I find her pout so fucking cute.
“Like we said, Trista is gone until you say otherwise,” Viking informs her.
“What? How? Why me?”
“Because future ol’ ladies get more say than club whores, sprite, and I think there needs to be a difficult conversation between the two of you when she’s not under the fucking influence.” I’m still pissed about seeing my woman held at gunpoint by someone in our club, but a conversation between them needs to happen because both women need closure.
Chapter 13
Logan
The tension that was present when I previously visited is gone. Trista’s animosity must not have filtered through to anyone else, at least not in an obvious way, because everyone has been nice so far.
After spending the afternoon at my apartment because I’d promised to make dinner for my new roommates, Viking and Priest took me to Target. I’m in desperate need of new clothes, and now that I’ve secured living arrangements, I feel better about spending some of Miles’ money.
Coming back to the clubhouse was tough, but I pushed through, and when Finleigh, her baby, and the two prospects greeted me, I began to relax. It wasn’t until Amber and Macy showed up while I helped Finleigh make dinner for everyone—both high as a kite—that tensions heightened once again.
They haven’t outright done anything to me, but the whispers and stares are starting to get to me.
“Ignore them,” Fin says when she notices me watching them as she mixes a salad that is already mixed well enough.
“Hard to.” I glance down and set the fork next to the bowl so I don’t keep mixing it.
“Look, the only way you’re going to win them over is a display of dominance. Don’t back down. Hell, I had to stop Trista in her tracks from pursuing Brute, and I had no memory of my connection with him.” She sits next to me and places a hand on top of mine. “Let them look like the assholes. They know their place here. All the guys have made it perfectly clear they have no interest in claiming any of them.”
Looking towards the bar, I spot Viking with Brute, the two deep in a heated conversation. Not sure where Priest is off to.
“It’s just the three girls, right?” I ask. Fin nods. “This is nothing like the way it’s depicted in shows or movies.”
She laughs now. “No, it’s definitely not. These men are badass; they have no trouble taking out an enemy or claiming a woman. Trust that everything they do is with us and the club in mind.”
“I’m starting to get that,” I mutter, then sip my water as we wait on the oven to finish cooking the three trays of BBQ chicken sliders. “How did you meet Brute and Axl?” I finally ask one question I’ve been dying to know.
“A rundown bar in Jackson. I’d just gotten the green light for a gallery I pitched and was out celebrating. Don’t ask me why I chose that place, but I’m sure glad I did because they are the best thing to happen to me in years.”
Her happy tone and shining eyes make me wonder if I can have that too.
Getting up from the table, I enter the kitchen to make some iced tea. It’s the powdered stuff, so I add some sliced lemons and frozen peach chunks I spotted in the freezer. Cooking, baking, making anything really has always comforted me. I enjoy providing for the people I care about, and food seems the best way for me to do so.
Humming as I work, I’m unaware that I’m no longer alone until I hear, “Well, well, well. Look who has just made herself right at home.” I turn to see Macy sneering at me while Amber hangs back, like she doesn’t want to be in here.
“I was told I could.” Steel spine, Lo. Reminding myself that I’m welcome here and to be strong like Finleigh suggested, I don’t shrink back in their presence.
“That may be so, but we don’t want you here. Viking and Priest just want to give you a pity fuck and send you on your way.”
Now that, I know, isn’t true. I might be hesitant to trust them; that’s my nature, but I know in my heart I’m more than that to them.
“I don’t want trouble with you girls. Finleigh assures me you’re just protective of the club, and I can appreciate that, but I won’t fight with you.”
Macy scoffs, chugging back the remainder of her drink.
“Mac, don’t,” Amber cautions, earning a withering glare from the other woman.
A grating laugh escapes Macy as she returns her attention to me. “Don’t what, Amber? Put this bitch in her place? Show her that she needs to earn her place here?”
Channeling my inner Carly, I try to be ballsy like my best friend. “Look, Macy, you’re obviously drunk or high, so I’m going to let the attitude go for tonight. I’m not some wimpy little girl who can’t stand up for herself. Either leave and cool off, or we’re going to have a problem.”
Her eyes narrow; she’s spoiling for a fight, so I do as my old gym teacher taught us during a self-defense unit and spread my feet to maintain balance and loosen my arms, ready for a fight.
