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Ingrid spots me, and a sly smirk appears on her lips as I approach.
“South, I see you’ve transitioned here okay.”
That voice is like a fucking angel.
“Better now I know you’re here to greet me,” I reply cockily.
She lets out a stifled laugh while rolling her eyes. “Flattering as that is, I’m not here to greet you. I’m here to see my daughter. You know, the woman who’s a year older than you are, and she is theyoungestof my children.”
I only see that as a challenge, not a deterrent.
“Age is only a number.”
She bites her bottom lip—goddamn, that little gesture sends all sorts of signals to my dick.
My words obviously affect her.
“Not when you’re the mother of so many people who belong to this club, South. Back off.”
Smirking, I lean in closer. Ingrid’s fruity perfume fills my senses as I press my lips to her ear and whisper a breath over her skin. “If you wanted me to back off, you wouldn’t still be here.”
She jerks her head back, her eyes wide, as she straightens out her already straight shirt. “Jesus Christ,” she murmurs, turns, and walks briskly toward Novah, where she’s standing, watching us, her eyes narrowed in question.
I smile, waving to Novah, but she reaches out for her mother, ignoring my greeting, and then they walk off together.
“Making waves already…” Chuckling, I click my tongue to the roof of my mouth. “Doing good, South,” I mumble to myself.
I make my way to the bar, where Jaz is smirking and trying hard to hold in a laugh. As I sit on the stool, she slides a beer my way, and I dip my head at her in thanks. Then she raises her brow at me like she’s waiting for me to say something, and I shrug. “What?” I ask.
She can’t help but let out a small laugh. “You really think hitting on Ingrid in the first ten minutes of you being here is the right message to send?”
I take a long sip of my beer, swiveling on my stool, and turn to look at Ingrid. “I don’t know if you’d call thathittingon her exactly. I’d call it… letting her know she has options.”
“Mmm… word of advice, South. If you want to keep your limbs intact, stay away from anyone in the Ladet family. You have to be a special kinda someone to be accepted into their fold.”
My eyes shift to Grit, and I raise a brow. “You mean, be more like Grit because it took a lot for him to be accepted by Hurricane for Lani?”
“That’s not what I’m saying. Youcan’tbe like Grit. No one can be like Grit. He’s one of a kind. The way he treats Lani and her disabilities? I mean… the guy’s a fucking saint. No one can compete with him.”
Tilting my head, I grin. “With all due respect, Jaz, I don’t think Ingrid needs a saint.”
Jaz wipes the bar and doesn’t look at me. “I don’t want to speak out of turn toward a brother, and it’s probably not my place, but I’m only looking out for you when I say this, okay? I don’t think Ingrid needs a boy toy, South. She’s well respected here.Everyoneloves her. She doesn’t need you coming in here making bedroom eyes at her, making her feel uncomfortable in her own home.”
Well, shit! That hit right where it was meant to.
The last thing I want to do is make Ingrid uncomfortable.
“Yeah… you’re right. I’ll back off. My priority is to the club. To Hurricane. Everything else is just white noise.”
Jaz reaches out, placing her hand on mine. “Like I said, you’ll find your feet. Just don’t run at everything like a bull at a gate. Baby steps, South.”
“Baby steps,” I reply, then neck the rest of my beer. I slam the glass down on the bar and wipe my bearded chin with the back of my hand. “Speaking of Hurricane, I better go find him. Any idea on where our illustrious leader might be?”
Jaz tilts her head to the back door. “Try down on the bayou. I heard he and City were going down there to discuss some things.”
Winking, I stand and exhale. “Thanks for the pep talk. You’re good at this club girl thing.”
She beams with pride. “Thanks, I’m getting the hang of it.”
