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“Damn.” Shelby actually stomps her foot. “Thought that’d take you more than two seconds.”
Sparky grins and lifts his chin at Dex. “Hey, did I tell you about the new strain I’m developing?”
“No,” Dex answers with a cautious note in his voice.
“Don’t ask,” Wrath warns.
“I’m mixing laxatives and weed. Guess what I’m calling it?” Sparky presses a fist to his lips like he’s trying to swallow the answer.
Dex inhales a slow, patient breath. “Shits and giggles?”
“Aw, man.” Sparky tips his head back and presses his hands over his eyes. “Did I already tell you that one?”
“No,” another biker says. “It’s obvious as fuck.”
“Bet you weren’t expecting ‘botany for the insane’ this morning, were you?” Rooster asks, smiling down at me.
“That was not on my Bingo card,” I agree.
“No one will ever believe ya if ya try tellin ’em hanging out with the Lost Kings Motorcycle Club is ninety percent sex jokes and weed puns,” Shelby says.
“If weed puns are a sin, I’ll see youinhale,” Sparky giggles into his hands.
Shelby shakes with laughter. “Cute.”
“Wait, what’s the other ten percent?” Sparky asks.
Shelby shrugs. “Sex on pool tables? I’ve been to a bunch of ya’lls clubhouses now. Ain’t seen one of ya use a pool table for its intended purpose yet.”
“That’s the appeal,” another bearded biker says. “Fornicating on objects not meant to see that kind of action.”
Rooster slides a slow look at his friend. “Fornicating? Really?”
I laugh and press myself close to Dex’s side. “They’re right. This is not at all what I expected.”
Rooster’s friend moves in and rakes his gaze over me. “I missed you last night.”
Dex holds me tighter. “Jigsaw, this is Emily. Emily, Jigsaw is the RC at our downstate charter.”
“Oh! Dex’s job,” I blurt out.
Jigsaw flicks an amused glance at Dex.
“Be nice, Jiggy,” Shelby warns.
“I’m always nice, songbird.”
“Debatable,” Shelby mutters, cracking up the guys.
“Oh, there’s Trinity,” Shelby shouts, jumping up and waving her hand wildly. “Dex, can I borrow your girl?” Shelby asks, gripping my arm in a tight hold that suggests she won’t accept no for an answer.
Rooster hooks his finger in the hood of Shelby’s sweatshirt, dragging her backward. He leans down, whispering something in her ear, then plants a long, lingering kiss on her lips.
“For fuck’s sake,” Jigsaw moans. “She’s gonna be ten feet away.”
Without coming up for air, Rooster throws out a hand, hitting Jigsaw in the chest and shoving him into Sparky.
“Clowns,” Dex mutters to me. “I told you.”
