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One Year Later
“Dakota will you hurry up dammit, we’re going to be late,” I called, standing at the door to Dakota’s apartment, having been there for ten minutes already, which meant we were going to be late. Again.
Yay, something new and different for us.
“I’m coming,” she called, appearing at the end of the hallway, pulling on one of her shoes with her toothbrush hanging out of her mouth. She pulled it out, looking around with a frown before she finally leaned over the pot plant on her entranceway table and spat inside.
I cringed. “Dude, that’s gross, even for you.”
She slammed her toothbrush down next to the plant and finished tying her shoe before standing up straight and taking a deep breath. “Look, I’m tired, I haven’t read the pages we should have read, and there’s something I need to tell—”
“Can you give me a ride to the clubhouse to get my bike?” Ripley asked, stepping out of the hallway with a satisfied smirk on his face.
My mouth fell open and my shocked gaze moved between my brother and my best friend. Then back again. “You’re kidding, right?”
He scoffed and pulled his club cut over his black hoodie before reaching for Dakota and pulling her into his arms. She didn’t fight him, and I even caught a small smile in the corner of her mouth as he pressed a kiss to her cheek.
“When did… how long have…” I couldn’t get the words out. Like my mouth couldn’t unscramble the mess that was up in my brain. “I can’t even right now. Dakota. Car. Now. We’re going to be late. And you, brother o’ mine, I don’t have time to take you to the clubhouse where I assumed you must have crashed after chatting with Ham last night about Empire, so you’re going to have to catch an Uber.”
I pulled the apartment door open, and Dakota ducked out ahead of me and jogged to the car, Ripley stomping behind her, grumbling as he pulled his cell phone from his pocket, leaving me to pull the door closed and lock it.
Dakota climbed into the car, and before I followed her down the path, I stopped next to my brother. “Please don’t hurt her.”
His fingers froze over the screen, and before I could walk away, he reached over and hooked his arm around my neck, pulling me in and pressing a kiss to my temple. “Have a good day,” he murmured before letting me go and turning away.
I sighed heavily and shook my head. He wasn’t going to make any promises. Because he knew he couldn’t keep them.
Dakota had googly-eyed at Ripley since they met a year ago, and I knew he was interested, but my brother didn’t like the idea of being fucking tied down to anything. Commitment scared the crap out of him, and it made me want to punch him in the face with the way he had this revolving door.
He was going to hurt her.
But Dakota was strong, she would bounce back.
I hoped.
I dumped my backpack on Ham’s desk and placed my palms flat on the surface, waiting for him to look up at me.
He smirked, his eyes scanning over a few more lines before he placed the paperwork aside and leaned back. “Yes, ma’am?”
“Did you know that Ripley stayed at Dakota’s place last night?”
“I don’t keep tabs on your brother, Meyah,” he responded.
“So, yes, you did?”
He laughed and pushed his chair back from the desk, turning my body and lifting me at the hips, so I was sitting at the edge while he moved in between my spread legs. My body instantly relaxed as I inhaled the smell of his leather and leaned my head forward, pressing my forehead against his chest. “Sorry, it’s been a long day.”
“You need not worry about whether your brother and your best friend are fucking or not, fury fists. That’s not your problem,” he scolded gently, hooking his finger under my chin and lifting my face to his. “You’re my Old Lady, not their fucking counselor.”
I rolled my eyes. “You say that like it’s a fulltime job.”
“You say that like it’s not.”
Arizona had really become home over the past year. It had taken months to get the clubhouse to the point where it was now. Luckily, I had a father who owned a construction company, and an older brother who turned out to be one hell of a damn designer.
There were more than fifteen rooms, each with their own bathroom, a kitchen, a dining room, a bar, and church. Not to mention a party area which was used more often than not—except when the boys knew that I was studying. There were even dorm type rooms downstairs for the club girls. Three of the six vehicle bays were left as workshops, and the club also had a couple of guys that did fantastic custom work for Harley’s and were booked up for months, the other guys helping out where they could.
The setup we had in Arizona was different to back home, but that was kind of why I loved it. The club had grown from four men to ten, and the interest was through the roof.
