Chapter 17 #2
“Hope one is enough.” He nodded toward my rice cake and continued, “This Stallion’s callin’ it quits soon. You want to ride, you’ve got the reigns tonight, baby. Best hurry it up.”
He didn’t need to say more.
Not ten minutes later, I was mounting my Stallion.
After, when the light of the sun was starting to kiss the sky—my face clean and my nakedness covered by one of Twister’s tees—I fell asleep in what was fast becoming my new favorite spot, squeezed between a couch cushion and one hard, tatted man.
We slept until ten-thirty. Twister was out the door fifteen minutes later, but I took my time, enjoying a cup of coffee before I headed home.
I tried not to overthink my afternoon plans as I got ready for the day.
Everyone who would be at the clubhouse were people I knew or had served at the bar on more than one occasion.
My being there really wasn’t going to be a big deal.
Plus, given my shift that night, I had no plans of drinking.
I’d simply show up, grab some lunch, hang for a minute, and then head to Steel Mustang.
It wouldn’t make me one of them. Not if I didn’t let it.
It was a few minutes after noon when I pulled onto the compound.
I parked in the back of the bar’s lot then began to make my way toward the party that was already in full swing.
I was still a good way off when I smelled the meat they were grilling.
There were three smokers going outside the clubhouse.
All the hogs usually parked out front were moved back to accommodate picnic tables crowded with a few Stallions and family members.
Music was playing, kids were running about, the weather was perfect, and yet the moment I spotted Twister, I froze.
He was standing next to Maverick with a bottle of water in his hand.
Rodeo and Bull were there, too—Bull with a beer dangling from his fingertips.
Shepherd was sitting beside Jenna at the table in front of them.
The stroller she had parked next to her was empty, the babe it was meant to carry nestled in Shep’s arms. Tess was at the table, too, but I saw neither Mary-Kate nor Lydia-Jane with her, which meant Mustang was there somewhere.
Every face was familiar—but not nearly as hauntingly familiar as the feeling invading my chest at the sight of them.
I knew if I walked up to the clubhouse, everyone would guess why I was there. Not because of Shadow. Not because I saw the crowd from the bar’s parking lot and my curiosity beckoned. Not because I was welcome as someone who had earned a standing invitation she so rarely accepted.
No, upon my approach, they would speculate I was there because of Twister.
The thought made my stomach turn.
I closed my eyes and furrowed my brow in a desperate attempt to shove away the dread I didn’t want to assign to Benson . He wasn’t Sean. He hadn’t invited me to be a shiny trophy or a pretty puppet.
‘…and I want a woman in my lap, it’s gonna be your ass on my thigh.’
Try as I might to grasp hold of Benson’s words and keep old memories locked away, my mind was suddenly flooded with them. All those nights Sean dressed me up to show me off only to punish me when it worked and I caught more attention than he liked. I couldn’t relive that. I wouldn’t.
The Stallions’ clubhouse wasn’t Sean’s nightclub.
The people in attendance respected me. At least, they did now. I couldn’t guess how their perspective of me might change once Twister flaunted me around.
‘I got you, sparky. You’re safe.’
Benson wouldn’t hurt me. I knew this to be true, but it didn’t matter.
I couldn’t be his trophy. It went against every boundary I’d drawn for myself.
It wasn’t the sound of his boots that brought me out of my thoughts, but the way his body blocked the sun from shining on my face as he came to a stop in front of me.
I opened my eyes the same time Twister asked, “Sparky? What’s wrong?”
Rather than feel startled at his sudden presence, I openly admitted, “I can’t do this.”
“Do what?”
“Be here.”
He frowned at me, but it was more curious than angry. His tone of voice confirmed it when he said, “Baby, it’s a cookout. Far more casual than a weddin’ and a whole lot more fun if you ask me. I don’t understand the problem.”
He was being so cool and casual. For reasons I couldn’t fully grasp, it seemed to irk me more than sooth me.
“You and I might be a thing, but I won’t be paraded around like a prize. I’m not your arm candy or your girlfriend or whatever, okay?”
He didn’t respond right away but studied me for a long moment. Finally, he took a step toward me, curled a knuckle underneath my chin, and tilted my head back.
“Phoenix, you’re spicier than you are sweet and you’re no girl. You’re not my candy, baby, but you are the woman I crave. I don’t know what motherfucker played with your mind so much the thought of a party spooks you, but I’m not him.”
