Page 7 of Property of Gray

When Uncle Hoss stepped down as Prez, my brother Dirty was supposed to move into the role. Big Daddy would only grant the leadership change and our patch over into the Kings if he agreedto marry Faye. But that didn’t happen because Dirty went to prison. Woods took his place and his bride to be.

What goes on between them is really none of my business, but my brother deserves better. A woman who loves him for him, not because of his status. The bell over the door dings. I glance up to see Gray strutting through the office like he’s the damn cock of the walk.

“Where’s Faye?”

I lift a shoulder. “She called out.” I’ve not laid eyes on him in three days. After things got a little intense at the clubhouse the other night, he’s been keeping his distance.

“Does your brother know that?”

“He’s the one who called me.”

“Shit. We’re hosting another club for a few days. Need a grocery restock.”

“I’ll do it when I get off.”

His eyes flash. “I’ll take you to the store.”

“I can manage.”

“We need steaks.”

“Okay, and?”

“Meats are a man’s job.”

“You were going to tell Faye to handle it.”

“What’s it matter?”

“You’re not an ol’ lady.”

I don’t need him to remind me. If my brother has any say, I never will be.

“I was going to call in an order.”

“You still can.”

“Yeah, but if you’re going, I can tag along and pick out the good cuts.”

“Suit yourself.” I play it off like he’s annoying, but the truth is I’m secretly smiling on the inside that he’s making an effort to spend time with me.

“Would you stop?” I glare back at Gray as he walks behind me at the local grocery store. He keeps hooking a finger in the back center belt loop of my jeans when he wants me to stop while he looks at something. Every time he does it, I’m jolted backwards against his chest.

He grins at me and tosses another pack of brats into my buggy.

“Who the hell needs fifteen packs of wieners?” I shake my head.

“I thought all women love big, fat, juicy wieners.”

“You’d know.”

“What the fuck does that mean?” he grabs a pack of cheese-stuffed ones.

I look him up and down. “Your ween gets around.”

“What would you know about his travels?”

I snort. “I have eyes and ears.”