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He was glad that they all had Alaskan king beds as standard in the clubhouse, 108 inches of pure soft mattress, so there was room for them all.
Was he jealous? Knowing the boys had Penny? Honestly, no. He wasn’t. He should feel something, he knew it, but he didn’t. Whether his brain wasn't working right or his heart wasn’t working right, he wasn’t sure. It was probably both, knowing his luck. How would he feel watching one of the boys rail Penny?
Fuck. His cock pulsed in his briefs thinking about it. Watching both of the boys rail her. Lyle had to put his hand over his mouth to stop himself from groaning out loud. He shouldn’t feel this. But he was just fucking glad to feel anything. He’d take it.
He needed to take a break, otherwise he was just going to end up jacking himself off onto the dry-wall he’d just screwed in. He needed a change of scenery. Stretch his legs. He’d head downstairs, get some lunch. See what the chef had cooked up today. What had he had yesterday? He couldn’t remember. Had he eaten lunch yesterday? Fuck he had no idea. His brain cells were fried. His body was wrecked. He didn’t deserve a fresh, peachy woman like Penny. Fuck, she didn’t deserve him. She deserved better. That’s where Nix and Ash came in. They were better.
Lyle loped to the elevator, a private one to the penthouse, and stared at the reflection of himselfin the mirroras it descended.
Rafe was staring at the TV that was on above the bar when Lyle sauntered in.
“What’s on the menu today?” he asked, clapping his hands together eagerly.
“Prawn gumbo,” Rafe replied, not taking his eyes off the screen.
Lyle frowned and followed his gaze.
“Dude, it’s just the weather, why you watching so intently?”
Rafe barely blinked. “Er, it’s not just the weather, Lyle, it’s fucking Bella Sanderson presenting the fucking weather…” Rafe said as if it were obvious.
“Who?” Lyle replied, staring up at the woman talking through the cloud movements for the next twenty-four hours. Yeah, she was a hot, older woman.
“She could be your mother.” Lyle frowned and turned back to the bar.
Rita was making herself a cocktail behind the bar, shaking the cocktail shaker vigorously.
“Rafe’s crushed on her for years, he loves the fucking weather.” She rolled her eyes. “Anyway, how’s it going upstairs?”
Lyle pursed his lips. Him and Rita didn’t always see eye to eye on things. But she was being civil, so he should return the favor.
“Fine… just dusty, bending down, you know…”
“You on it alone?”
“Today, yes.”
Rita wrinkled her nose. “Ask Jared if you can get any more hands on it. Some of the younger guys could-”
“All out on runs,” Lyle shrugged, interrupting.
“Okay, well,” Rita tried to be patient, Lyle could hear it in her voice, “what about Max? He’s outside, you could ask him-”
“Yeah I could, I should clear it with Jared first though, he around?”
Rita shook her head. “Nah.” She poured the fruity concoction into a martini glass carefully, bending so her eye level was in line with the rim of the glass.
Rafe explained, though, without turning away from the screen, “Jared’s been sick or something, dunno what’s up with him recently, he said he had an appointment or something, at the hospital…”
“I thought he seemed a bit thin and pale recently,” Rita said, calmly watching the glass fill with precision.
Lyle hadn’t noticed anything up with Jared. There was probably a lot of stuff that he hadn’t noticed lately.
Sully, the new prospect, sat down at the table nearby with a loaded plate.
“Yo, what’s for lunch?” Lyle asked him, heading over to join him.
Sully was normally an easy-going guy. Mid thirties, dark blonde hair. Served. Did time. Had shit go wrong and joined the MC. A simple backstory to an easy-going guy.