My breath caught, and I could hear the pounding of my pulse in my ears as my mind braced, suddenly on high alert. How could he know? How was it so obvious?
How is it this man can see right through me?
“I like you,” he continued, as if brushing aside all my thoughts. “I want you around. Seein’ as I’m hittin’ the road tomorrow, I was hopin’ to get my fill of you before I left.”
He paused once more, nodded behind him, then concluded, “I shouldn’t have to remind you those people are my family as much as they are yours.
You can pretend otherwise, but you know it’s true.
If you turn around and walk away, I won’t stop you.
But if you come with me and join the party, there sure as fuck won’t be a parade, just a bunch of brothers wondering how the hell I convinced you to give my ass a chance. ”
He spoke, and it was as if his words were like a blow torch, setting my fear and apprehension on fire. In the blink of an eye, they turned to ash, leaving behind only one simple question.
Stay or go?
I stared up at him—his thick beard, those brown eyes, his furrowed brow. He was handsome, but he never used it as a weapon. It wasn’t a mask he hid behind. What I saw was what I got.
He noticed you , whispered the voice in my head.
It was then when it struck me. Rather than shout across the distance which separated us, Benson saw me and sought me out. Rather than demand my presence, he reminded me of who he was and offered me a choice.
A choice, I realized, I already made. Not that afternoon or even in the wee hours of the morning. I made my choice days ago. Maybe even weeks ago.
Stay or go?
Shit.
Shit. Fuck.
I was doing this.
We were doing this.
“When they ask, should I say it was your big dick?” I muttered with a straight face.
He laughed then moved to wrap his arm around my shoulders, pulling me against his side. “You ain’t lyin’.” As he began to lead me toward the crowd, he asked, “You hungry?”
Thinking a plate full of food would offer a great distraction, I nodded and followed his lead.
Instinctively, I avoided eye contact with just about everyone.
When we approached the grill station, I noticed Wrangler and Dog were overseeing the cooking.
Alexia stood by her man, holding a platter he filled with chicken and corn on the cob.
When she glanced our way, she did a double take, then offered me a smile and a warm, “Hey.”
“Hi,” I replied politely.
Not surprisingly, our quick exchange drew Wrangler’s attention. He, too, did a double take. Rather than speak his greeting, he smirked and dipped his chin, watching us as we continued on our way.
The main doors to the clubhouse were propped open, the food station spread out across the bar on the right side of the room.
Winnie was inside, directing those with helping hands to finish set-up.
We hadn’t taken two steps into the building when I saw Lyla as she came from the opposite side of the main room, her hands holding a large box full of plastic silverware.
I jerked to a stop. Not two minutes ago, I was ready to turn on my heel and go. Now, even underneath Twister’s arm, the temptation was back. I didn’t like drama—a trait she and I did not share.
“Hey. Look at me,” demanded Twister, tightening his hold around my shoulders.
I obeyed automatically and found him peering down at me with a raised brow.
“Not your problem. It’s been handled. She knows if she so much as breathes your name, there’s not a brother in this state who will touch her.”
I let this news sink in then shifted my gaze across the room.
Lyla was looking right at us. For a second, I thought she might have appeared sad—but the expression was there and gone again in an instant, replaced by a mask of bitterness.
When she noticed me staring, she huffed out a breath, turned her back on us, and headed for the opposite side of the room.
I wasn’t quite sure what to make of the moment. The threat hanging over her head. The fact that it was made on my behalf. The reality of Ben’s promise playing out in front of me.
I didn’t have time to process it all before Winnie was headed our way.
“You came!” she greeted with a smile. “Thanks for being here. Grab a plate and come join us outside. I’m going to let everyone know there’s food ready.”
As she passed by us, she gave my arm an affectionate squeeze, and I freed a sigh I didn’t know I was holding.
Twister was right. Even under his arm, I wasn’t on parade.
His brothers were taking my presence in stride—and something told me that said as much about him as it did about me.
He had a title and a reputation which granted him power and respect, as did I.
People didn’t give me shit when I was behind the bar.
I suppose it made sense that wouldn’t change just because I was tucked against Twister’s side.
But more than that, in spite of all they didn’t know about me and all the ways I tried to keep them at arm’s length, I could no longer deny these people didn’t merely make my home a real place by simply existing. These people were home.
I belonged here.
It was a dangerous if not devastating reality.
Stay or go?, taunted the devil within.
I didn’t yet have to make the choice—but I feared when the day came, my decision would break me, either way.