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And if he pulls through I will know how I feel. Trust doesn’t come as easy as lust, and I have to see through the haze to know where all of this is taking me. My father and the whole MC was blindsided and every single one had to pay for it with his life. I can’t afford to get distracted, no matter how good he looks and how nice he seems.
Riding into the sunset sounds romantic, but the reality is fucked up because that sun is bright and blinds you. And that man’s body blinds me because my mind is screaming for me to do what I did the first time I met him; yell “catch” and jump his bones. And, who am I kidding. Romance and love? Complication. Sex and beers? Easy and an instant high.
And I need that instant high to balance the heavy weight of life pressing down on my shoulders. I swallow hard and shake my head at my mental ramblings and reasoning. Things need to get uncomplicated fast or I’ll lose my mind.
Noticing how Tikki is laying forward over Ava’s neck to hug the horse triggers a smile. We made a huge step forward to lessen her fear and I can’t deny Ezra had a part in this too. He glances over his shoulder and shoots me a wink. And let me tell you, when that man winks? It’s as if he secretly shares a dirty little promise to tongue your clit into oblivion.
And dammit, I can feel my cheeks flush again. I don’t need this shit. Growling, I spin on my heel and snap, “You guys can finish up, I have other shit to handle,” and head for the clubhouse.
Stomping inside–my mood has blown to shit with all the mauling my brain has done over the last few minutes–I redirect my frustration on the first person I encounter; Jorie.
“Done with cleaning for today? Or are you finally going to put in some real work around here?” I can’t help myself, she brings out the worst in me and above anything else? She’s sitting at the bar in a miniskirt with a cocktail in her hand.
Ever since I’ve ordered her to put in cleaning work if she can’t handle the livestock or anything else ranch related, she’s done nothing but skip around using excuses. Needing to go to the dry cleaners to pick up something, doctor and dentist appointments, too tired, broke a fucking nail, anything to get out from underneath her chores.
Add in the fact her brother is an asshole and her father was kicked out of the club and I’m probably looking for a great excuse to push her out as well. I feel like the statement “I don’t need this shit” has been overused these days. But seriously, though? I don’t need this fucking shit.
“Here, Prez. You sound like you need one,” Medley states and places a cold beer on the counter.
I don’t drink everyday but I also don’t turn down a cold beer when I need one.
“Thanks, sis,” I grumble and keep glaring at Jorie while I take a few pulls and let the cold, bitter goodness slide down my throat.
“Well?” Medley snaps. “Answer your Prez instead of checking those fake nails of yours, Jorie.”
It’s obvious Jorie isn’t popular but with a large group of women, it’s common sense no one can be completely loved or liked by everyone. But we all have our place in this MC and we all make it work. All except Jorie, who is completely ignoring us and is still admiring her pale pink nails with little rhinestones embedded in there.
I mean, seriously? I’m not judging her nails, the breast enhancement she had done a few months ago, or anything else that’s fake about her. But if I’m handling horses or anything else on the ranch, I wouldn’t be able to do shit with the length of her nails or the miniskirt and heels she’s wearing every second of the day. She even asks someone else to saddle up a freaking horse if she wants to ride.
Fuck this shit.
I slam the bottle down on the counter. “Maybe I need to call church and we can all take a vote.”
“Are we taking a vote?” Ramona quips and takes a seat beside me asking Medley, “Can I have a beer please?” before her attention slides to me again. “What are we voting about?”
Medley places a beer in front of Ramona and all she adds is, “Jorie.”
“What did she do now?” Ramona takes a sip. “Or the better question is, what didn’t she do?” She chuckles at her own joke but in reality, it’s frustratingly sad everyone knows Jorie sucks.
“You can’t vote about me,” Jorie huffs. “I’m not doing anything wrong. And just because my father didn’t die like all of yours doesn’t mean I don’t belong here. We were all raised in this MC.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake, really?” Cassia growls and sticks her head out from underneath the bar. She rises to her full height and slaps a rag into the sink. “You do everything fucking wrong. I’m here on my damn knees cleaning up the fucking mess you made when you made your cocktail. My boots are sticking to the floor but you just dart around on those red heels like you dart around everything around here. Wake up, doll face. Everyone puts in effort and no one rides free. And Prez?” Cassia’s stormy gray eyes hit mine. “Take the damn vote. We all want her gone.”
I think my day just got better. She’s right, why put something off that’s inevitable because ever since Valorous Sally became an all-female MC, this lazy woman hasn’t done shit to help around. It’s more like she’s one of the hangarounds from the old MC that stuck around. Because we all know for sure she was banging one of the members of my father’s MC.
I glance at my watch and announce, “Church in ten. Medley? Make sure everyone is present. Let’s get this shit over with.”
“You can’t do this,” Jorie starts to sputter and slams her cocktail glass on the counter, the red sticky goodness sloshing over the rim.
“You’re going to fucking clean that,” Cassia snaps. “I won’t have my forearm sticky if I’m leaning on the damn counter without looking.”
Jorie is glancing around, finding angry and frustrating looks all around.
“I’ll clean. I’ll clean right now. I’ll clean the whole clubhouse for two weeks and make dinner for everyone as well.”
“Same old shit, same old song, never going to happen, and all fucking lies.” Cassia sighs and shakes her head while she lets her fingers slide over her phone. “There, I’ve sent everyone a message. Tick tock, Jorie, tick-fucking-tock.”
“Don’t bother voting,” Jorie growls, takes her cocktail glass and throws it against the wall. “I don’t want to be here anyway. I hate it. I hate all of it. And you fucking bitches sitting on your high horses too. The place should have burned to the ground the day their blood was spilled.” She whirls around and stomps out of the clubhouse on her high heels.
