Chapter 8
EIGHT
brI
I walk across the street to Sugar Rush, the bell chiming overhead as I push inside.
The scent of espresso, warm vanilla, and something covered in glaze hits me like a hug from a sugar fairy.
It’s actually rude how good it smells. I’m trying to be a responsible adult who doesn’t inhale three cinnamon rolls before noon. The universe is clearly not on my side.
Ansley’s behind the counter, hair in one of her messy buns that somehow looks trendy instead of chaotic, wiping down the espresso machine like a pro while scrolling her phone with the kind of multitasking skill only a caffeine dealer possesses.
She looks up when she hears the bell. “Well, well. Look who’s up before noon on a Saturday.” She smirks, one brow lifting. “Let me guess. Work?”
I sigh dramatically and lean my elbows on the counter. “I’m just grabbing coffee before heading in. The guys still need payroll wrapped up and I want the inventory updated before Monday.”
Ansley hands me a look that could be sold as a productivity intervention. “Bri. Honey. You have been there literally all week. You are allowed to not be a spreadsheet wizard for one day.”
I grin, even though I know she’s right. “It’s still new. Mason’s trusting me with a lot. I just want to do a good job.”
She softens and reaches for a cup. “You’ve only been the Iron Reapers’ official office boss for five days and they already love you.”
I roll my eyes. “They love me because I bring donuts every morning.”
“That too,” she laughs, starting my drink. “But seriously. How’s it going? You liking it?”
“I actually do,” I admit, playing with a sugar packet. “It feels good to use my degree again. And the guys are… something.” I snort. “Half of them act like inventory forms are a personal attack.”
Ansley laughs so hard she’s wheezing. “I can picture it. A bunch of tatted-up bikers losing their minds over paperwork.”
“You have no idea,” I say, shaking my head. “Rev threatened to set the supply closet on fire if I made him look at another form.”
Ansley grins. “And Blade?”
My stomach does this traitorous little flip and I pretend stirring imaginary coffee will hide it. “He’s… Blade.”
“That’s not an answer,” she sing-songs.
“That’s all the answer you get,” I shoot back quickly. “Coffee first. Probing later.”
She laughs and slides the cup toward me, the lid snapping into place. “Fine. But tonight, we’re going out. You’re wearing twenty-something clothes and we’re doing something stupid.”
I take the cup, comforted by warmth and caffeine and the fact she knows exactly when I need a push. “We’ll see.”
“No ‘we’ll see,’” she counters immediately. “You. Me. Real pants. Fun. The end.”
I groan but a smile slips out anyway. “You’re exhausting.”
“And you secretly adore me,” she says, winking.
I do. And right now, this is exactly what I needed.
“Let’s go to Perdition,” I say, straightening. “The guys were talking about some college kids coming in lately. Apparently, they’ve been causing all kinds of trouble.”
Ansley makes a face. “Ew. Why would we willingly hang out with college kids? I’m looking for a man, Bri. Not someone who just learned how to do laundry last semester.”
I laugh, grabbing a piece of banana bread off the counter and tearing off a chunk. “I’m not trying to hook up with them. I just want to watch one of them poke the wrong biker and get their ass handed to them.”
Her eyes widen. “That’s dark.”
“It’d be kind of hot,” I say through a mouthful of bread.
Ansley throws her head back, laughing. “Okay, yeah, watching Tank throw some arrogant frat boy across a table does sound mildly therapeutic.”
“Right? Like real-life stress relief.”
She leans in, voice dropping a little. “You just want to see Blade in action.”
I roll my eyes. “That is not true.”
“Oh please. You light up like a damn Christmas tree anytime that man grunts in your direction.”
I pop the rest of the bread into my mouth and smirk. “Whatever gets the people to the bar, right?”
She grins. “Fine. I’m in. But only if you promise to dress like we’re not librarians on our night off.”
“I make no promises.”
“Boots, Bri.”
“I own boots.”
“Sexy boots.”
I groan. “You’re exhausting.”
“And you love me.”
Unfortunately, she’s right. And unfortunately… she’s also right about Blade. Which is why tonight? Might be a very bad idea. Or a very entertaining one.
