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“I’m guessing you had patch bunnies back in Vegas, didn’t you?” She smirks, nudging my arm.

“Fuck yeah,” East answers for me. “Vegas has some of the best. The girls at that clubhouse make me wonder why the fuck all the ranked guys claimed old ladies.”

“Old ladies?”

“It’s like a wife,” East explains because he won’t shut the fuck up. “The club’s version of a wife, at least. Pointless if you ask me when there’s so much good pussy in the world.”

“Ignore him,” I tell her.

“I do,” Aiden agrees with me.

“I’m blunt, but I’m right, and you know it.” East leans back in his chair, grinning. “There’s nothing better than a good fuck, and anyone who tries to say otherwise isn’t doing it right or is lying. So why not spread that joy around? The more the merrier. Why limit your options to one person for the rest of your life?”

“East—” I start, but Harloe cuts me off with a question aimed at East.

“You don’t believe in love?”

“I don’t believe in monogamy.” East shrugs. “I’m sure love exists. I’ve seen it make people do some wild shit, so I say, no thank you. I plan on enjoying myself in all aspects of life. Especially where sex is concerned. There’s nothing better.”

“Nothing?” Harloe smirks, her eyebrow lifting, and I wonder what she’s getting at. “Not even riding?” Her gaze falls to East’s cut. “Tell me, would you rather never have good sex again or never ride a motorcycle again?”

“You don’t pull your punches,” he says like her ultimatum is life or death.

She gives him a shrug. “That’s not an answer.”

“Riding is in my blood. I couldn’t give that up.” He wipes his hand down his face. “I guess I’d have to settle for a mediocre fuck. But that’s a brutal would-you-rather, and you know it.”

Harloe smiles, not the least bit guilty.

“How come you don’t ask Shane these kinds of questions?” East points at me. “Just because I’m not afraid to say what I’m thinking doesn’t mean these guys are saints. You want to talk about not-mediocre sex, ask Shane about his patching-in party.”

“What about your patching-in party?” Her eyebrow hitches in a challenge, but that’s the last conversation I’m having with her.

I barely remember that night, but what I do remember involves a lot of whiskey and a couple different women. I shouldn’t care what Harloe thinks about it because I was single, but her opinion of me actually matters.

I shake my head. “We aren’t talking about my patching-in party.”

“Aww, tease.” Harloe nudges me, not the least bit threatened by what I might not be saying.

Confidence bleeds out of this girl. It’s sexy as fuck. And after everything that’s happened in the past twenty-four hours, it’s good to see her smiling, even if it’s only because she can tell East is doing his best to make me uncomfortable.

I’m so out of my depth with her. It’s terrifying.

Her knee taps against mine under the table, and when I don’t move my leg, she doesn’t either. “Don’t worry, you’re single; I’m not judging you. We all have our fun.”

I don’t like that comment at all, even if I have no right. But the thought of Harloe having her fun with anyone but me has my skin crawling.

I really need to stop obsessing over this girl.

“What about you, Harloe?” Aiden asks between bites. “Why don’t you tell us the wildest shit you’ve done since you seem to have stunned our brother into silence?”

I scratch my jaw, flipping Aiden off.

“The wildest thing?” She sits back, thinking. “Does walking out on my wedding count?”

“Nah, that wasn’t wild. That was smart. Zander’s a fucking prick.”

My comment relaxes her shoulders, and I wonder if it’s because she’s gotten so much judgment about it around town.