So, instead, I’d become friends with her when that was the very last thing I wanted to do.
A few years after meeting Conleigh, and the same day that I’d been drafted to my team, I joined the Texas branch of the Dixie Wardens MC. However, when we’d gotten to Bear Bottom, the residents had started calling us the Bear Bottom MC, and it had just kind of stuck. We’d officially changed our name six months later, despite the anger and uprising that it had caused our fathers—original members of the Dixie Wardens.
But, we’d decided that we didn’t want to follow in our fathers’ shadows and found that the best way to do that was not to use the Dixie Wardens’ name at all but to instead go with Bear Bottom Guardians MC. Of course, our loyalty was with the Dixie Wardens MC, and we’d always have their backs if they needed us—but we were branching off on our own into something entirely new. In a show of respect, we had a Dixie Wardens MC rocker added onto our cuts. We still referred to ourselves as the Guardians, though.
Which was still kind of rough on all of the old timers that had put the Dixie Wardens on the map, so to speak.
There was Silas Mackenzie, the president of the Benton, Louisiana chapter. There was Gordon McGrew, the president of the Little Rock, Arkansas chapter. Oh, and my personal favorite—the man who liked to make my world a living hell by denying me what I wanted so dearly, Steel Cross, aka Big Papa, who was the president of the Mooresville, Alabama chapter.
Those three men had been downright pissed that we didn’t take the Dixie Wardens’ name and had almost gone so far as to demand that we use it or not be affiliated with them at all.
That was where Ezekiel McGrew, Gordon’s son, had come into play.
Ezekiel, better known as Zee, was the brains of our small band of misfits, and also the one who had seen the posturing for what it really was—posturing.
The older presidents were used to getting what they wanted, and Zee had suggested that we give it to them.
Not by bending to their order to use the Dixie Wardens’ name, but by going with the Bear Bottom Guardians’ name and letting them figure their shit out on their own or not at all. Eventually, the three presidents accepted our decision, but not before it had caused a little bit of animosity between our clubs.
Meaning that there was still some lingering bad blood between myself and Conleigh’s stepfather, Steel Cross.
Unfortunately for Steel, I’d met Conleigh before I became a member of the Bear Bottom Guardians MC, and all of that stuff between the two factions had gone down. Because, if I hadn’t, Conleigh wouldn’t even know who I was right now, and if she did, she would hate my guts because Steel really did dislike what I stood for—change.
Winnie laughed. “He’s in a bad mood today. There’s an unsolved case that he can’t seem to solve, and they’re running him around in circles. Not to mention he bet on y’all last night to win and…”
She left that part hanging.
I winced.
“What if I just went ahead and continued on with this relationship, and we just agree that he said I could?” I suggested.
Winnie snorted. “Honey, you’re the one holding you back. Steel’s probably never going to agree because he thinks you’re a playboy and too full of yourself. Despite what you might think, when you pulled back right before you were drafted, that was all on you, not on him.”
That was true.
When I was drafted, Conleigh and I were fairly tight.
However, I hadn’t been able to handle all the things that came with being drafted, playing professional football, and everything else I was expected to do.
That, and Conleigh had started school clear across the freakin’ country from me, making me realize that it probably wasn’t our time.
Then there was her stepfather, a man who’d always intimidated me since the day that my father had joined his MC, telling me that I needed to stay away from his girl because she was too young.
So, I had.
And now, eight years after meeting her, she was twenty-four and I was twenty-seven, and I’d had an epiphany.
The time was now.
I was wasting it.
Conleigh was no longer across the country.
She was less than an hour away from me, going to school in her spare time while also working as a nurse at a local hospital.
I’d purposefully stayed away from her for too long, hoping that she’d finish school, and her stepfather would lose the grudge he held against me.
But then, last night, she’d said that she didn’t like school, and I realized that maybe it was time to do me now.
“Fine,” I said to my future mother-in-law. “How many grandkids do you want?”
Winnie squawked. “I’m too young for grandkids!”
I chuckled. “Well, maybe you should start preparing yourself now. Oh, and tell that husband of yours that I’m going for it.”
Then I hung up before she could say anything else, like the word ‘no.’
Pulling up my phone, I texted crabby pants again.
Linc: What time should I pick you up for lunch?
I got an immediate reply that had me nearly laughing my ass off.
Conleigh: I’m too far away for you to just pick me up for lunch. Sorry.
Linc: I’m sorry, correct me if I’m wrong, but aren’t you in Kilgore?
The dots that indicated she was replying went on for forever, making me chuckle.
Putting the phone down on my bed, I stood up and shucked out of my underwear, walking to my closet to find a brand-new pair, along with jeans and a Liners t-shirt.
Then I thought better of that t-shirt and pulled it off before tossing it into the bottom of my closet, settling instead for a solid navy blue one that didn’t declare me as a member of a losing team that the people in the surrounding area would still be pretty miffed off at.