Back at the house, the energy shifts the second we walk through the door.
Music’s already playing, some girl power anthem blaring from the Bluetooth speaker in the kitchen.
Ansley disappears into her room to change, yelling something down the hall about winged eyeliner and divine feminine energy like she’s preaching a sermon.
I head to my bedroom, already knowing what kind of night I want to have.
Tonight’s not about playing it safe. It’s about feeling bold.
Beautiful. A little reckless. I pull on my favorite pair of black skintight jeans, the ones that fit like they were custom-made for my thighs and don’t apologize for a damn thing.
Then I slide into my boots. The boots. Tall, black, and sexy as hell, with a little heel that makes me feel like I could strut into a war zone and leave men weeping.
The shirt takes a second to commit to, but I go for it, a red one, tight and low-cut, showing just enough to leave no doubt that I know what I’m doing.
It's a little flashy, a little too much, and exactly what I need. Not because I want some guy to drool over me, though, let’s be real, one or two free drinks wouldn’t hurt, but because I want to feel good. Wanted. In control.
I check myself in the mirror and smile. Confident. Bold. Like someone who doesn’t just observe the chaos, she starts it.
Ansley steps out of her room a few minutes later, pausing mid-walk. “Damn, Bri.”
I turn, doing a little twirl. “Too much?”
She gives me a slow up-and-down and smirks. “That top is going to make at least three men lose the ability to form coherent sentences.”
“Good,” I say, grabbing my lip gloss. “Let ‘em stutter.”
She laughs, slinging her purse over her shoulder. “You’re not looking for a hookup though, right?”
I shake my head, sliding my phone into my bag. “Nah. I just want a drink… and maybe to watch a cocky frat boy get body-slammed by a biker.”
Ansley snorts. “You’re twisted.”
I grin. “I know. Isn’t it great?”
And yeah, maybe part of me is hoping a certain moody biker happens to be at Perdition tonight. Not that I care. But it wouldn’t kill him to look at me like he sees me. Not just as Bella’s little sister. But as a woman who knows exactly what she’s doing. Even when she’s playing with fire.
Thirty minutes later we turn onto the gravel road leading up to the Iron Reapers compound, the tires crunching as we wind toward the gates. The music from Perdition is already thumping faintly through the air, familiar and loud, like a pulse dragging us in.
Ansley’s leaning back in the passenger seat, one leg crossed over the other, totally relaxed. “Place is already hoppin’. Bet the bar’s packed.”
I smirk. “Always is on a Saturday.”
We’ve been to Perdition more times than I can count, birthdays, post-breakup nights, random Tuesdays that needed a shot of tequila and poor decisions. It’s kind of our thing. Half the club probably assumes we live there on weekends.
As we pull up to the gate, one of the probies stands from his little chair, stretching like he’s been there all day. He squints at the windshield, sees me behind the wheel, and gives a small shake of his head like this one again.
He steps closer and leans into my open window, eyes doing a quick once-over before locking onto my top. His brows shoot up.
“Evenin’, Bri,” he says, tone somewhere between amused and exasperated. “That shirt’s gonna give someone a heart attack.”
I roll my eyes. “Tell them to get in line.”
He huffs a laugh and pulls the gate open. “Be safe, alright?”
“Yeah, yeah.” I flash a grin. “You too, gatekeeper.”
As we roll through, Ansley grins over at me. “It’s the way they all look at you like you’re made of glass and dynamite.”
“It’s the little sister complex,” I mutter. “I’ve been around so long, they forget I’m an adult with boots and attitude.”
“They’re not forgetting,” she says, cocking her head. “They’re just pretending. Probably easier than admitting they’re all a little scared of what you’ll do when someone pisses you off.”
I laugh as we pull into a spot near the bar, my pulse picking up just a little as I spot Blade’s bike parked out front.
“Let’s make it a good night,” I say, stepping out and smoothing my hands down my jeans.
Ansley grins. “Oh, we always do.”
And tonight? Yeah, it’s definitely got that kind of energy.