5. Emma
Chapter five
Emma
Past…
We’re lying on a blanket in the sand on the bank of the Cimarron River.
The compound backs up to the river, so the brothers cleared a road down to the bank for better access.
Along the road are trails the guys built for four-wheelers and dirt bikes.
I also know some of the brothers hunt out here in the fall.
It’s quiet. The only noise is the cicadas screaming in the air and the occasional owl.
It’s peaceful as I look up into the dark night, gazing at the stars.
With no light fog polluting the air, the stars seem to surround us.
It’s beautiful here on this compound. It feels like a little slice of untamed paradise.
I’ve been here for almost two weeks. I’ve made some good friends in the short time I’ve been here, especially Harley and Scarlett. Those girls are a riot.
I met Gator a few days after I arrived, when he returned from a club run. The morning sun streamed through the diner’s wide windows, painting the faded checkered tile with patches of gold. Harley, Scarlett, and I crammed into a booth near the corner.
Our plates were piled high with pancakes and scrambled eggs, and the girls were already deep in their usual banter, laughing about something from the night before.
Harley, always animated, gestured wildly with her fork, nearly flinging syrup across the table.
Scarlett rolled her eyes and nudged me, a conspiratorial grin on her face.
I tried to focus on the conversation, but everything felt new and unfamiliar.
The Crescent diner was bustling with locals, the same faces every morning.
I was the newcomer, trying to fit in with girls who’d already made the place their own.
Harley leaned in, lowering her voice. “So, Emma, what’s the verdict?
Crescent’s not as bad as you thought, huh? ”
Before I could answer, a low rumble vibrated through the floor, rattling the glass in the windows.
Scarlett’s eyes flicked to the door; Harley just grinned, as if they had a plan up their sleeves I wasn’t privy to.
“The boys are back,” she whispered, excitement sparking in her voice.
I caught myself glancing toward the entrance, my pulse quickening.
The girls exchanged a look, then turned back to me, but I couldn’t help watching as the heavy glass doors swung open.
Gator strode in, flanked by Rock and Buzzard, the three of them filling the room with energy and a dangerous charm that turned every head.
It felt as if everyone had been waiting for them.
Even the waitress paused, eyes twinkling.
Harley smirked, nudging me under the table.
“That’s Gator, my brother. Big trouble and an even bigger heart. ”
They all looked at me, daring me to react.
I knew which guy was her brother instantly, without her having to point him out.
He looks just like Harley and their father, Stud.
What do they put in the water around here to produce so many beautiful men?
Harley has been talking up her brother to me for days, insisting we would be the perfect match.
I felt like I knew him before I met him because of how everyone talked about him, but nothing prepared me for the real thing.
Gator dropped into the booth next to me, his presence overwhelming, effectively boxing me in against the window. His cologne was woodsy and masculine, with a slight tang of motor oil and cigarette smoke. My pussy immediately sat up and offered herself as tribute to the man being presented to her.
He draped his massive arm casually around my shoulders, as if he’d done it a thousand times before, then turned to Harley.
“Who’s your new friend?” he drawled with a smile I am sure had been dropping panties since puberty.
His wavy dark hair and gray eyes stand in stark contrast to the light coming in through the window, which magnifies his light eyes, surrounded by thick black lashes.
They draw you in and put you at ease, but I also see the warning label etched beneath the beautifully wrapped surface.
Harley sputtered, nearly spitting her coffee across the table, laughing.
“That’s Beaver’s daughter.” Gator’s eyes shot up in surprise, flickering with recognition.
Club princess. Off-limits. But the look in the future Club President’s eyes made it clear he wasn’t going to let that stop him.
I saw the determination. He assessed me with a quiet intensity, as if he’d already decided I was worth the risk.
The waitress at the counter called, “Gator!” He stood, brushing his fingertips across my shoulder as he left, sending an involuntary shiver through me.
He retrieved his to-go order, glanced back at me, a promise on his face.
“I’ll see you around.” He winked, then swaggered out with Rock and Buzzard trailing behind, the guys ribbing him about having the hots for Beaver’s daughter.
