7. Chapter Six #2
Heat rushes over my skin, and I pin my bottom lip between my teeth. I drop my eyes to the floor in front of me, avoiding his gaze and wishing my hair was down so I could hide behind it.
Shuffling behind the bar, I place my bag in a space underneath it and twirl around. My eyes roam over the bottles along the back wall, trying to familiarize myself with where everything is.
For once, I'm glad I worked in a bar for a few months back when I was still in college.
"You know, most of us will just simply ask for a beer from the fridge under the bar."
Whirling around, I find Luxe sitting on a barstool, a hand underneath his chin and, what looks to be, a comforting smile on his face.
"It's only the older guys who'll ask you to actually pour them a drink. Or maybe one of the prospects if they're in the mood to be funny."
My brows furrow in confusion.
"What's a prospect?" I ask, resting my hands on the bar top.
He straightens in his seat, eyes alight with joy, and his body practically buzzing.
"You don't know anything about club life?"
I shake my head.
"Okay, let me explain some things for you!
" he says excitedly, spinning around on his stool and pointing at the two guys by the dartboard.
"Chad and Rowan, those two are prospects, which basically means they're the club's lackeys until they prove they're loyal enough to be initiated and get patched in. Then they'll be full-fledged members."
Spinning around to the booths on the other side of the room, he points to the one closest to us.
"The guy with the long, graying beard is Munch. He's a patched-in member, and he has been for almost half his life. The guy next to him with the buzzed hair is Dodger; he's also a member, but unlike Munch, he's hoping to move up the ranks and take over my role once I move up."
"And what is your role?"
"Oh, I'm the Secretary," he says, swinging around to face me again.
"I'm the guy who deals with paperwork, reports any issues the members have, and keeps track of what the prospects are doing.
Boring if you ask me, but I get to work alongside Mackie, who's the Treasurer.
He's not here yet, but you'll meet him eventually. "
"That's Honey's husband, right?"
He nods. "See, you're picking things up quick."
My cheeks heat, and I duck my head, embarrassed that his appraisal has me blushing.
"Anyway, the two guys in the middle booth are Cruz and Slate. They're our Road Captain and Tail Gunner."
Nodding, I glance at the two men huddled together, looking over something on a tablet.
"Okay, so, Road Captain is pretty self-explanatory, but what the hell is a Tail Gunner?"
Luxe chuckles. "He rides at the back of the pack whenever we go out. He's also our go-to man if we have any problems with our bikes."
Standing from his seat, he walks around the bar, crouches down in front of the large fridge stored underneath, and pulls out a bottle of water.
Sidling up next to me, he uncaps the water, greedily gulps it down, then motions over to the last booth in the corner—the one he was sitting in when I came downstairs.
"Those two grumpy-looking assholes over there are Reeve and Milo, although I'm assuming you already know that."
Flicking my gaze to the booth and the men in question, I nod.
"Yeah, kind of," I mutter, slightly distracted by the men in the booth. Thankfully, they're too busy talking to each other to realize I'm gawking at them.
"Milo's the Sergeant, he keeps everyone in check, and makes sure everyone's doing as they should.
" My eyes sweep over him, noting the same leather vest every guy in here seems to be wearing.
His short, brown hair is messy from running his hands through it while he talks, and the chunky rings littering his fingers glint beneath the lights above him.
"Reeve's role as Enforcer is similar—hence why they work closely—but he mostly ensures everyone's safety and deals with any conflicts or problems we have, inside and outside of the club."
Moving my attention to Liam's brother, my tongue sweeps over my lip as my eyes skate across his muscular arms, which are covered with dark, intricate tattoos.
Dragging my gaze away, my eyes travel over his thick neck, past his neatly trimmed beard and full, shapely lips, straight up the slope of his nose, all the way to the unruly wavy hair on his head.
His hair is much darker and slightly longer than the man's beside him, and although the curls are messy, they somehow seem perfectly styled.
I'd be lying if I said I didn't want to run my fingers through his hair and mess it up.
The thought alone creates a fiery pit inside my stomach and has the muscles in my thighs trembling.
The same prickling sensation I felt when I walked in here earlier spreads across my skin, and my gaze drops slightly, my eyes clashing with his.
He's staring right at me.
Luxe says something beside me, but I'm lost in a daze, trapped in the deep, dark depths of Reeve's intense stare.
My heart pounds inside my chest, loud enough I'm convinced Luxe can hear it, too.
Tearing my eyes away from him, I spin around, lean my back against the bar top, then roll my shoulders back in an attempt to relieve the sudden tension spreading through my body.
"That's a lot of information to try and remember." I sigh.
Luxe chuckles. "Yeah, but the longer you're here, the more you'll learn and understand."
"I thought there'd be more people in the club."
"We have a few more—there's War, the Vice President, then Garrett, who's another prospect, and also a couple more members, but they're not here, and honestly, one of them, you'll never even see."