Chapter 13
Chapter thirteen
Camryn
The bar is loud when we step in, everyone dancing to the music on the jukebox before the band takes the stage.
“Jesus Christ, Lucifer, did you bring us to a honky-tonk?” Jude asks his woman.
Lucy looks absolutely adorable in her miniskirt and red cowgirl boots paired with a tight-fitting off-the-shoulder shirt that fits snuggly around her small baby bump.
“Well, technically, you brought us here,” she answers. “And did the boots not give it away?”
“It’s not the boots that got my attention, but the length of that skirt.
” Jude gives her a heated stare and spins her around so she’s facing him.
One of his hands reaches toward the hem of said skirt, and his fingers dance along her thigh underneath.
At least I’m hoping it’s just her thigh. “You look fucking edible, love.”
“Oh, get a room, you two. Since Lucy’s been pregnant, you guys have been a pair of horny teenagers,” Linc says, slinging his arm over Charlie’s shoulders.
“Just wait until your woman is knocked up. You won’t be able to keep your hands off her,” Jude says, shooting Linc an arrogant grin.
“Charming,” Lucy deadpans. Jude pays no notice of her tone or doesn’t care—my money would be on the latter—and presses his mouth to hers.
“Okay, let’s get drinks. I’m not about to stand around all night and watch you two make out,” Barrett announces, and he grabs my hand. “Come on, pup. I need a beer.”
We head to the bar with my hand clasped in his much larger one. When Barrett asks me for my order and I tell him a whiskey seven, Lucy has a pleased look on her face.
“I knew I liked you,” she says. “God, a whiskey seven sounds so good right now.”
“How about a whiskey seven minus the whiskey,” Charlie says, standing next to me, bellied up to the bar.
“Doesn’t exactly have the same ring to it, but it’ll do,” Lucy responds. “Maybe coming to a bar and not being able to drink wasn’t the best idea I’ve ever had,” Lucy says sullenly, accepting the nonalcoholic drink from Charlie.
“Come on now, Lucifer, when have you ever needed to drink to have a good time? I seem to remember a few very good times we’ve had recently.”
“For the love of God, man, give it a rest. You can’t knock her up again,” Barrett says with a laugh.
“Funny, coming from you. The way you used to act, it was like you were making it a one-man mission to get as many strippers pregnant as you could,” Jude says, and Lucy smacks him in the chest.
Barrett spears Jude with a nasty look, and Jude’s gaze darts between him and Lucy. “What?” he asks, and Lucy rolls her eyes but doesn’t say anything.
It’s not like I don’t know that Barrett has a past. My sister is part of it, unfortunately. Syd isn’t here by immaculate conception, after all, but I haven’t seen that side of Barrett.
Since living together, he’s been home most every night and hasn’t come in drunk off his ass or with anyone.
I’ll admit, I was almost expecting that kind of behavior since we’d never talked about house rules or anything of the sort.
But what I got instead was a man who comes home and eats dinner with his daughter, then goes to sleep at a reasonable hour.
Definitely not what I would have considered the norm.
Seems I’ve been wrong about a lot of things involved with being a biker. At least with these guys.
Or I would think that if Jude hadn’t made that little comment.
“Oh, the band’s coming on. Thank God,” Lucy says, shooting Jude a withering look. “Come on, girls, let’s get up front.”
“Hey, Jude!” All of us turn our heads toward the bar and a man wearing a shirt that reads Security on the front. His arm is extended, and he has a big smile on his face.
“Mikey!” Jude clasps the man’s hand. “You work here?”
“Yeah, man. Just started.”
“You remember my woman, Lucy?”
“Good to see you,” Mikey says, smiling at Lucy.
Lucy smiles at the beast of a man. “Hey, Mikey. Nice to see you without blood pouring from your nose.”
Mikey and Jude share a laugh—and I’m confused.
My brows dip, and I look at Charlie. “Mikey and Jude occasionally fight at the same underground club,” she informs me.
“I’m sorry, they what?” I’ve heard rumors about those kinds of places, but I’ve never actually known anyone who fights at them.
“A friend of ours owns a couple bars in Boston. They have fight nights in the basement about once a month. Jude and the owner are a crowd favorite. Especially when they fight each other.”
Huh, that’s…not the most shocking thing I could have imagined. It’s not like I don’t know these guys aren’t saints. It only makes sense that their hobbies would include something a little less than legal.
“Come on. I didn’t drag Jude here to stand around all night.” Lucy grabs Charlie’s hand and mine and pulls us toward the stage.
