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Laura grabbed a zip-up hoodie and pulled it on, then snatched her purse before storming past me. I watched her ass sway in the tight jeans she wore. Her loose bun bobbed while she stomped, and more pieces began to fall around her shoulders, coming undone. She seemed completely unbothered by it.
“Where is your truck?” she snapped, folding her arms over her chest.
My eyes traveled there next, ogling her tits. She had the best rack of anyone I’d ever seen, but I wasn’t a tit man, nor was I an ass man. I was usually drawn to women who were a bit edgier, covered in tattoos, leather and piercings. Nothing like the blonde-haired, blue-eyed pixie fuming in front of me.
“Garage,” I clipped, jogging down the steps and striding across the gravel. I gave a long look toward my bike while Laura trailed after me.
Her face was down, and that was good. The less we interacted the better.
When we entered the large garage off the side of the clubhouse, I unlocked the doors and Laura quickly cut toward the passenger side. The gunmetal gray F150 sat taller with the lift I’d just had added to it, but with the foot bar, she shouldn’t have an issue.
Once we were both inside, and she shut her door, I tried to ignore the subtle hints of citrus coming from her. It was orange and lemon, something spicy and addicting.
“You want to brush that mop out of your eyes, or you good?” I started the truck, knowing I was being a prick, but her beauty got under my skin. She was too pretty, and it made me aware of her in a way that bordered on obsessive, which I didn’t like.
She slid her hands into her hair and let the weight fall as she pulled the elastic free. The citrus aroma amplified, and the way her hair looked, long and shiny, while being curled on the ends, fuck, it was perfect.
“Are we going to drive, or did you forget how?” Her blue eyes finally slid over, narrowing on me.
I hated that she was able to verbally spar with me. I cleared my throat and started the truck.
The overcast sky stretched overhead as we made our way toward the city. She began looking through her purse, pausing briefly on a list in her hand, before swapping over to her cell. She was focused, ignoring me, and I didn’t like it.
“So, you’re apartment hunting?”
Her eyes stayed on her lap. “Yeah.”
I looked over quickly before refocusing on the road. “Find anything good?”
She made a small humming sound but didn’t reply.
Fuck, I hated how we always seemed to fall into this role right here. I would be a prick, she would fight back, I’d get hard and want her to lower her walls, but she’d just throw up a middle finger, and we’d be in a fight. I’d never met anyone like her; most women wanted me. Or some aspect at least, my position in the club, or just a chance to suck my dick; either way, they were agreeable.
“So where do you need to stop first?”
She finally looked over at me. “The Dollar General.”
Flipping my blinker, I turned down the street for the butcher. “They don’t open for another hour or so.”
“Shit,” she breathed, crossing something out on her list.
“You need to grab some meat from the butcher, right?” I pulled into one of the open spaces in front of the shop. The smoke house had a raised porch, and an old, battered door that was abused by the weather, and hadn’t been repaired in years.
Laura pulled her list closer to her face. “Yeah, I need to get patties and brats.”
I jumped out and rounded the truck, not really thinking about opening the door for her but doing it regardless.
“I used to be the one who had to hunt all this stuff down back when we had big events.”
Laura tilted her face to the side, keeping in step with me as we scaled the steps.
“The last one would have been for Wes, right?”
Her remark hit painfully hard. Months later, and it still felt like a rough rock being scraped over exposed flesh. Going back to that moment when Simon had announced to everyone that Wes would be the new president after his passing. Regardless that I had been acting vice president for over six years. He’d selected Wes, and not me and I simply had to accept it. Wes had tried to assuage my shame by explaining that he’d only been selected because Simon knew it was temporary.
Still fucking hurt. I was the backup plan, no other way to spin it in my head.
“Yep.”
