Chapter 13
CHAPTER 13
CALLUM
A tlas pointed the neck of his beer bottle toward the newly built stage. “That shit’s gonna look like a million dollars when it’s covered and painted.”
Leaning against the bar, I looked around, taking in the dark-stained planks of wood stacked against the wall, ready to be laid, and all the boxes full of new lights. “It’s coming along nicely. This refurb’s costing a mint, but I think it’ll be worth it. The place needed freshening up, and the new lighting scheme should add to the sexy vibe I’m going for.”
“How’s the ale and cider coming along?” Kit Stone called over from a table where he sat with Bowie and Donovan.
“We won’t know until it’s ready,” I responded with a smirk. “Though knowing Maeve, they’ll be nothing short of perfect.”
“That good, huh?” he asked.
I shrugged nonchalantly, taking a swig from my beer bottle.
“Carbine’s looking forward to opening night,” Atlas announced, his eyes sliding innocently toward me. “He seems quite taken with our Toots. Says she’s a breath of fresh air compared to the other single girls in town.”
Something heavy slid through my stomach.
“Maybe Carbine needs a reminder that Maeve’s not single,” I suggested cuttingly. “I’d hate to see the old friendship between the O’Sheas and the Demons get all fucked up by Carbine’s inability to keep his fucking hands to himself. Ripping his arm off and beating him around the head with it isn’t exactly conducive to keeping the peace between us all.”
Donovan nodded toward me. “Excuse my big brother, gentlemen, he’s gone and lost his mind for the girl he never wanted.”
I cocked an eyebrow in warning. “Maeve’s my wife, and any move made toward her is a blatant and personal show of disrespect. Carbine shouldn’t fucking test me.”
Atlas sat forward, his signature shit-stirrer grin curving his mouth. “All the girls love a muso. Since his band’s made a splash, he’s been fighting ‘em off with a stick.” His lips twitched. “Your ex has been sniffing around him for the last couple’a weeks.”
“My ex?” I asked, my forehead knitting together.
Atlas waggled his eyebrows. “Saskia.”
“Not my ex,” I denied. “Not my anything. Tell your brother not to hold back on account of me.”
“He wouldn’t anyway,” Atlas confirmed with a chuckle. “He’s thinking of taking her up to Rock Springs at the weekend. Dischordium’s playing at the Kings of Anarchy’s new clubhouse and bar. We’ve told Carbine and his boys to keep their hands off the KOA women, at least until we’ve established a stronger relationship.”
“How’s it going with them?” Donovan inquired. “I was surprised you gave another one-percent club permission to set up in our backyard, especially after the shitshow with the Sinners.”
“They’re a different breed to the Burning Sinners,” Breaker explained. “The KOA is a big MC. They’ve got chapters all over the country, so nobody messes with ‘em. We’ve always been allies. Pop and Abe are good buds with their main charter prez, Big Daddy. I met Pagan, their new Wyoming president on deployment in Afghanistan.”
“Small world,” Donny muttered.
“Miniscule,” Break agreed. “He was EOD, too, though a different unit to mine. From what I recall, his platoon worked out of a Marine base in Cali, but our paths crossed a few times.” The corner of Break’s mouth hitched. “He’s a crazy bastard.”
“All EOD are crazy bastards,” Donovan interjected. “If they’re not blowing shit up, they’re in danger of getting their shit blown up. It ain’t for the faint-hearted.”
“Still doesn’t explain why you’re letting them set up shop in our backyard,” I grumbled.
“Since the Sinners disbanded, things have been sketchy,” Bowie admitted. “We’ve had a few of the smaller MCs and street gangs trying to move in. Let’s just say we’ve had to clear more scrags outta town than we’d like.”
“Fuck,” I muttered.
He nodded his agreement. “My sentiments exactly. Eventually, the officers decided that if we’ve gotta deal with the Devil, then better the Devil we know. The Kings have been looking for a foothold in Wyoming for a while, so Cash approached Big Daddy and offered a place. They’re taking over the dope and gun trade out of that little town just north of Rock Springs called Coal Creek on the condition they keep that shit outta the places it shouldn’t be, namely away from kids and innocents.”
