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“Let me guess, your club friends?” she asked.
“Brothers. They’re called brothers,” I told her.
“I did a little research on bike clubs,” she admitted.
“Oh, yeah?” I asked, a little more charmed than I expected.
“Yeah. It sounds… suffocating to be around all those people all the time,” she said.
“It can be. Especially when you’re not in the headspace for it. But there’s something special about the club. It’s a family. You always have someone around to lean on or hang out with. I’ve got a dozen or so cousins that aren’t actually cousins because of this club. Never got lonely as a kid. Or adult for that matter.”
“And, you know, there’s the bikini-clad bobbing-for-apples pool parties,” she said, shooting me a smile.
“Christ. They bobbed for apples?” I asked, thinking of poor Brooks trying to put an end to that. Fruitlessly. Pun intended.
“And other fruit,” Lexy confirmed.
“Your sister, has she always been a party girl?” I asked.
“Lottie just… likes people. I know, bizarre,” she said, shaking her head. “But it’s like being social actually charges her battery instead of draining it. She doesn’t like being alone. So, it’s not always parties. She does brunches and beach days. She plans and goes on girls trips. But late at night, there aren’t a lot of options but bars and clubs. So, that’s where she ends up. House parties like that are less likely, but not unheard of.”
“I get that. Sully always wants people around too. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him alone for more than a few minutes at a time. But I figure maybe that has something to do with being around people all the time while he was in service. Or because of PTSD or something.”
“That guy does not give off former military vibes. The other one kind of does, though…”
“Callow,” I supplied. “They served together at one point.”
“Do you have a lot of ex-military?”
“No. We get more lifelong criminals.”
“Like Perish.”
“Exactly,” I agreed. “It makes more sense for them to want in an organization like this. And it makes it easier for us to trust them when we know they’re familiar with the shit that goes on with the club.”
“This shit,” she said. “Does it get violent?”
“Yeah,” I said, nodding. “Not all the time. We have long stretches of nothing going on. But I’d be lying if I said blood doesn’t get spilled on occasion.”
“Other criminals?” she asked.
“Yeah. I mean, sometimes the girls that come into the club, come with their own bad guys chasing them. And they’ve gotten hurt in the process. But it’s never gotten too bad for the women. Thank fuck.”
“The kids?” she asked.
“Never gotten hurt. My sister, once, back in the day. But that’s… a long fucking story involving a fucked up family history.”
“I’ve got most of my drink to go,” she said, holding it up.
With that, I went ahead and launched into it. But, of course, to tell Ferryn’s story, I had to go way back, telling my mother and father’s stories, then having to segue into like a dozen other stories before I finally circled back to Ferryn.
By the time I was done pretty much giving her the entire history of Navesink Bank for two generations, my throat hurt from talking so much, and Lexy’s mouth had fallen slightly open.
“Jesus,” she said finally, tipping back the rest of her drink, and exhaling a breath.
“Yeah, it’s a lot when you recount it all at once,” I agreed, sipping my own drink. “Want a refill?” I asked.
“Yes,” she said, handing me her glass.
I went ahead and refilled before turning on a record as we both kind of sat with our own thoughts for a while.
I had been lost in my own head when I suddenly felt her snuggle into my side, her head on my shoulder, her body pressed against my arm.
I pulled the glass out of her hand, placing it down on the table at my side with my own, before wrapping my arm around her.
She snuggled in closer, stealing my warmth as the air conditioning kicked up again.
I sat there just enjoying the feel of her there with me, letting the music run out. Only then did I reach to pull her back into my arms, and move her into the bed, slipping her under the covers, then going back into the main area of the house to lock the door, turn off the lights, and bring her luggage into the room and bathroom, so she had everything she might need if she woke up in the middle of the night.
It wasn’t until I was climbing into the bed with her that I realized that I’d never had a woman in my bed before.
In bed, yes.
I was no saint.
But I’d only ever had women at the club.
Not at my house.
I flicked off the light, then lay there staring up at the ceiling in the dark, willing my body to calm down, to not get any ideas.