“Don’t mind Jude. He doesn’t know when to keep his mouth shut,” Lucy says loudly into my ear so I can hear her over the music blaring from the speakers in front of us. “The man doesn’t have a filter to save his life.”
Charlie laughs, obviously hearing what Lucy said, standing on the other side of her. “Tell me, has your pot met Jude’s kettle?”
“I’m just saying, Barrett has been different since Sydney and Camryn showed up,” Lucy says, rolling her eyes.
“He’s a dad now. He has responsibilities he didn’t have before,” I tell the two women. “Of course he’s going to be different.”
“It’s more than that. Trust me, the Barrett I knew had his priorities in check, don’t get me wrong. The club and our family came first, just like all the other guys, but this responsible side of him isn’t anything I’ve ever seen before. You turned a ho into a housewife,” Lucy says.
I throw my head back, laughing at Lucy’s ridiculous take on our situation.
“You laugh, but I’m right,” she says, shooting me a knowing look. “He’s a changed man.”
Lucy turns her attention to the band on stage, effectively ending our conversation, but I’m left wondering how much Barrett has changed—and how long it’s going to last.
My mind wanders to the scene from this morning with him cooking breakfast for Syd and being the kind of dad he wished he’d had.
Then I think about my sister, and how in the last couple years, she couldn’t be bothered to even open her eyes when Syd left for school.
Of course, that thought sends a pang of guilt through me.
He told me they were nothing more than a couple of teenagers who hooked up every once in a while.
But I can’t help feeling as though I’m somehow betraying her memory with the thoughts I’ve been having about her…
what? Baby daddy? He’s not really her ex, and it’s not as though they had any sort of deeper relationship.
Not like the one we’ve been building. But it’s not really a relationship, is it?
It’s a partnership. Nothing has happened that I should feel bad about.
God, get it together, Cam. You’re here to enjoy a band and have fun, not ruminate over things that aren’t happening.
After about thirty minutes, the band switches from the country-rock that we’ve all been dancing to, to a more twangy country-western song, slowing it down enough for couples to dance.
Lucy heads back over to the bar where the guys are standing, and Charlie follows her.
Before I make it off the dance floor, a man about my age steps in front of me, holding out his hand.
“Dance with me?” he asks with a bright smile.
I’ll admit, I’m not the best at the two-step, but he looks hopeful, and I don’t have the heart to tell him no.
“Sure,” I say, sliding my palm into his.
He places a hand low on my waist, and I put mine on his shoulder. He starts leading me around the dance floor confidently, which is a good thing. He’s obviously a lot more experienced than I am, and I need all the help I can get to keep up with him.
“What’s your name?” he asks as I try not to trip over my feet.
“Camryn. Yours?”
“Chris. You have a boyfriend?”
I shake my head and he gets a wide grin on his face.
“Does he know that?”
My brows furrow, confused by what Chris just said. His eyes dart to where the guys are standing at the bar with Charlie and Lucy, and I turn my head to look. Barrett is standing with his back against the bar, his arms crossed at his chest. He’s glowering at Chris and me dancing.
“Definitely not my boyfriend.” And this song isn’t long enough to explain exactly who Barrett is to me, not that I have the answer to that question myself.
“You didn’t come with him?” Chris asks.
“He’s my ride, but that’s it.”
Chris’s smile widens and turns more wolfish than the sweet one he was wearing moments before. “Care to try a spin?”
Before I can answer, he whips me out and pulls me back in, his hand even lower on my waist as his other cups the side of my neck, never breaking the two-step rhythm. I have to admit, this guy is making me look like I know what I’m doing.
“Do you live around here?” he asks. The pungent smell of tequila hits me in the face now that he’s a hell of a lot closer to me than before. I’m starting to get the feeling this guy is looking for more than just a dance.
“About a half hour away,” I answer as I attempt to put some distance between us.
“Maybe I can give you a ride home instead of your friend.”
“My friend is also my roommate, so…”
“Then maybe I can give you a ride to my place.” Chris’s hand moves lower and squeezes. I stop dancing, ready to knee this guy in the balls, because what the actual fuck? Since when did a dance become an invitation for a fucking ass grab?
“I’m cutting in,” a deep voice behind me says.
Chris and I look over at a very pissed-off biker standing about a foot from us. Couples dance around him so as not to knock into him, but he pays them absolutely no attention as he stares at the man grabbing my ass.
“The lady is fine where she is,” Chris says, thankfully moving his hand back to my waist, pulling me to his side.
“I wasn’t asking,” Barrett tells him.