Jasmine
“You alright there, sweetheart?”
Nitro’s deep voice washes over me and I double down on trying to find my keys. The women told me what was about to happen, and even though they invited me as an honorary member of the girl gang, it didn’t feel right getting mixed up in “club business.” From what I’ve read in the MC books, and yes, I read them mainly for research once I started hanging around the clubhouse, club business is strictly for club members. Usually the men. I get that the DRMC is progressive, what with Chewy, Remy and to an extent Blanche holding an actual role within the MC, but still. I don’t think it goes as far as an Ol Lady’s family member. An Ol Lady in-law? No idea. Anyway, after all the advice they gave me about taking a chance and in Mira’s case,grabbing Fox and Nitro by the balls, I figured it was time for me to go home, wash the day away and try to get some rest.
Instead what’s happening is that I’m getting more and more flustered by the ridiculously hot man asking me if I’m OK while my giant handbag holds my keys hostage. My face is heating up and I’m about to apologize when a large, rough hand wraps around my forearm, freezing me in place.
“Hey, Jazz, let me take a look, yeah?” He peers at me with impossibly dark eyes, eyes that feel like they’re looking deep into my soul.
I don’t know what comes over me, whether it’s the relief that someone wants to take something off my plate, but I hand over my bag. He takes it with the hand that was on my arm and I feel the loss of his warmth immediately. I internally roll my eyes, I’m only feeling this way because it’s been a long time since someone not related to me has touched me like that. God I’m a sad sack.
He turns to move into the kitchen and my eyes dart toward the front door, “Ah, aren’t you meant to be with the rest of the crew?”
His lips turn up as he looks at me over his shoulder. “Nah, Chewy’s interrogations aren’t mandatory. Besides, Fox will let me know if there was anything I missed.” He walks a few steps before turning back to me, “You coming?”
I nod and quickly follow after him. He places my bag gently on the kitchen island before moving to the fridge, “Do you want something to drink? Water? Juice?”
He pulls a bottle of OJ out of the fridge and shakes it in my direction. I nod, because what else can you do when a hot guy offers you a way to get your vitamin C up?
“Thanks, Nitro.”
“Zane.”
“Huh?”
“My name, it’s Zane.” He pours two glasses of juice and I can’t help the little snort that escapes me. He raises his brow in question, “Something funny, Jazz?”
“Ah, yeah just never pegged you for a juice type of guy. More a beer or whiskey type.” I shrug, accepting the glass he slides my way before sitting down in the seat across from me at the island.
“Well, you don’t drink alcohol and I’m not drinking a beer while you’re sipping on your juice.” He says as if it’s a completely natural thing, for a biker to be sitting with an overweight woman with creaky joints, drinking OJ.
His eyes darken as they look right through me, a frown on his face. “You’re fucking perfect. I don’t know what cocksucker told you you were overweight, but they need a punch in the dick for that.”
My face heats up to match the temperature of the damned sun when I realize my inside thoughts were outside thoughts. Groaning, I lean forward, gently banging my head against the cool marble countertop.
A soft huff has me peering up at Nitro, no, Zane, a small smile playing on his full lips. “Fucking adorable,” he whispers before his eyes go wide, as if that was an inside thought for him.
I grin as I sit upright, glad to know he’s as awkward as I am. It’s kinda nice though. Without Fox here breaking the ice I get to see Zane for who he is. He has a tendency to hide behind Fox in social situations.
“So -” I freeze as we both say the word at the same time. A smile tugs at my lips before I burst into laughter, Zane’s rusty sounding chuckle joining mine.
“You go first,” he says, tipping his head toward me before taking a drink of his OJ. Watching his thick throat working to swallow has me all kinds of twisted up in my lower belly, heat pooling between my thighs.
“Oh, um, was just going to ask how working at the police department was treating you.”
His face schrunches slightly, giving him a boyish quality. “Rose Grove is full of delinquents and dumb teenagers.”
I burst into laughter, knowing full well some of those delinquents and teenagers are kids that I have had dealings with in the past. “I probably know some of them, lemme guess, was one of them a kid named Tyler with a terrible haircut and acne?”
“Yes! That kid suuuucked,” he says, letting his head roll back on his shoulders, leaving me to get an eyeful of the dark chest hair peeking out the top of his henley.
I wriggle a little in my chair, trying to get comfortable. The stool is hard beneath me and it’s causing a slight ache in my hips, but nowhere near as serious as the ache in my core. I swear, between him drinking and now the little chest hair tease, all it’ll take is a quick look at his forearms and I’ll combust right here, leaving nothing but a pair of wet granny panties behind.
He sits upright again, “Wait, I thought you only taught little ones?”
I take a sip of my juice, “I do now, but one of the first classes I had was a group of kids with ADHD and various behavior issues. I could honestly say that I’ve worked with at least half of the kids you call delinquents.”
“Not sure if you should tell people that, sweetheart. They may think you’re the reason they’re like that,” he says with a glint in his eye, but with a straight face.