Donny’s stare slid to me, and he raised an eyebrow in a silent response. “Can you trust them?”
Breaker nodded slowly. “They’ve always been honorable with us. More so than most other clubs who wear the diamond patch. Their club’s been around a lotta years, and they live by the old code, much like the Demons did back when we wore the diamond, but I guess time will tell.”
Bowie barked a laugh. “Get this, they’ve got a strip club and a stable of women. All on the payroll with vacation and sick days, plus goddamned insurance.”
“Hookers and club girls with health insurance.” Atlas shook his head. “I thought it was only our club that did that shit. Can you fuckin believe it?”
“Oldest profession in the world,” I pointed out. “I always thought it should be regulated so women can be safer.”
Atlas took another swig of beer, smacking his lips together. “We’re all of the same mind as you are. As long as there’s no coercion—which there’s not—and the women are healthy, lucid, and above all else, willing—which they are—we live and let live. Some of these ladies could have huge medical bills to pay or struggle to feed their kids and families. If they’re gonna charge for their time, they should be safe.”
“Amen to that,” Donny said, lifting his beer in a salute before taking a swig.
“A few of us are thinking of goin’ up there,” Atlas said casually. “You should come with.”
Donovan perked up. “For the party?”
“Nah,” Atlas said sarcastically. “For a sleepover and to braid some hair.”
My eyes cut directly to my brother. “Forget it.”
He threw his arms out to the sides. “What?”
I leaned toward him, my movements jerky. “You’ll be up in their women like a dog in fucking heat. You can’t keep your dick in your pants, and I’ll be damned if I have a one percenter MC as well as the fucking Irish Mafia breathing down our necks.”
“It’ll be good community relations,” Atlas pointed out. “They’ll be good people to get to know, especially if you do eventually get on the wrong side of the Irish Mafia. The KOAMC is probably the only organization in the world that any syndicate would think twice about going up against.”
“I’m not sucking up to an MC I don’t know for future protection,” I argued.
“You don’t need to,” Bowie told me. “Seeing as you’ve already got us at your back. Though, Atlas is right. It’s good to know the right people. You may have a disagreement with your New York family one day. What if they block your booze orders to make life difficult?”
Donny shot me a knowing look.
We both knew it was exactly the kind of thing Patrick would do to put the squeeze on us if the time ever came. Cutting off our suppliers would be the first step in taking us out. If the bar couldn’t trade, we couldn’t pay him. It was an easy lesson in ‘taking down a business one-o-one.’
“Me and Kitten are going,” Breaker told me. “She wants to give her card out and try and score some new clients.”
“I’m taking my Stitch, too,” Atlas confirmed. “She’s curious, and you know if Ned goes, Soph will be there with bells on.”
“I could ask Maeve, too.” I glanced at my brother. “You up for it if you promise to keep your dick in your pants?”
He shrugged. “I could take a chick, too. We could double date.”
“That’s cool,” I agreed. “As long as it’s somebody Maeve likes.”
He stood, pulling his cell from his pocket. “Better make some calls,” he muttered, walking out the back.
Bowie grinned at me. “You better warn Maeve what biker parties can get like. She may get a shock.”
“She probably read about it in one of her MC romances,” Atlas said wryly. “I read one,” he shook his head, “they were some dirty bastards.”
“You read a biker romance book?” I scoffed.
His eyes almost bugged out of his head. “Yeah. Those fuckers were runnin’ trains and all sorts’a shit. Made me blush.”
“Nothin’ we didn’t do before we all started gettin’ wifed up,” Breaker interjected.
Atlas sniffed. “Speak for yourself, dog’s dick.”
“Reformed dog’s dick,” Break corrected.
Atlas sniffed again. “We’ll go up together. You can follow us. Safety in numbers and all that.”
A feeling of unease pinged in my chest. “You think we’ll need it?”
