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Ozzy had mentioned that back in the day, the Originals had one of the ol’ ladies in charge of the sweet butts. Problem was, as of now, the MC only had three ol’ ladies. He couldn’t see Red or Cassie dealing with managing the club girls.
And Stella had her hands full with Crazy Pete’s since the bar was busier than ever. In fact, as soon as Tater and Possum became prospects, she claimed them as free labor for the bar.
The Fury still needed more prospects to do their dirty work. Some shit the sweet butts would never do. And a lot of shit they shouldn’t even know about.
A husky, “You were right,” filled his ear, drawing him out of his thoughts.
Of course he was. He was rarely wrong. She just didn’t realize it yet.
As they headed toward Manning Grove on a back road that wound through the valley, he squeezed one of her hands planted on his gut.
“You hungry?” he yelled over the wind.
“Not yet.”
“Good.” He motioned to the pack behind him, signaling that he was cutting out of line. And he did so at the next crossroad.
He’d find a quiet little spot to relieve the hard-on he’d been sporting long before she’d whispered in his ear. Him being right about her getting off on his bike meant her pussy and panties were wet and that thought made him hungry. But not for food.
They’d catch up with the rest of his brothers at Dino’s because they needed to make a quick pit stop first.
And it wasn’t to smell flowers.
Chapter Fourteen
Reese stared up at the dark ceiling. She was lying in Deacon’s bed, but instead of Deacon, her sister slept next to her.
It had been a long day and as exhausted as she was, she still couldn’t sleep.
Less than two weeks ago, her life consisted of going into the office, dealing with clients and then home to sleep, only to turn around and do it again the next day.
Now she was on a farm, sleeping in a biker’s bed in a building full of bikers, and she had not only gone on a club run but had a quickie on a bike.
Sex on a bike.
She never thought that was possible. Deacon proved her wrong.
Again.
It was crazy and spontaneous, and the fear of getting caught made it even more exciting.
She couldn’t believe she was thinking it, but...
It had been a great fucking day.
Watching Reilly around the club members proved her sister could fit in with anyone and anywhere. Her sister had never been as rigid about life or goals as Reese. She’d always been more of a free spirit.
Sometimes Reese caught herself being envious of her sister.
Today showed her what being a free spirit would feel like. Reese liked it, but knew it wasn’t practical. Today was just a momentary “vacation” from her real life and responsibilities.
That was all it was.
While the guys could be crude, rude and loud, Reese had still enjoyed spending time with the club. And she loved Autumn, Stella and Cassie. The three women, while all so different, meshed perfectly.
No jealousy, no cattiness, and they respected and supported each other.
Plus, they loved their big badass men and it showed.
Even better, their big badass men loved them back. They weren’t embarrassed about it, nor did they hide it.
Reese noticed it was rare the men were far from their “ol’ ladies.” They were always touching them in some way. A hand wrapped around the back of the neck. An arm casually thrown over the woman’s shoulders. Fingers intertwined. Some sort of constant connection.
And when their women weren’t within reach, they kept one eye on them at all times.
Reese wondered if that kind of attention became smothering. She’d always been independent and couldn’t imagine what it would be like where a man insisted on some sort of constant “attachment.”
Reese and Reilly had been the only two other women on the ride and once she and Deacon had caught up with everyone at Dino’s, she had watched Reilly interact with them all.
In about a week, Reilly had become a part of the club.
Reese thought it would bother her more than it did. But she still worried. Her sister needed to find her way and being a part of an MC—however she’d fit in—was not one of Reese’s dreams for her.
After returning from the diner, everyone had gathered downstairs in what Deacon had called The Barn, which, she was told, was the Fury’s clubhouse.
The club’s “home” was not dirty. It wasn’t disgusting. Admittedly, it was pretty cool. Planted in the center of the floor was a see-through fireplace that wasn’t currently burning. Two large side doors and another door at the front were open to let in the breeze of the comfortable spring night. Fifty-five-gallon drums sat scattered outside in a courtyard burning bright. The place reminded her of a rustic ski or Midwest hunting lodge complete with a bar, pool tables, dart boards, and old green bus benches lining the walls.
