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Python takes me into the clubhouse.
Oakleigh emerges from the back, her face lighting up the moment she sees me.
She’s wearing a tight tank top with the club logo and ripped jean shorts that show off her tattooed legs.
Her long braids are pulled back in a messy ponytail, and her dark chocolate eyes sparkle with excitement.
She comes right over to me, a beaming smile spreading across her face. “Astra! I’m so glad you came!”
A loud meow comes from the cat carrier I’m holding, and Oakleigh immediately squats down. “Who is this?”
“You remember Maleficent, right?”
Oakleigh glances up at me for a split second and opens the carrier, pulling Maleficent into her arms. “Oh, I sure do.”
She immediately starts purring, and I smile to myself, happy that another one of the cats has found a good home.
“She’s been in the café for a while, and no one wants her because she only has one eye. I thought since the two of you got along so well that I could bring her here.”
Oakleigh’s smile tells me everything I need to know. “One thousand percent. I’ll have to convince my ol’ man, but he’ll come around.”
I smirk. “Perfect.”
She leads me through the throng of bikers, introducing me as her friend who owns the cat café slash art gallery.
Most of them nod politely, though a couple of them have their eyes trained on my body for a little longer than I’m comfortable with.
Python positioned himself between us and started chatting with the men who were staring at me, and I liked how he swooped in.
Was my uncomfortableness that obvious?
Oakleigh and I end up sitting on a couch away from the two main sectionals in the living area.
She leaves me for a brief moment with Maleficent while she runs upstairs to grab a few of the pieces that she’s currently working on.
I love how proud she is of her work, yet she isn’t cocky in the least bit.
She’s humble, and that’s a rarity.
I’m honestly interested in the paintings she has in front of me. They’re gorgeous abstract pieces that paint a clear picture of the dilemma in her mind.
The one I’m staring at is a mixture of black, white, and gray, but color pops out through the middle. It’s almost like the color is struggling to come through.
Furrowing my brows, I have to know what the message is here. “It’s beautiful and yet painful at the same time.”
Oakleigh licks her lips. “Yeah, I really pulled out some of my struggles and put them on the canvas for this collection.”
I offer her a soft smile. “That’s where some artists’ best work comes from.”
Oakleigh changes the subject to the café, and the two of us sit here and talk for a while.
Yet, my mind keeps wandering back to the man who just so happens to be in this damn clubhouse.
Another biker I haven’t seen enters the room, his face twisting into a scowl the moment his eyes land on the cat in Oakleigh’s arms. “What in the hell is that?”
Oakleigh rolls her eyes. “A cat.” She pauses for a moment and looks at me. “That’s my ol’ man, Razor, by the way.”
Ah, now it makes sense.