“Nah,” he drawled, scraping an open palm across his beard. “It’s a given that allied MCs get the red carpet treatment. We’ll be fine. Nothing wrong with a show of strength, is all. We’ll also have the Dischordium boys at our backs, so I can’t imagine we’d have any issues. I reckon we’ll have a good night. Just make sure you tell Maeve not to leave our sides. Ol’ ladies should wear their property of jackets, but Maeve’s not a biker wife. The KOA boys will be aware civilians are in their clubhouse, so make sure she wears her wedding ring instead.”
My chest gave a curious twist. “Any fucker touches my wife, and I’ll beat their ass.”
Bowie and Breaker exchanged a look while Atlas covered his mouth with his hand, trying to hide his grin.
“What?” I demanded, taking in their pointed looks.
Bowie slapped his hands onto his knees and hauled himself to his feet. “Beer break’s over. Those walls won’t paint themselves, and the lighting will take a few hours to position and wire.”
“Thanks for the help, Bo,” I told him earnestly. “Would’ve taken me two weeks to do all this by myself.”
“Told ya, anything you need, just ask,” he replied, looking around the place. “It’s already looking much slicker than before. If these new drinks of yours take off, I reckon you’ll be okay.”
I studied the long, polished oak bar as old memories of me and my da started to play like a movie reel in my head. So much of my life was tied up in this building, not just financially but emotionally too. The spot under the window was where I—and later my brothers—did our homework every night while Ma helped Da get the bar ready for opening. The long table in the corner was where Mam insisted we eat as a family whenever Da was too busy to come home to see to his wife and boys. It was where my dad taught me life lessons, and where I later learned for myself that hard work had its own rewards.
The Shamrock was where I became a man.
If my bar was ever taken from me, it would be like losing a part of myself. It was where I belonged, the only place I’d ever felt comfortable and at home. The only place I could be who I was always meant to be.
Losing it wasn’t an option.
If I did, I’d lose myself.
Then, who would I be?
My muscles screamed in protest that evening as I trudged upstairs to my apartment.
It had been a productive day. The walls were repainted, the new flooring had been laid, and the lighting was in and wired up to the new security and control system Colt had designed and shipped over from Virginia. We had next week to finish off all the personal touches and take delivery of the tables, chairs, and couches. We’d already started promotions not just for the opening party but also for the new drinks, which had drummed up a lot of interest.
We’d decided to make our opening night ticket only. A small proportion were given to our friends like the Demons, Mack, and some local businesses; the others, we’d sell to the public.
This strategy had proven popular and created demand because we’d already sold out with still over a week to go before the bar’s reopening. Some people would be disappointed, but it also worked in our favor as I knew whoever missed out would be back the weekend after to see what all the fuss was about, along with the people who’d had a blast on opening night and wanted to come back to do it all over again.
As much as all the improvements to the Shamrock had inspired me, I was exhausted. Even walking up the stairs made me ache in places I never knew existed. I’d worked from early morning until well into the night for a week nonstop. Then, when I did eventually fall into bed, I found myself tossing and turning, unable to stop thinking about a certain little redhead who I couldn’t seem to eradicate from my mind.
Maeve was always there in every thought and conversation, even when she wasn’t in the room. I’d find myself making decisions based on what I thought she’d want, even when it came down to décor and furnishings for the bar. Shades of green went into the place because she suggested we tie it all into the branding of the new drinks, even though, in the past, I’d always thought it too obvious. Now, I was caught up in her enthusiasm and excitement about the relaunch and the new additions to the drinks menu.
Everything about my wife was infectious. Her smile, her laughter, her wicked sense of humor, and her quiet intelligence. I’d never really cared about anybody before except for my family. Now, I cared too much, not only about her but also what she thought about me. In fact, it was fucking unnerving how much I cared, especially as I was usually a no-fucks-given kinda guy. But there was just something about Maeve. I couldn’t put my finger on what it was, and it was driving me goddamned loopy.
