CHAPTER 6 #2
“After they announce the winners, some of the kids will go back to the tent, but most people don’t come by right away,” she informs me like I’m not at this event every year, like I haven’t paid attention.
But she has no idea that I’ve kept an eye on her.
Her cheeks are pink and the Edison bulbs hanging above us make her look soft and sweet. And like mine.
“Jessi showed me the final numbers,” her lips tip up in a smile filled with pride, “as long as everyone follows through, we’ll more than hit our goal. I can find something extra to do with the kids, like a show or something.”
I reach up and brush a few strands of her blonde hair away from her face. It’s as soft as I knew it would be. I want to find out if her lips are too.
“That’s great, Teach,” my voice is like gravel, filled with barely contained desire.
She looks away from me just as they start announcing the winners. The crowd cheers when Stan is announced as the winner for this year’s chili cook-off. I look across the open area and find Whiskey with a scowl on his face.
On Wasted Ridge, the bar and grill Whiskey runs for the club, has been entering the cook-off for a few years now. It always comes down to us and Stan, and it’s been a toss up on who wins. But now he’s won two years in a row.
Vincent, one of our cooks who has been working with Whiskey to tweak the recipe this year, looks disappointed, but there’s something in his eyes that makes me take notice. Determination. He might make a good prospect; Whiskey has only good things to say about the guy.
After clapping through the announcements, the show is on.
Playboy struts onto the stage and the brothers who are scattered around cheer for him.
I can’t help but chuckle under my breath as he eats it up.
Movement has me glancing near the edge of the stage where Lara huffs while rolling her eyes and crossing her arms across her chest.
Playboy must clock it too because he turns her way and winks. I’m not sure how he manages it, but he makes the action look condescending as fuck. Strange.
The whole contest is over in a matter of minutes from everyone taking a seat to Playboy winning. As the contestants were shoveling cake in their mouths, the MC was trying to call it like a sports game and got more than a few laughs because of it.
Playboy ends up taking down one six-inch round layer of frosted goodness in 1:20. My jaw hits the ground because his time is twenty seconds faster than last year.
Has this man been practicing eating cake in the middle of the night or something? I’m not even sure what to think. He raises his arms in victory, and I can’t help but clap and chuckle. Ezra is grinning from ear to ear and clapping while hooting along with the rest of the crowd.
When I scan the area again, I still don’t see the guy I’m looking for. It’s frustrating as hell. My gut is telling me to find out what’s going on and not just for Ezra’s sake.
“How about a round of applause for Lara Champman, owner of Bunz Out, for sponsoring tonight’s event,” the MC’s voice fills the area, and everyone cheers. He waves her onto the stage, and she hesitantly steps out and gives a little wave. Her nerves are clear to see.
“That’s my mama,” a little girl shouts and claps with everything she’s got. Lara’s face softens and she grins as she looks at her daughter, Vanessa.
“Come on, get together for a picture with the winner,” the MC encourages and Lara stiffens.
So does Ezra at my side. I glance around us again before looking down at her to see her focused on the way Playboy is making a big show of wrapping an arm around Lara’s shoulders. He whispers something in her ear and the smile on her face turns brittle as her fingers curl into fists at her side.
I narrow my eyes at the scene in front of me. I’ve never seen my brother get that kind of reaction from a woman before. What the fuck is going on?
When Lara gives another wave after shrugging off Playboy’s arm, her movements are jerky, then she slips off the stage and heads right to her daughter. Vanessa hugs her mom and talks a mile a minute as they walk away; Lara doesn’t look back.
Before I can think about it, a kid walks up to us, “Ms. Lyons, are you heading back to the tent?”
He looks my way, but he doesn’t say anything. He’s wary, but I have no doubt he’d stand right here with his teacher if she were to give him any indication that she’s uncomfortable.
“Yeah, Josiah,” her voice is bright, “I’m ready to head back. Ryker here is going to watch our back since we’re taking payments.”
I have to say, I’m more than a little impressed with how quickly she came up with that excuse. I suppose it’s not out of the realm of possibilities either, considering how many things the club businesses donated to the cause.
Josiah walks back to the tent with us. My hand on Ezra’s lower back makes her breathing deepen. She looks up at me and her eyes darken. When her gaze darts over my chest, I desperately want to throw her over my shoulder and carry her away from here.
I have no idea how I stop myself from giving in to the temptation.
Sidewinder and Playboy update me, but it’s almost useless since no one has seen Bobby and they haven’t found the carnie.
I think I catch a glimpse of him at some point, but when he turned around again, it wasn’t him.
But he knows all the dark corners around this place better than I do, which means he can hide more effectively.
For now.
Not being on my own turf is starting to eat at me. I want to take my woman to the clubhouse. She’ll be safe there.
I almost shudder at the thought of taking her to my home on the club’s land. The good thing about the clubhouse is that I’ll have my brothers there to help me keep her safe.
Hopefully, no one has a problem with her being the sheriff’s daughter. I’d hate to have to shoot one of my brothers.
Ezra’s eyes are tired after the last item is picked up and she turns toward me. The kids are quick to fold up the tables and get them carried away. When everything is done, they high-five Ezra or fist bump her.
“Good job, everyone,” she gushes. “I’m proud of how hard you worked to make sure we all get to go to Nashville.”
They walk away while laughing and chatting about the fireworks. I close the distance between us, pressing my front to her back. My lips graze her earlobe as her citrus and clove scent wraps around me.
“I’m sorry, but you’ll be missing the fireworks this year,” I rasp the words, my voice low and coaxing.
This’ll be easier if she doesn’t fight me every step of the way.
She sighs, her voice filled with disappointment, “That’s too bad. They’re my favorite part.”
“You’ll see them next year,” I promise, meaning every single word. My nose slides along the shell of her ear and she shudders in my arms. “I don’t know,” I tease her, “Playboy taking down that cake might be the highlight this year.”
“It was pretty impressive,” she admits.
When she turns around and looks up at me, her blue eyes big and round, she doesn’t step away. Our bodies are almost plastered to each other. I know the moment she feels just how hard I am for her; her eyes go half-lidded and turn glassy with lust.
“I take it we’re leaving?” The question falls from her lips, husky and sultry in a way she probably doesn’t even realize is hot as fuck.
I nod slowly. “It’s time. I need to get you safe.”
“Where are we going?” She asks the question even though I’m pretty sure she already knows the answer.
“The clubhouse,” I tell her, bracing myself for her reaction while crossing my arms across my chest.
She eyes my arms for a moment and inhales a long, deep breath. When her eyes find mine, the words rush out of her, “Am I staying at the clubhouse or is this just a visit? I’m really tired,” she explains.
I can’t help but grin down at her. She’s fucking adorable.
“You’re staying,” I tell her seriously, my jaw clenching at the idea of her being out of my sight. Yeah, that shit isn’t happening anytime soon. “I’ll follow you over there,” there’s a command in my words, but Ezra doesn’t seem bothered by it.
“You’re lucky my dad taught me to always be prepared,” her words are full of sass, “because I have a bag with everything I need in my trunk.”
I push away the way my gut clenches at the mention of her dad. I fucking hate being reminded of that man; he hates me.
But he’s a reality I’m just going to have to deal with.
“Oh, Teach,” my voice drops to a purr, “I’m very aware of how lucky I am.”
I need to get her out of here and you better fucking believe that I’m going to use our proximity to my advantage. She agreed to do this my way after all.