The girls burst into giggles as soon as he was out the door, Harley elbowing me.
“He’s got it bad, Emma, and I think you might, too.
” My cheeks burned, and I rolled my eyes, but deep down, I knew it was true.
Any woman with two eyes would have rolled over belly-up for that man, but I knew I wasn’t going to play hard to get.
The man had heartbreak written across his face, with a bright, flashing neon sign above him that screamed caution.
The kind words Harley and Scarlett whispered, trying to play matchmaker, made me second-guess my first impression of him.
When I saw him walk through that glass door, I just knew he was going to mean something deep to me, and it instantly scared me.
The chemistry was so thick it felt like a slap in the face.
So I shoved that feeling down and let the girls gush over him, silently building a wall around my heart, hoping it would be enough to keep him and the trouble he brought at bay.
I would be lying if I said I held strong.
For the next two days, Gator made it his personal mission to break down any walls I tried to build between us.
No matter where I went, he seemed to have a sixth sense, always appearing just when I thought I’d slipped away.
If I was crossing the lot to the clubhouse, he’d suddenly be by my side, grinning as if he’d been waiting for me all along.
If I ducked into the kitchen to help Beth, he’d lean against the doorway, arms crossed, watching me with that lazy, amused smile that made my chest flutter and my hands fumble with the dish towel.
Every time he caught me alone, he’d ask for my number, refusing to take no for an answer.
He’d offer his phone with those big, calloused hands, and when I shook my head, he'd roll his eyes and try again the next time, as if it were a game he was determined to win. Gator always found an excuse to touch me. Sometimes he’d rest a possessive hand at the base of my back, claiming he just needed to whisper in my ear because the clubhouse was packed and too loud.
His breath would brush my neck, sending shivers down my spine, and I’d feel dangerously exposed.
Other times, when a strand of my hair fell loose, he'd reach out to tuck it gently behind my ear, his fingers lingering just a second too long, his gaze never wavering from mine.
I kept up the runaround, brushing off every cheesy one-liner he tossed my way, replying with quick retorts or an exaggerated eye roll, pretending I was immune to the heat simmering between us.
But God, my heart would pound so hard I was sure he could hear it.
On the third day, though, he stepped up his game.
I had just grabbed a couple of sodas from the fridge in the back hallway when I heard heavy footsteps behind me.
I turned, and there he was, filling the narrow space.
Before I could say anything, he closed the distance, his massive arms braced on either side of me, caging me against the wall.
My pulse stuttered. For a moment, the world shrank to just the two of us, the faded paint of the wall at my back, the musky scent of leather and his addictive cologne, and cigarettes rolling off him, all of it burning in his gray eyes.
He wasn’t smiling, not the easy, teasing grin he wore around everyone else.
Instead, something raw and hungry flickered in his expression, the wolf finally tired of circling, ready to pounce.
He leaned in, his voice low and rough, barely above a whisper.
“Emma, I’m done playing. Just one shot. That’s all I’m asking.
You give me a chance, and if you still think I’m a jackass after, I’ll walk away and never bother you again.
Hell, I’ll get down on my knees and beg if that’s what it takes.
” His eyes searched mine, so earnest that all the air seemed to leave my lungs.
“One date,” he murmured, his forehead resting against mine. “Just one.”
I could feel the heat radiating from his body, my heart hammering so loudly it echoed in my ears.
His arms were braced around me, but it wasn’t threatening.
Despite his size, I never felt scared, just…
trapped in a way that made me feel seen and wanted.
His deep southern drawl rasped as he pleaded, his cocky bravado gone, replaced by something real and desperate.
I let out a shaky laugh, trying to ease the tension, but he didn’t pull back.
He watched me, waiting, as if he’d silently vowed to stay there all night until I gave him an answer.
As hot as it would be to watch a man of his caliber beg on his knees, I realized I wanted to say yes just as badly as he wanted me to.
But I also knew what saying yes to Gator meant, including the drama, the gossip, the risk of breaking the club’s trust, and the risk of driving a wedge between our dads or other club members.