Whenever she left the room, a hollow feeling appeared in my gut, and I’d find myself jonesing for her until the moment I saw her again. In the apartment at night, I’d circle, waiting for an invitation to sit and watch a documentary. I even bought a couple of thrillers so I could crack one open when she was reading and use it as an excuse to do the same, just to feel the warmth of being in her presence.
Poking my keys into the lock of my apartment door, I pushed it open, half expecting to smell the aroma of cooking or hear the strains of music coming from her room, but the place was silent.
Maeve must’ve still been downstairs in the distillery.
I made the decision to grab a quick shower and order pizza for dinner from Giovanni’s. It had been another long, hard day. Neither one of us would feel like cooking—not that I had a clue how to, anyway. My ma still dropped food off for me on the regular.
Dropping my keys on the hall table, I made straight for the bathroom, pulling my tee from the waistband of my jeans as I went. Mind still on the pizza, I pushed the door open, only to be met with a loud, piercing squeal.
My cock kicked like a mule as my stare immediately caught on the most stunning pair of breasts I’d ever seen. They were big, round, firm, high, and tipped with pink, rosy nipples that pointed north.
My mouth began to water.
Jesus fucking Christ.
Maeve stared up at me suspended in time, open-mouthed, wearing only a pair of white cotton panties and a shocked expression.
I couldn’t have stopped staring at her if I wanted to. Stunned, I had to hold back from groaning out loud at the sight of her smooth, porcelain skin covered in a smattering of cute freckles and toned arms, one of which was in the process of sliding across her firm but slightly rounded belly and dipped waist.
“Oh my God,” Maeve cried, scrambling to grab her robe.
“Oh my God,” I rumbled, wondering how my cock hadn’t punched a hole through the crotch of my jeans at the sight of my almost-naked wife, seeing as, by that point, it resembled a steel fucking pipe. I hadn’t fucked anyone in months, and now walking in and seeing Maeve’s hot little body had planted some dirty little fantasies inside my head that I had no business thinking about right now.
I covered my eyes with my hands to spare her obvious embarrassment, cursing under my breath as the memory of my wife’s beautiful, hot, sexy breasts popped into my brain.
My cock hardened to a block of concrete.
“I’m sorry,” she cried out. “I thought I locked the door.”
“It’s okay,” I assured her. “Nothin’ I haven’t seen a hundred times before.”
There was a brief pause, then Maeve murmured, “Oh.”
Immediately, I could’ve kicked myself. I wasn’t exactly handling this well. It must’ve been the shock of seeing her that way. She always hid herself away under baggy jeans and sweaters. Even when I’d seen her gussied up, her clothes hadn’t fit her well and usually drew the eye to imperfections that I now realized didn’t even exist.
How the fuck did she do that?
Her body was fucking banging.
“It’s okay,” she announced. “I’m decent now.”
Dropping my hand from my eyes, I blinked at the bright lights of the bathroom, closely studying Maeve while she knotted the belt of her old, ratty robe with flaming red cheeks.
It was like I was seeing her for the first time.
The skin I thought too pale before now reminded me of a doll’s, only made more interesting by the light brown freckles I’d caught myself fantasizing about by kissing every last one. Maeve wasn’t wearing her glasses, but whenever she did, I found them incredibly fucking cute, especially when she’d peer up at me through them, her cosmic-blue eyes softening at something I’d said.
Her hair had always seemed out of control with her crazy curls that now looked glossy and defined in the light of the room... wait—that wasn’t right.
“Did you do something to your hair?” I demanded.
“Oh, yeah.” A hand darted up to nervously touch a curl, and she smiled wryly. “Tristan put a keratin treatment on it earlier. He said it would make it easier to manage.”
“It looks fantastic,” I murmured, reaching out to touch its softness. “I loved your hair before, but it looks shinier now, like burning copper.”
Her cheeks turned pink, and her eyes locked with mine while she whispered, “Thanks.”
“I’m sorry I walked in on you like that,” I muttered, mesmerized as I watched my thumb sweep gently across her cheek. “Usually, I hear you.”
