Chapter 2 #2
"Most of the time," I reply, then immediately regret the admission. The last thing I want is to get into the messy details of why I really came home.
His expression sharpens. "Most of the time?"
Before I can deflect, Dad's voice cuts through the moment. "Greyson! There you are, son."
Dad approaches with the easy familiarity of someone who's known Greyson since he was a kid causing trouble with my brothers. But there's also a subtle assessment in his eyes, in the way he positions himself slightly between us.
"Mr. Bennett." Greyson extends his hand. "Thank you for including us tonight."
"Wouldn't be the same without the Devil Souls," Dad replies, though his grip lingers a moment longer than necessary. "How's your father doing in retirement?"
"Driving my mother crazy, mostly," Greyson answers with a genuine smile that transforms his entire face. "He keeps trying to reorganize the garage."
Dad chuckles. "Sounds about right. Hard to step back when you've been in charge for so long."
I watch this exchange with fascination. The easy camaraderie between the clubs, the respect between the men, but also the undercurrents I'm only now beginning to understand as an adult.
Dad's acceptance of Greyson as the new president, but also his subtle reminder that I'm still his daughter, still under his protection.
"I should go find your mother." Dad’s hand briefly touches my shoulder. "She's probably cornered someone with baby pictures by now."
As he walks away, the bubble settles around Greyson and me again. The weight of his attention is both thrilling and terrifying.
"So." He steps slightly closer. "Hair stylist. Following in your aunt's footsteps?"
"Something like that." I'm surprised he knows. "Though I suspect Aunt Brittany has bigger plans than I'm ready for."
"She's been telling anyone who'll listen that you're going to put Steel Magnolias on the map." Amusement flickers in his eyes. "Apparently you did some celebrity's hair for a movie premiere?"
I laugh, some of the tension easing. "A few times. Though mostly it was just rich women who wanted to feel important."
"Not your scene?"
"Not really." I pause, studying his face. "What about you? Is running the club everything you thought it would be?"
Something shifts in his expression, a weight settling over his features that makes him look older than his years. "It's what I was born to do."
That's not really an answer, but before I can push further, Trenton appears beside us, his presence breaking the intimate atmosphere that had been building.
"Prez." He nods to Greyson before turning to me with a wide grin. "Livie. Look at you, all grown up and fancy."
"Hey, Trent," I say, accepting his hug. He's always been like another brother to me, though I notice the way Greyson's jaw tightens slightly at the casual contact.
"How long before you get bored with small-town life again?" Trent asks, echoing Mason's question from dinner.
"Why does everyone keep asking me that?" I laugh, though there's an edge to it. "Maybe I learned something while I was gone."
"Yeah? What's that?"
I look around the room, at the familiar faces, the easy laughter, the sense of belonging I'd been searching for in LA and never found. My eyes drift back to Greyson, who's watching me with an intensity that makes my breath catch.
"That some things are worth coming back for."
The words hang between us, charged with meaning. Greyson's eyes darken, and for a moment, I see something raw and unguarded in his expression.
Trent glances between us, a knowing smirk forming. "I'll just… go find the beer. You two catch up." He backs away with an exaggerated casualness that would be comical if my heart wasn't hammering so hard.
"Dance with me," Greyson says suddenly, the words more of a command than a question.
My eyebrows lift in surprise. "I didn't know you danced."
"There's a lot you don't know about me." He extends his hand, those blue eyes never leaving mine. "Yet."
That single word 'yet' sends electricity racing down my spine. I place my hand in his, trying to ignore how perfectly it fits there, how the calluses on his palm feel against my skin.
The music has shifted to something slower, and couples have started swaying together in the cleared area near the pool tables.
Greyson leads me there, his hand warm at the small of my back.
When he turns to face me, there's a moment of hesitation before he pulls me closer, one hand settling on my waist while the other keeps hold of mine.
"Everyone's watching," I murmur, acutely aware of the eyes following our movements.
"Let them." His thumb makes small circles against my dress. "I've waited two years for this dance."
The admission steals my breath. "Greyson…"
"Don't," he interrupts. "Not yet. Just… dance with me first."
So, I do. We move together as if we've done this a hundred times before, my body somehow knowing exactly how to follow his lead. His scent surrounds me, leather and cedar and something uniquely him that makes my head spin more than any alcohol could.
