by Drew Elyse
There was also, admittedly, the fact that our heart to heart about loss in the toddler area of Chuck E. Cheese was not the last such conversation.
However, I wasn’t convinced either of us were altogether capable of anything beyond casual, so I was sticking firm to that definition of our relationship.
“Laying claim, Razzle Dazzle?”
I snorted. “Razzle Dazzle?”
“What’d you thing Daz was short for?” Doc shot back.
“Honestly, I hadn’t really thought about it.”
Doc dropped into a chair at the table and kicked up his feet on the seat of another.
“You want to tell the tale?” he asked Daz.
Daz didn’t respond, just glared at him.
Doc waved his hand holding the sticky bun with flourish. “Our story begins—”
“Jesus. I went down on a chick who had a bedazzled pussy. She failed to fucking mention the shit came off and stuck to my face before I went out into the clubhouse lounge,” Daz cut him off.
For a second, I had nothing. I just stood right where I was, staring at him. At some level, I was waiting for him to throw in the, “Gotcha!” That couldn’t really be it.
Except it was. It so was, and that was all over his face.
The laughter exploded out of me, and I stumbled back into the counter. It was all I could do not to fall and crack my head open on the tile. I tried holding onto the edge behind me, but my legs gave out, so I sunk down onto the floor, tears escaping.
“So fuckin’ funny,” Daz muttered.
Daz.
I wasn’t sure I’d ever be able to call him that again.
I didn’t know how long I was just sitting on the kitchen floor laughing, but he clearly got tired of it.
“Seriously?”
“Ra-ra-razzle dazzle,” I choked out, setting myself off further.
I was still chuckling, but had enough wherewithal to watch as Daz ran a hand through his scruffy hair. He was in nothing but a pair of pajama pants—something he’d had to find in the depths of his room. It seemed he hadn’t been overly cautious about walking around in various states of undress when it was just other brothers living here. One of the Disciples’ women and her daughter had lived here at one point though, so he did own things he could slip on to cover himself.
“You’re lucky your laugh is fucking cute and you make delicious shit all the time,” he said it like a warning, but his eyes were dancing. He might not have loved the origin of the name, but he had enough of a sense of humor to take it. He even came over to help me up once I was all chuckled out.
“Right, now that I’ve been fed and provided that public service, I’ve got places to be,” Doc announced. “You bringin’ her next weekend?”
Daz jerked his chin up in what seemed to be an affirmative, to which Doc nodded and took off.
Seriously, these guys were not great with goodbyes. I realized they were bikers, but it was weird when people just walked away or hung up.
“What’s next weekend?” I asked when he was gone.
“Party at the clubhouse,” Daz explained.
“For?”
He looked at me like it was an outlandish idea for there to be a reason for a party.
“It's summer. We can be outside, fire up the smoker, no better reason than that.”
Well, that seemed fair.
“What about work?”
He shrugged, turning to the sink to wash the brown sugar mess from his hands. “We take you off the schedule.”
“Not sure my boss will like me bailing on work to party,” I teased.
He shot me a look over his shoulder I didn’t understand. “Figure we ought to start thinking about taking you off the stage entirely. You’ve got enough shit to handle without having to budget time in for that.”
Wow. It was happening. This was what I’d been working toward.
Yet, I hesitated. Not because I didn’t want it. I just wasn’t really sure I did have enough work to justify it. Most nights, when the shop was actually open, I was just around on the off chance something happened. It was just as easy to do that while working a few songs.
“We’ll have to figure out who else could do a headlining spot on weekends. Maybe need to see about hiring on another dancer, but it could work,” Daz went on, already planning this out.
“I…”
He was facing me then, rubbing his hands on a dishcloth before dropping it in a heap that wouldn’t allow it to dry on the counter. “Unless you want to keep dancing. Your call. Just an idea.”
It was cavalier, yet felt disingenuous. There was a tension to his frame, a definition to his jaw that was more prominent than usual.
Did he want me off the stage?
“I'd be happy to stop dancing,” I told him honestly.
He nodded. “Then we’ll make that happen.”
Simple as that.
Still, I feared I was moving up because I was sleeping with the boss, not because of my hard work—something I’d always sworn I would never do.
Well, shit.
I’d just finished a full shift, and one that had tested my limits at that. Every time I turned around, someone needed something from me. Meanwhile, I still had to get on stage a few times, which gave them time to come up with more shit to need from me. After the night I’d had, I was considering myself crazy for having the thought earlier that morning that there wasn’t enough for me to do. There was plenty.
When I pulled up to my house, Daz was waiting by the front door.
This wasn’t a very common occurrence for the nights we were together. His sister-in-law, Kate, was still—understandably—not doing well. From my understanding, she rarely left the house, despite the fact that Daz never used the SUV unless he had Owen with him. She also had recently taken an alarming turn to forgetting things. These “things” included showering or eating if she wasn’t reminded. None of this touched her son. Owen was cared for like all was right with the world, and this was mostly by Kate. Daz helped out, but he was firm on the fact that this was far from him doing the majority of the work.
It was just herself Kate wasn’t seeing to.