Red stained her face, and her eyes lowered. “I’m the one who’s sorry. You must’ve got a shock walking in and seeing me like that. What a sight. Your poor eyes?—”
“Don’t do that,” I ordered gently. “Stop putting yourself down.”
“But I’m fat,” she protested.
“You’re fucking beautiful,” I bit out, my tone more forceful than I meant it to be. It just annoyed me when Mae talked shit about herself. She was nowhere near fat, and even if she was, so what? Big was beautiful, too. “Why do you always say you’re fat?”
Her eyes lowered. “Compared to Shannon and Erin?—”
I barked a laugh, cutting her off. “Babe, that doesn’t make you big; it makes them emaciated. You’ve got a normal woman’s body with curves, exactly the way it should be. Don’t tell me you wanna be thin like those models in the magazines. That kinda beauty’s unattainable, and it’s not even real. They’re airbrushed to fuck, and their pictures are manipulated to look that way. It’s okay for the beauty industry, I get they’ve gotta sell their shit, but real women don’t look like that. They look like you, thank God.”
“But I’ve got rolls when I sit down,” she argued.
“So do I,” I bandied back. “And I bet Aislynn, Kennedy, Sophie, Layla, and Cara do too. Fat my arse,” I grumbled, my eyes drifting over her hair again. “I really like what Tristan did, and I get you wanna look nice, but don’t change yourself too much. You’re perfect as you are.”
Her sharp intake of breath was audible, and I watched her face soften as she gazed up at me adoringly with the same eyes that had been haunting my dreams for the past week. “Really?”
“Yeah, really.” I bent my neck and moved my mouth to the shell of her ear, making sure she felt my breath there. “I’ll take a shower, then order us pizza for dinner.”
Her shiver ran from the top of her head to the bottom of her toes, and then she sighed the word, “Okay.”
“You alright?” I asked her softly.
She swayed forward slightly. “Yeah.”
I smiled to myself. “Want me to help you with your PJs, Mae? You seem kinda distracted.”
Her body jerked as if she was waking from a dream. “Oh, right. I’m fine.” She took a step back and jerked her thumb toward the door. “I’ll just go and—” Maeve’s teeth sunk into her bottom lip, and with one last glance at my face, she turned and fled through the door.
My back hit the wall, and I banged my skull against it gently.
It was like I’d awakened from a dream I’d been stuck in for weeks, and suddenly, I was seeing life with so much clarity it was making my damned eyes hurt.
Somehow, against all odds, I’d developed feelings for my wife.
God only knew how and when it happened. It was a gradual thing that crept up without me noticing. I couldn’t pinpoint any one thing that made me suddenly give a shit. Maybe it was just Maeve, her charm, wit, and intelligence, or just that special way she had about her.
I had a challenge ahead. I needed to get Maeve to the same place as I was, especially as I’d already put my own ass in the friend zone. I also had to somehow make her forget I’d almost fucked her stepsister and most of the other women who frequented the bar, the same women she was going to run into on a daily basis like Saskia.
I looked down at the tent in my jeans and sighed.
First things first, I had to get into the shower and tug one out, or else I’d have to contend with a raging hard-on all night. Bright side, at least now I had the memory of my wife’s beautiful tits, so it wouldn’t take long. I couldn’t hold my grin back because the mere thought of watching my thick cum dripping off her rosy little nipples made a tingle appear in the small of my back.
Switching on the shower, I waited for the water to heat up before stripping down and stepping inside the cubicle.
For the first time since Da died, I felt as if the huge weight on my shoulders had been lifted. It was crazy how my subconscious had been weighing me down. Maybe this thing I felt for Maeve was just what I needed to help me heal. God knew Da loved her as much as everyone else seemed to. One thing was for certain: having the challenge of seducing my hot little wife was a surefire way of forgetting the grief of losing Da, even if it was fleetingly.
With a sigh, I squeezed some shower gel into my palm before grabbing my steel-hard cock and stroking up and down. Immediately, an image of Maeve’s incredible breasts flashed behind my eyes, and I let out a low growl while a wolfish smile spread across my face,
Seducing my sexy little wifey was gonna be fun.