"You were right to leave," he says after a while, his voice low enough that only I can hear. "I want you to know that."
I look up at him, surprised. "What?"
"You needed to go. Experience something beyond this town, beyond the MC." His eyes hold mine, serious and sincere. "I respected that. Even when it killed me to watch you drive away."
My heart stutters. "Is that why you never…" I trail off, unsure how to finish that sentence.
"Never what? Called? Texted? Showed up at your door in LA?" His mouth quirks into a half smile that doesn't reach his eyes. "Yeah. That's why."
"I thought you weren't interested," I admit, the words escaping before I can stop them. "That I was just some kid with a crush."
Greyson's hand tightens on my waist, drawing me impossibly closer. "Olivia," my full name rolls off his tongue like a caress, "I've been interested since before it was appropriate to be interested."
The honesty in his voice makes me shiver. We're barely dancing now, just swaying slightly, our bodies pressed together in a way that's making it difficult to think straight.
"And now?" I ask, hardly recognizing my own voice.
His eyes darken. "Now you're back. And I'm not wasting any more time pretending I don't want you."
The song ends, but neither of us moves to break apart. We stand there, suspended in a moment that feels like the edge of something important, something life-changing.
"Livie!" Aunt Brittany's voice cuts through the tension. "Come meet my new assistant!"
Reality crashes back in. The party, the people, the expectations. I step back from Greyson reluctantly, already missing his warmth.
"I should…" I gesture vaguely toward my aunt.
"Go," he says, though his eyes tell a different story. "We'll finish this conversation later."
It sounds like both a promise and a warning. I nod, not trusting my voice, and turn to join Aunt Brittany across the room. Every step feels like I'm walking through molasses, my body rebelling against the distance I'm putting between us.
"Sorry to interrupt," Aunt Brittany whispers when I reach her, not looking sorry at all. "But your father was about to spontaneously combust."
I glance back to see Dad watching Greyson with narrowed eyes. When he catches me looking, his expression softens, but the warning is clear. Be careful.
The rest of the evening passes in a blur of conversations and catching up, though I'm hyperaware of Greyson's presence across the room.
He's pulled into club business, speaking with various members of both MCs, but his eyes find mine repeatedly throughout the night, each glance like a physical touch.
By midnight, the party is still going strong, but exhaustion from the emotional day is catching up with me. I find Mom in the kitchen, helping to refill platters of food.
"I think I'm going to head out," I tell her, stifling a yawn.
She studies my face with that uncanny maternal perception. "Want Dad to follow you home?"
"I'm just going back to the house," I remind her. "I can manage the five-minute drive."
"Mmm." She doesn't look convinced. "The stalker thing has him on edge, baby. All of us, really."
I sigh, wishing I'd never mentioned it. "I know. But I'm home now. Safe."
After promising to text when I arrive, I make my rounds saying good night, collecting hugs and welcome homes one last time. I'm almost to the door when a warm hand catches my elbow.
"Leaving so soon?" Greyson asks, his voice low.
I turn to face him, struck again by how handsome he is up close. "It's been a long day."
"Let me walk you to your car."
It's not a question, but I nod anyway. Outside, the night air is cool against my flushed skin. The parking lot is quieter than inside, though music and laughter still filter through the open doors.
We reach my car, but I make no move to unlock it, not ready for this night to end despite my fatigue. Greyson leans against the driver's side door, effectively blocking my escape, his eyes never leaving my face.
"We never finished our conversation."
"No, we didn't." I take a deep breath, gathering my courage. "What happens now, Greyson?"
"Now?" He reaches out, his fingers brushing a strand of hair behind my ear. The simple touch sends sparks across my skin. "Now, I take you to dinner tomorrow night. Somewhere outside this town where we can talk without fifty pairs of eyes watching our every move."
"Is that wise?" I ask, though everything in me is screaming yes. "Our clubs—"
"Are allies," he interrupts. "Have been for decades. Your dad might not love the idea of you with me, but he respects me." His hand cups my cheek. "Unless there's another reason you're hesitating?"
I lean into his touch, unable to help myself. "No other reason," I whisper. "Just… this feels big. Important."
"It is," he agrees, his thumb tracing my bottom lip. "You are."