“Thought I’d started to break through with her,” Daz had told me one evening while I was making Roy’s wife’s birthday cake. “But she’s right back to the ghost she was before I brought them to Hoffman.”
I wanted to offer some sage advice, but I had nothing. I knew what she was feeling. I’d wanted to check out when I lost Gran. But I understood better how Daz felt, because it hadn’t been an option. I’d never let myself fall completely to pieces, so I had no clue how he was meant to help her put them all back together.
By him texting saying he was going to meet me at my place, I’d thought that meant Kate was having a good night. By the tension lining his features as my headlights shone over him, that was not the case.
When I was out of my car and approaching him, I noticed the vase of flowers on the step. Guessing they weren’t from Daz, since he wasn’t holding them and I had no clue how he’d transport them on his bike, this would make them the third delivery.
I’d tried denial, but it was past that point. This was a statement.
“Yeah, those were there when I got here,” he said, noting where my attention was. There was a bite to his words. Were those vibes of being pissed about the flowers?
I picked them up, not sure what to say about it. Did I tell him I had my suspicions about where they were coming from, about what all those mystery calls to the shop were about? Or did I leave him out of it since we weren’t really together? I didn’t think complicated exes were part of the fuck-buddy territory.
Besides, it would be a pain, but I could handle Aaron. I had before.
Of course, he was back, which hadn’t been part of the plan.
Unlocking the door and letting us both in, I went right to the kitchen counter to unload the vase. When I turned back, Daz was glaring at it.
“Not liking some asshole sending you flow
ers. Thought we agreed to just each other?”
If it had just been the hint of jealousy, I would have let it go, but the accusation in his tone fired me up.
“You think I’m fucking around on you?”
His hand swung out to point toward the flowers and he didn't say a damn thing.
“They’re flowers! They aren’t a naked man in bed with me,” I snapped. “Did it even occur to you that maybe I got them for myself?”
He didn’t back down at that suggestion at all. “Did you?”
“No,” I admitted, and he seemed to only get more pissed that I’d brought up that totally inconsequential point.
“So, some asshole is sending you flowers, what the fuck am I supposed to think?”
He could not be believed. “Maybe think about the fact that we’ve been carrying on like this for a solid month, and we might not be all hearts and flowers, but I feel like I’ve at least earned a little fucking trust.”
“Took just as much trust on my end to do away with the condoms as it did you,” he pointed out. “Never trusted a woman I was with that much.”
Was he serious? Did he think I was going to try to get myself knocked up by him? Or was he implying that I was the one in whatever the fuck we were doing here that was more likely to have some STD to pass along?
I couldn’t deal. Throwing my bag down, I kicked off my shoes, then stomped down the hall. I tried counting to ten, but only made it to two before I heard Daz’s steps pounding after mine, cutting off my attempt to calm down. I made it to the bathroom, hit the light, and was securing my hair in a messy bun when he appeared in the doorway and caged me in, his arms up and hands curled around the doorframe.
“Move,” I demanded.
“Who are the flowers from?”
Looking him right in the eye, I deadpanned, “The other guy I’m fucking. I thought we established that.”
“Don’t fuck with me, Avery,” he warned, but I didn’t care to heed it. “Who are they from?”
Instead of responding, I just stared back at his face, watching the frustration bleed into fury. The hardness took away all of the mischievous light that was Daz. It was like someone else entirely was standing in front of me.
Then, he reared back and slammed his hand against the doorframe. I jumped.
“Who are they from?” he demanded.
“I don’t know!” I shot back. It wasn’t a lie. I couldn’t know for sure, even if I had a pretty strong suspicion. “I think it might be an ex. But the ones before didn’t have a card.”
Daz was moving before I finished explaining, and then I was flush against the wall with his body holding me there.
“Daz,” I breathed out, but his mouth descended before I could say anything else.
His kiss was rough, like a punishment for making him feel that way. It lasted until my lungs began to burn, then he ripped his head away.
“We both know this shit isn’t just sex. Hasn’t been for a while. I don’t do this shit. I never fuckin’ have. Got no clue where it’ll go, but I think it's best we admit this is about more than not fuckin’ other people so we don’t have to deal with condoms.”
He was right. I didn’t do this either. Not anymore. It was too messy, too dramatic. But we were already mired in messy and dramatic either way.
So, I nodded.
“We’ll figure it out as we go,” he stated.
I could live with that.
“Okay,” I agreed.
“Okay.”
Then, without further analyzing or discussing, he picked me up, his hands under my ass, and took me to the bedroom to commence the part of “this” we knew how to handle. The part we already understood.
It was also different, because admitting that step in the midst of our first fight allowed us to try something new: make-up sex.
Totally worth fighting for.
We pulled into the forecourt in front of the clubhouse. Even from around front, I could smell the food cooking away in the smoker. Fuck, I loved summer. Perfect weather for being out on the bike, a gorgeous woman behind me, her long ass legs bare, and an afternoon of great food and beer with my brothers.
There was nothing better.
From the look of the bikes, the couple cars I knew belonged to the crew who had kids, and Ember’s sweet hot rod, everyone was already here.