Once I was dressed, I picked up my phone that still had those three dots rotating and headed out the door and toward my lunch date.
***
I grinned when I saw the blinds flip up and immediately back down at the sound of my Harley arriving in her driveway.
She had a cute little rental on the outskirts of town, and it was more than obvious that she cared for the little place.
It also happened to look a whole lot like the one I’d purchased just a year ago.
Sure, I could’ve easily afforded something more, but what was the point? I only utilized half of the house I had now. If I had more, that’d be just one more thing I’d have to clean.
My eyes took everything in, and aside from the flowers planted next to her mailbox, almost everything about it was nearly identical on the outside to my own.
There was a small front porch with three steps leading up to a red door. The house was painted white, and the shutters were red. Then there was the one-car detached garage that had a bright red goddamn door—also exactly like mine.
What the hell?
Was my place and hers by the same builder or something?
This was uncanny how similar our houses were to each other.
Then the blinds flicked again, making my lips twitch.
Getting off the bike, I hung my helmet on the handlebars and started up the well-groomed path, stopping to study the flowers.
Red and blue.
That was so Conleigh.
My girl wasn’t a pink girl. Nor was she a purple girl. I didn’t think I’d ever seen her in anything that even remotely resembled those colors.
Black? Yes. Brown? Double yes. Blue jeans? Hell yeah.
Dresses? Fuck no.
Conleigh was not a girly girl. Conleigh was a functional girl.
That was why, when she opened the door in a goddamn dress, I was so fucking surprised that I almost questioned whether I was at the correct house or not.
When I saw the long, flowing brown hair that was the color of dark chocolate, I knew that it was her.
The makeup and the d
ress, though? Those both threw me off.
“What the fuck?” I asked. “Why are you wearing a dress?”
Conleigh, who also never had her hair curled like it was right then, looked down at her attire.
“I’m going on a date.” She bit her lip.
I narrowed my eyes.
“Let me guess,” I said sarcastically. “You’re going on a date, knowing I was coming here to take you to lunch.”
She smiled. “How did you know?”
About that time, a car purred to a stop behind me, and I turned my head to study her date.
He wasn’t anything special. About six feet even, he was skinny as a rail and had a fuckin’ pink shirt on that I knew Conleigh secretly hated. He was the epitome of the type of man who would not do it for her. Not even a little bit.
But then she smiled at the little prick as he stepped out of his shitty little eco-friendly car, and acted like I was the interloper here, not him.
“Tyson!” Conleigh called.
Tyson looked at me, glanced at Conleigh, and then smiled. “Uh, hello. Are you ready to go?”
If I would’ve been in his shoes, I would’ve been straight up hostile toward a man who was sharing the same space as my date. This Tyson loser looked like he’d blow over with a stiff wind.
Then he reached his hand out to her, and Conleigh’s hand connected with his, and I started to pay attention to other aspects about the man.
Not only was he skinny and wearing a pink shirt, but his hair was perfectly styled, and he had soft hands.
I looked down at my own hands.
They were big, weathered, and had scars on top of scars.
I had one on my right pinky from a pair of size sixteen feet stepping on it—the spikes that helped with purchase on the grassy field puncturing the skin.
Then the same thing had happened on the other hand, but unfortunately, not only had it punctured the skin, but it’d also nearly crushed my left ring finger.
Wearing a wedding ring would definitely be tough, that was for sure, seeing as it was about twice the size of my other fingers—which were quite big to begin with.
I had calluses from lifting heavy weights without hand protection, and my fingernails were all bruised in some way.
And then there was the fingernail I didn’t have at all on my right ring finger.
Yeah, I didn’t have pretty boy hands like this guy.
I certainly didn’t have hands that were the same size as hers, and probably felt nicer than hers did, either.
So, there was that.
“You ready?” I heard him ask again.
What a pussy.
“Yes!” Conleigh said with false excitement. “Totally.”
Then he led her over to the smart car that was only just a little bit bigger than my bike and stuffed her inside.
When he walked around the car, Conleigh’s eyes connected with mine.
She didn’t read anger in my eyes, though. No, she read the challenge.
And I knew that she was going to understand it, too.
Her lips pursed and she looked away, but she kept glancing surreptitiously at me through her hair, wondering if I was still watching her.
She needn’t have worried.
I was watching every move she made.
Chapter 3
Me: I need to do a thing. Body: You did a thing yesterday.
-Conleigh’s secret thoughts
Conleigh
“Who was that man on your front porch?”
I wasn’t even halfway through the date before I realized that I’d made a really stupid decision.
I’d finally accepted one of the doctor’s countless offers to go out on a date—doing so only after Linc said he was on his way over—and was learning too late that he was a real piece of work.
He was everything I hated in a man, and I knew without a single doubt in my mind that I would never go on another date with him.
I was so stupid. Agreeing to go on the date was going to make it incredibly awkward when I turned him down for future dates and then I’d have to see him at work.
Yeah, the date idea was incredibly stupid.
