“The clubhouse,” I tell her, bracing myself for her reaction while crossing my arms across my chest.
She eyes my arms for a moment and inhales a long, deep breath. When her eyes find mine, the words rush out of her, “Am I staying at the clubhouse or is this just a visit? I’m really tired,” she explains.
I can’t help but grin down at her. She’s fucking adorable.
“You’re staying,” I tell her seriously, my jaw clenching at the idea of her being out of my sight. Yeah, that shit isn’t happening anytime soon. “I’ll follow you over there,” there’s a command in my words, but Ezra doesn’t seem bothered by it.
“You’re lucky my dad taught me to always be prepared,” her words are full of sass, “because I have a bag with everything I need in my trunk.”
I push away the way my gut clenches at the mention of her dad. I fucking hate being reminded of that man; he hates me.
But he’s a reality I’m just going to have to deal with.
“Oh, Teach,” my voice drops to a purr, “I’m very aware of how lucky I am.”
I need to get her out of here and you better fucking believe that I’m going to use our proximity to my advantage. She agreed to do this my way after all.
CHAPTER 7
EZRA
Ryker stays behind me as we drive past the high school and through the center of town. The fairgrounds and the clubhouse are about as far away from each other as they can be, but I’m hoping the drive will give me a chance to clear my head. I feel wrung out.
Emotionally, yes, because I’m scared of what this all means and what I got myself mixed up in. But then there’s the otherthing.
The tension that hums between Ryker and me has my entire being out of sorts. I feel like I’m buzzing and floating while driving; my brain is trying to come to terms with everything that happened today.
I should be celebrating by watching the fireworks and getting something delicious and fried to devour.
Instead, I’m driving to the one place in Dogwood Ridge I figured I would never go. The Saint’s Outlaw’s clubhouse. My stomach clenches at the thought before rumbling out a reminder that I need to eat something while trying not to pout about missing out on my fried treat. I always reward myself with one when I get through the last day of the fair and the fundraiser.
The kids push hard on the last day and when Jessi relieved me, I wasn’t thinking about food. I was thinking about taking pictures.
Now look where that’s gotten me.
I’m a little surprised when the gates in front of the clubhouse open automatically, but then a man steps out of a booth and raises his hand at Ryker.
Right.
I have the president of the club riding my ass. I swear the man was trying to attach his wheel to my bumper the entire time. I’m not sure if I drove too fast or too slow at this point and it’s only added to the stress of the situation.
When I park, I look up at the large, converted warehouse. It’s massive and I have no idea what to expect inside.
A knock on the window has a scream coming out of me that would rival a silver screen scream queen. I fling the door open and glare at Ryker who is smirking down at me in a way that makes me want to smack him and kiss him.
“You can’t just knock on people’s windows like that,” I chastise him and I swear his eyes dance with amusement.
I try to get out of the car but am immediately pulled back into my seat. “Oh, fucking hell,” I mutter under my breath and jerkily unbuckle myself while knowing he’s not going to let me live this moment down.
I don’t look at him as I grab my purse and sling it across my body before grabbing my camera bag and getting out. This time, unhindered and successful.
Ryker doesn’t step back. Our bodies are far too close, and I’m left with nowhere to go.
“Teach,” his voice is a low rumble.
I can’t even put into words what it does to me when he calls me by his little nickname.
I’m not sure if I should be offended about it or not, but it makes me wonder what he would taste like while moaning it. Which is not at all what I should be thinking about.