Well, everyone but Kate and Owen. She’d told me they would come by, but she’d been cagey about when before I left to grab Avery and go for a ride. I was hoping they’d still make an appearance. There were people here who wanted to get to know them and welcome them into the fold. They wanted to treat her like family, if she’d give them the chance.
Avery immediately got off and started straightening out her clothes and pulling her hair down from the ponytail she’d put it in. I looked her over as she did, thinking just her releasing all that hair was a show worth paying for. She was dressed up. Nothing crazy, it was just that I’d realized recently that when she wasn’t done up to be on stage, Avery was all about comfort. Which was fine by me because that usually meant shit like yoga pants that molded to her ass.
She had on a pair of jean shorts that made her legs look fucking fantastic and went up to her waist. The shirt she had on stopped where the jeans began and was all lace with some tan layer underneath so it wasn’t actually see through. It hung loose, but not enough to totally hide the fact that her sexy as fuck curves weren’t just on the bottom.
She’d put on makeup too—something else I hadn’t seen her do outside of work.
She was making an effort. I wasn’t sure who it was for. Most of the brothers had already seen her, if not actually spoken to her. It had to be different for her to see them outside the club, but a bunch of bikers wouldn’t judge.
I was tempted to ask, but I was absolutely getting that air of nerves from her, and drawing attention to it felt like a dick move.
“Come on, sweets,” I told her, leading her to the door.
“Are you sure about this?” she asked, finally giving a voice to her anxiety.
Damn. I never thought I’d see the day she got rattled and admitted it.
I reached forward, hooking my thumbs into the belt loops on her shorts and pulling her in. When I got her close, I sunk my hands into her back pockets to cup that sweet ass.
“What’s this about?”
She rolled her eyes. “I don’t usually get along so great with other women.”
So, it wasn’t the brothers. Not a surprise.
“These aren’t dramatic, catty bitches. The girls are all solid, good people. Yeah?”
Avery didn’t look convinced, but she didn’t argue either. I could stand out here and try to assure her all day, or I could just let shit play out and show her there was no reason to be worried.
When I led her through the clubhouse, most of the brothers were sitting around the lounge. We got waves and greetings, and a couple brothers who actually knew her made a point to welcome Avery in.
Then, we went into the kitchen, where all the women were hanging out while some of them prepped plates of food. I’d learned my lesson not to comment on the fact that the women usually ended up in the kitchen handling that shit. I knew it was a joke. The only reason they were in there was because most of us brothers were fucking useless in that particular room. However, it had not been received as a joke. I might fuck with a lot of people around here willingly, but a kitchen full of women with access to knives was a hard limit for me.
“Ladies,” I greeted as we walked in. A round of “hi’s” came in response, followed by curious looks at the fact that I wasn’t alone.
“This is Avery,” I said, then did the round of introductions for her as I pointed around the room. “Quinn, Cami, Ember, Ash, Deni, and Max.”
“Nice to meet you,” Avery offered.
Call me fucking stunned when she got nothing back.
What the fuck was this?
Trying to deflect the tension that suddenly felt like a dead weight around my neck
, I asked, “Where are all the rugrats?”
Cami answered, not seeming off when she did, even though the whole scene around us was not right. “Gauge and Sketch have them out back, except Hunter, who’s down for a nap.”
I was fixing to take Avery out to see the kids, hoping stepping away from whatever the hell I’d just walked her into might have made things go back to normal, when Doc came into the room.
“Well, look who it is,” he said, coming right to Avery. “How you doin’, pretty girl?”
She gave the old man a hug and answered, “All right,” in a calm enough voice, it was almost believable. Luckily, Doc wasn’t easily snowed. He caught the tension the second he hit the doorway. His eyes shot to me in question over her shoulder while he had his arms around her.
“I was just going to head into the yard to meet all the kids,” I supplied.
He caught my drift and took over. “Let me.” Then, he spoke directly to her. “All those treats you’ve been supplying me with, least I can do is get you a drink.”
Avery, obviously wanting to escape, took him up on it and followed him right out like the place was on fire. As soon as I was sure the two of them were out of earshot, I turned on the women still staring at me.
“What the hell was that?”
Ember decided to field that one. “What do you mean?”
Was she serious with that shit?
I looked around. Ash looked uncomfortable and avoided my gaze, fixing her attention to her rounded belly. Deni, Cami, and Quinn still kept their expressions neutral, not looking hostile, just blank. Max, ever one to go her own fucking way, just seemed to be curious. And Ember, her face didn’t show it, but her eyes looked like she was about to unleash that attitude.
“Really, Em? You want to pull that? Not one of you even said a fuckin’ hello to her. What the fuck?”
Quinn spoke up then, surprising the hell out of me. “It’s kind of awkward, Daz,” she pointed out, albeit gently.
I looked her way, confused as shit. As far as I was concerned, it wasn’t awkward until they all made it that way. “What do you mean?”
Ember sighed. “You brought a stripper to hang with the family. Usually, even you check that shit until after we get the kids out. How did you expect us to react?”