Stupid, stupid, stupid.
All of it had been done just so I could avoid Linc, and honestly, I wasn’t sure why I’d done it.
It’d been a split-second decision to say yes to him, and I was regretting it now.
I knew that if I didn’t have a valid excuse to give to Linc, he’d take my no as a yes and take me out to lunch. Then I’d start spending time with him, and my stupid, traitorous heart would fall in love with him all over again.
And honestly, I wasn’t sure that my heart could take any more of him leaving me behind.
I already thought about him too much as it was.
“Are you even paying attention to what I’m saying?” Tyson asked.
I frowned and focused back on the man who was clearly not on my mind and smiled—or at least I tried to.
“Yes, I’m sorry,” I apologized. “My stomach hurts.”
Tyson lifted his lip in a silent snarl. “The stomach bug that’s been going around at work?”
My heart soared. “Yes. Maybe. I think I should be going home now.”
Tyson stood up and backed away, his eyes a little wide.
I stood up before he could protest and started toward the parking lot.
It took me until I was at the door to realize that I hadn’t driven—Tyson had.
Son. Of. A. Bitch.
I contemplated turning around for a whole two point five seconds and then decided against it.
I didn’t want to be in Tyson’s presence any longer.
There was only so much I could hear about how well he had done in school, and how if I was studying more, I’d be doing better.
Hell, a broken heart was almost preferable to listening to this jerkface treat me as if I was a lesser being because I didn’t want to continue further with my schooling.
I pushed through the double doors and contemplated my next step.
It was only after I’d gotten to the parking lot that I saw the biker leaning against his bike.
I narrowed my eyes at Linc and stalked over to him.
“What are you doing here?” I growled, crossing my arms.
“Getting lunch,” he lied. “Why?”
Yeah, right.
He didn’t answer.
“You don’t like sushi,” I countered.
Linc’s lips twitched. “I’ve heard that tastes change as you age. Maybe mine have.”
I rolled my eyes. “You’re full of shit.”
“Where’s your date?” he asked.
I almost told him exactly what I thought of my date, but then Linc’s mouth kicked up at the corner, causing me to feel like punching him instead of explaining anything.
This cocky, rude man was the reason I’d said yes to the date in the first place.
Now I remembered.
I looked behind me to see Tyson exiting without any to-go boxes full of his leftovers, and I had a moment of sadness realizing I wouldn’t get to finish my California Roll. That one was my favorite, and I didn’t get to have it very often because I was trying to pay for school without taking out any more loans—which wasn’t really working out all that well for me.
Though I made fairly decent money as a nurse, I was the low man on the totem pole. I was the first one to get sent home if we were slow, and the last one considered for overtime. I never got any of the good overtime days with the holiday pay because the other nurses wanted to work them to get the time and a half plus the holiday pay bonuses.
Meaning I was left either not working on those days or complaining about it to get one of those shifts—and I would not complain. I wanted my fellow nurses to like me. I wanted to have friends.
“Uhhh,” I hesitated. “Tyson, are you ready to go?”
Tyson looked like I’d just asked him a question
he couldn’t answer, and I had a bad feeling about what was about to come out of his mouth next.
“I’m sorry, Conleigh. I don’t think that’s a good idea. My car’s pretty small, and you might pass that bug to me…that would be bad. I don’t deal with sickness well.”
I heard Linc’s low, slow chuckle behind me. Then he opened his mouth.
“Aren’t you in the medical field?” he asked.
How would he know that?
I frowned and looked at Linc to see his eyes full of mischief and gleaming with excitement.
Goddammit, why did he have to look so good?
“Yes,” Tyson admitted, momentarily stealing my attention from the way Linc looked.
“Then you should be used to sick people,” Linc countered. “But I’ll do you a solid this one time. I’ll take her home, and you don’t worry about ever talking to her again. Sound good?”
Tyson let out a relieved breath. “Thank you.”
I had no doubt in my mind that Tyson would be back. He’d hounded me for months until I’d finally given in. He wouldn’t give up just because Linc told him to, would he?
“Hope you feel better, Conleigh,” Tyson rushed out. “Bye.”
Then without my precious California Roll that I’d only had one bite of to help me forget about this debacle, I watched Tyson get into his stupid little smart car and practically peel out of the parking lot.
I was sure if his car had been capable of it, he would have.
I turned to Linc and felt my stomach jolt at the smile that lit his face.
He was fully bearded today—not out-of-control beard, but well-maintained I’m-sexy-as-fuck beard.
He had straight white teeth that were exposed by his smile, and the creases at the corners of those green eyes were on display.
He was wearing a pair of faded blue jeans that fit him like they were made specifically for him. They were snug in all the right places, and I could make out the shape of every bit of muscled flesh underneath of them.
The plain navy-blue t-shirt he had on did nothing to hide his magnificence, either.
He was wild—savage, really—and looked like the biker he was.
Talkin' Trash (The Bear Bottom Guardians MC Book 2) Page 2
