42. Chapter Forty-One
Chapter Forty-One
Reeve
It's been three days since Trix was attacked, and she's driving me insane with the urge to get back to work and help out with shit around the clubhouse.
Now that she's not in as much pain, I can no longer fight with her. I'm pretty sure she'd have ignored my protests anyway, so when she suggested working behind the bar for a couple of hours today, I didn't argue.
Little did I know, I'd still be sitting here at 5 p.m. watching her carry bottles of beer to the middle booth where the prospects are sitting.
She's still hobbling, but at least she is able to put pressure on her foot now without it hurting.
The grazes on her hands and her arms have scabbed over, and the cut on her head is still bandaged. Although she has some faded bruises still littering her skin, she's pretty much back to normal.
At least, that's what she's telling everyone.
But I can tell from the way she keeps rubbing at her face, smothering yawns, and slowly moving around that she's growing tired. I guzzle down the rest of my drink, then slide out of the booth and make my way to the bar.
"Want another drink, sweetie?"
"No, thanks, Honey. I've come to collect my girl and take her for a break," I tell her, eyes pinned to the back of Trix's head.
Trix swivels around, brows raised high.
"You're taking me for a break?"
I nod.
"Where are we going?"
Oh, she thought I meant I was taking her out.
Shit.
"Uh… I thought we could go to the diner," I suggest, hoping my tone doesn't give away how unsure I am.
Thankfully, her eyes light up, and she beams at me.
"Okay, but please can we go on the bike instead of in your shit box?"
My head jerks back, and I immediately turn around, eyes finding Milo in the corner booth.
He grins as he quickly climbs out of the booth and heads toward the double doors.
"I'll get you back for that!" I shout, chuckling when he flips me off as he walks out. Turning back to Trix, I shake my head. "Don't ever refer to my baby as a shit box again."
"Aww, did that hurt your feelings?" she teases, then rounds the bar and strokes her hands down my arms. "I'm sorry. I promise to make it up to you later… after you treat me to fries and a milkshake."
Cocking a brow, I wind my arm around her back, pulling her body flush with mine.
"Make it up to me how?"
Giggling, she knocks the end of my nose with hers. "Wouldn't you like to know."
Ducking out of my hold, she moves back to the bar and grabs her purse, then links her fingers through mine and tugs me toward the exit.
"So, are we classing this as our first date?" she asks as she pushes through the doors and drags me down the porch.
"You can if you want to, but in my mind, our first date was the night I had you for dessert on the pool table."
Her cheeks flush as dark as her hair, then she slaps my arm and glances around to make sure no one heard.
"I'd hardly call that a date." She scoffs and pulls at me to get me moving, but I root my feet to the floor by the back of my car.
"I'm glad you want to get on the back of my bike, Red, but I think it's best we go in the car until I'm sure you're properly healed up."
Sighing, she rolls her eyes, then walks to the passenger side of my Camaro.
"So boring," she grumbles as she waits for me to open the door.
"You can think of it as boring if you want to. I'm just looking out for my old lady and keeping her safe."
Pulling on the handle, I start to open the door, but she slams it shut, then twists around with wide eyes.
"What did you just call me?"
Rubbing my hand against the back of my neck, I roll my lips together and shrug.
Nerves swarm in my stomach, knotting together.
"My old lady."
Her lips stretch wide, displaying all her teeth as she squeals and wraps her arms around my neck.
Chuckling, I circle my hands around her waist.
"You happy about that?"
"Am I happy about you officially claiming me? Yes. Am I happy with the term you use? No. I think it's awful."
Laughing, I shake my head. "Well, unfortunately, you're going to have to get used to it, because everyone will now know that you, Trix Calloway, are my old lady."