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“Glad to hear it. Now, prospect, you gonna let us in?”
Haole dips his chin, spinning for the gate, and pushes a button. “The guys will be inside, probably playing pool or eating or some shit, but they will be inside. Just head on in.”
“Thanks, Haole,” I reply.
“Yes, thank you!” Kaia calls out past me as I drive into the parking area and park next to the limited number of bikes in the lot.
This club is small.
As Haole said, not a lot goes on over here.
Not the kinds of drama we see on the mainland. So they don’t need as many bodies we do. This feels more like a group of guys hanging out together to have a good time. Don’t get me wrong, I know they could kick some serious ass if they needed to.
Turning off the engine, I smile at Kaia and waggle my brows. “Here we go.”
We hop out of the car and walk toward the entrance. The doors are open, and as I go to walk inside, Kaia slaps her hand on my chest almost violently, stopping me from taking my first step inside the clubhouse. I glance down at her, furrowing my brows as she takes off her shoes, then places them on the rack outside the door, where a bunch of other shoes are located. I scrunch my brows and let out a snort. “You’re kiddin’?”
She grins, glancing down at my feet. “You’re in my country now, baby. You have to do as I say. Take off your shoes.”
Scrunching up my face, I scrub at my beard. “What the fuck for?”
“Because it’s tradition. It is considered rude to go into people’s homes wearing shoes. Now, get those boots off.”
Groaning, I bend over, yank off my boots and socks, then place them on the rack next to Kaia’s sandals. “Happy?”
She smiles, leans on her toes, and kisses my cheek. “Very. Now c’mon, let’s meet the brothers.” Kaia yanks me through the clubhouse doors, where the smell of something cinnamon wafts through the air, and my stomach rolls in appreciation. The clubhouse appears more like a resort than a biker hangout. The walls are white with gray accents, bamboo fans hang from the ceilings, and a giant skylight sits in the middle of the clubhouse, letting the beautiful Hawaiian sun through. A slow smile crosses my face as I see the telltale pool table and dart board. The bar is over by the other wall, lined with bamboo, giving it that exotic Hawaiian Island feel.
Even potted palms in the corners make this place feel—I don’t know—loved? Like someone likes to take care of the place.
“Hui! Your poi cinnamon rolls are ready. Come get ’em while they’re still warm,” a gentle but motherly voice calls out as she steps out of what I assume is the kitchen.
She’s short and curvy, but her smile and general aura light up the entire room. And the way the guys all turn to her, smiling in appreciation as she calls out to them, lets me know she is a much-loved club member. She is probably the reason this place is so immaculate.
Kaia smiles at me, inhaling deeply. “Do you think we should interrupt?”
I dip my chin, clearing my throat. “Sorry, brothers, don’t mean to be a pain in the ass. Just wanted to let y’all know we have arrived.”
The woman slaps the hands of one of the guys who was going to grab a second cinnamon roll, and he chuckles as she walks past them, heading for us with the plate. “Aloha, welcome to Oahu Defiance. I’m Aunty Malia. We are so pleased you are here with us. Our president, Pono, is in a meeting, but he will be out shortly to greet you. In the meantime, please make yourselves at home and enjoy one of my famous cinnamon rolls.”
Kaia smiles so wide, her shoulders bob up and down in excitement. “I’m Kaia. I’m so freakin’ excited to be here,” she replies, eagerly taking one of the sweet-smelling treats without hesitation.
I smile at Malia. “Nice to meet ya. I’m Hurricane, President of NOLA Defiance. This is a great place you have here,” I tell her.
Kaia takes a huge bite of the roll, letting out a moan that should only be reserved for when I fuck her.
My eyes widen, and Malia chuckles. “I’m glad you approve. Would you like one, Hurricane?”
I put my hand up as if to say no, but Kaia stares me down with a glare that if she could shoot lasers, I’d be dead right now. So, instead of dropping my hand, I grab one. “Thank you, Malia.”
Kaia groans in disapproval.
Malia chuckles, placing her hand on Kaia’s shoulder. “It’s okay, sweetheart. He doesn’t know our culture and customs. He can call me Malia.”
My eyes widen as I turn to Kaia for guidance. I never fucking know what I am doing wrong. She shakes her head, turning to me. “No, he’s here in your country, in your clubhouse. He can learn. Hurricane, you need to call her Aunty Malia or just Aunty. It’s a respect thing.”
Respect is something I can do.
“My apologies. I know a little bit about the Hawaiian culture being married to Kaia, but never having been here and seeing it all firsthand, I’m a newbie to all this. I apologize, Aunty Malia.”
