Page 21 of Biker In My Bed


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“Royal! You made it!”

We gave each other the typical bro-hug, and I returned his smile. “Hey, Lock, it’s been a while.”

“Sure as hell has.” He and I had met on several occasions when he was still up in the Iowa chapter. Then, when this chapter had their anniversary party the year before, I found out he’d transferred to Central Texas. He and I hung out for a couple of days before my chapter and I had headed back to Colorado.

“How’s Paisley?” I asked him.

With a pained wince, he shook his head. “A handful. I’m terrified of what she’s gonna be like when she’s older.”

I laughed because I remembered the sassy little darling well.

“How was your ride down?” he asked as he wiped his hands on a shop rag.

The door to what I assumed was the office opened and Truth walked out with his phone to his ear. He gave me a chin lift before he approached. “I’ll let him know,” he said before ending the call.

After a brief embrace, he snickered. “Sorry, that was Smoke. He told me to tell you he’s on his way. Josie is giving him hell. She doesn’t want Daddy to go.”

The corner of my mouth twitched. Imagining the burly guy caving to his little girl reminded me of when Lacie was young. Being over seven years older than her, I ended up taking care of her more often than not. With our mom barely being in the picture, I was all Lacie had, and I was a sucker for her.

We sat and bullshitted for a bit while I waited for Smoke to get there. They caught me up with everything going on right now, which wasn’t much.

“There’s Smoke now,” Lock announced as we heard a bike turn into the driveway.

The president of my new chapter rolled up to park next to the other bikes. After killing the motor and hanging his helmet on his handlebar, he got off and peeled his gloves off. He tossed them to the seat and approached me.

I held out a hand to shake, he gripped it and pulled me into a one-armed embrace. Then he released me and stepped back. “Good to have you, Royal. How was the trip?”

“Long,” I replied with a good-natured huff. It had also been cold as hell until I got closer to this area. The practically balmy temps here were a relief. I could get by with a hoodie whereas up in Colorado I’d been wearing my leather jacket for at least a month.

“Did Lock and Truth show you around?” he asked.

Truth winced and rubbed the back of his neck. “Not yet, we ended up bullshitting instead.”

Smoke chuckled. “Figures.” Then he motioned for me to follow him.

“I’ll stop by to see you guys before I leave.” Truth and Lock gave me a chin lift and went back inside the shop.

We walked over to the clubhouse and into the warm interior. He flipped on a few lights, and I followed him through the common area and to the back hall, where we entered his office.

“Take a seat.”

I did as I was told. He sat behind his desk and pulled out a bottle of whiskey from his drawer, then two shot glasses. I watched as he poured the rich, golden liquor in each, then he put the bottle away and held one out to me.

We clinked the rims, tapped them to the desktop, then downed the shot. He took my glass and placed it in a basket off to the side with his.

“It’s good to have you here. Even though you and Radar are ruining our image.” He smirked.

Confused, I cocked my head in question.

“They call us the SSC—single syllable chapter.” The corner of his lips twitched in amusement.

“Ahh, that’s right. I’ve heard that. Sorry I’m throwing a wrench in that. I’m a little partial to my road name, though.” I grinned as I shrugged.

He laughed. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to ask you to change it. But tell me a little about how you got it.”

I leaned back in the chair and crossed my booted ankle over my opposite knee. My thumb brushed over a frayed spot in the denim. The corner of my mouth tugged up despite my attempt to remain chill.

“My sister started calling me Royal when she was about five or six. She had seen something at school about the British royals and how they lived in Windsor Castle. My last name is Windsor, but hers is Reinhardt. She said I had the same name as their castle, so I must be a royal. She used to make up stories about how I was really a secret prince and my real father, the king, was going to find me and take us away to live like royalty.” I’d never corrected her because she didn’t need to know what a piece of shit my father had been.

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