as he sips his beer. I pick up my Coke and take a sip, waiting for him to answer. There’s no way I’m drinking tonight, not when Cara has dance class in the morning.
“What makes you think it’s not Irish?”
I make a face. “My common sense?”
He smirks, then licks his lips. “How about a
kiss? I’ll tell you then.”
I purse my lips and wrinkle my nose. “I already fell for that one with Talon.”
Irish scowls, his fingers tightening on his bottle. “You kissing men from other clubs now? Where’s the loyalty, Bailey?”
“I don’t belong to anyone, and I wouldn’t have even met any other bikers if it wasn’t for Anna and Lana, so you take that up with them,” I reply in a curt tone. Speaking of . . . I look to see both of them on the dance floor with their men. Arrow isn’t dancing, just watching Anna shaking her ass in front of him, but Tracker’s grinding behind Lana, pressing his penis against her ass.
Not one shit is given.
“What happened to you finding a woman?” I ask when he says nothing further on that topic.
“I’m looking,” he says, lips twitching. “I take my time, look around. See what the night has to offer.”
“And then?”
“And then if someone catches my eye, I’ll make my move,” he replies. “If I have to go home alone, I will, rather than lower my standards. I don’t own any beer goggles, unlike most men.”
I put my drink down on the table. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re an asshole?”
“All the time.”
“So what happens after you’ve screwed her? Bone and bail? Even though she apparently meets your very high standards?” I ask, tapping my short red fingernails on the bar.
He shrugs and tilts his head back, downing his drink.
Jerk.
“Have you heard of the term fuckboy? There’s some new lingo for you,” I continue, standing up from the barstool when I hear “One Last Time” by Ariana Grande play.
“Not a boy, lady,” Irish replies gruffly. “I’m a man. I don’t play games. Women know what they’re getting with us: there are no lies or pretty words involved. And when I meet the woman who’s meant to be mine, I will treat her like a fuckin’ queen. Until then though, everything is a game.”
I nod my head, acknowledging that as the truth. “You’re right, I guess.”
Besides, who am I to judge?
I turn my head back to the dance floor, mouthing the lyrics to the song. Anna spoke to the DJ, who started suddenly playing songs I can’t imagine bikers liking. The way Irish cringes tells me that I’m right. I love how the men give in to the women, at least over things like this. And it’s the little things that matter.
Rake's Redemption (Wind Dragons Motorcycle Club) Page 6
