CHAPTER 9
GRAYCIE
Opal is on her belly on my bed, with her hands under her chin and her feet kicked up behind her.
The amusement written all over her face as I flit back and forth trying to figure out what I should wear on my ‘date that’s not a date’ is annoying.
I kind of want to smack the look off her face, but I know it’s coming from a place of love.
I think.
Well, I’m pretty sure.
I turn toward her and slam my hands down on my hips. “You are not being helpful at all,” my voice comes out far whinier than I want it to.
“I wasn’t aware you invited me over to be helpful,” she teases me.
With a roll of my eyes, I screw up my face. “Then why else would I ask you to be here?” I throw my hands out to my sides.
Most of my wardrobe, which isn’t much to begin with, is strewn about the room. And I still don’t know what to wear.
“Because of my sparkling personality.” She huffs and sticks out her tongue at me. “Duh.”
“No,” I bark out the words, “that’s not why at all.”
“You wanted my help?”
I run my fingers through my hair and am about a second away from canceling this whole thing, even though I desperately want to be on the back of Turner’s bike. Then I’m going to pull my hair out strand by strand.
“Of course I want your help.” I go back to my closet to find the same clothes that were just hanging there. Again.
I really was hoping that everything inside this black hole of a fashion mishap would disappear and something else would pop up for my dressing pleasure. But no.
“I should have gone shopping,” I bemoan. I really should have.
“My brother didn’t give you time to go shopping.” She rolls over and then stands up before heading toward me and my closet. “He must have figured out the same thing I did.”
“What’s that?” I eye her warily as she starts to move some of my clothes around.
“That if you’re given any lead time, you’ll have too long to figure out a way to cancel. The blitz is the only way to go,” she helpfully adds, her voice breezy.
My mouth turns down in a scowl. “So,” I say the words slowly, “what you’re saying is that Turner tricked me.”
Her eyebrows shoot up to her hairline and the look she gives me is incredulous as fuck. “Turner?” Her voice goes up an octave, “Turner?”
“Why are you freaking out right now?” I lean away from her because it looks like she’s either going to explode or lift off into orbit. I’m not really sure which one is more likely, but one is definitely on the horizon.
She grabs my shoulders with a little too much force and my eyes widen. Then she’s moving me back toward the bed with a single-minded focus which is freaking me out a little.
When we’re sitting, she gives my shoulders a squeeze and then my hands.
“My brother has been ‘Snake’ since he was 16. That is when he got a tattoo of a snake wrapping around his arm with the head on his shoulder looking like it’s about to strike,” she tells me, her face serious. “He doesn’t even like snakes.”
“When he was 16?” I hiss the question and Opal gives me an epic side eye.
“Yeah,” her voice takes on a wistful quality, “and then when Playboy was 16, Snake had him tattoo another one on the other shoulder. Not to match, but to juxtapose. They wanted to prove that Playboy was ready for the next step of his apprenticeship, regardless of his age.”
“Seems the club plays it fast and loose with age restrictions,” I’m not sure if I sound more scandalized or pissed. Probably both. Definitely both.
“Not where it counts,” her voice doesn’t leave any room for argument.
“I get you didn’t get a lot of time with everyone, but they would put themselves in front of danger and protect someone in need.
That’s just who those men are. I’ve seen them fight for each other, for love, for their way of life, for those who have been left behind, and for this town. ”
As much as I try to fight against it, her words sway me in a way I wasn’t expecting.
“You love the club,” I whisper the words like they’re a secret even though everything about her tells the story of how she feels.
‘I love aspects of the club,” she corrects gently. “There are things I don’t like too.”
My eyebrows pull together and gently prod, “Like what?”
“Club loyalty is supposed to supersede everything, including the woman you commit to, the woman you love. The brothers who want to will find a balance between their woman and the club. Not everyone can,” her words are filled with sadness and something that has me reaching for her hand and gently squeezing it.
“How is that sustainable?”
She shrugs one shoulder and gives me a small smile. I almost ask if she’s talking from experience, but before I can, she visibly shakes it off and sits up straighter.
“Here’s my point—there are two things that are simply true when it comes to the bikers in this club,” she tells me.
“Only certain people will be on the back of their bikes. Their Old Lady and family. That’s it.
” She looks at me, her eyes intense and pointed.
I swallow hard, already suspecting what else she’s going to say.
I get impatient and push, “And?”
“And,” she holds out the word and scrunches up her face as she looks at me, “only certain people will ever call them by their government name. Their Old Lady and family. That’s it.”
My hands go little numb as I let go of her hand. The way my head is spinning while going over her words and reconciling them with how Turner treats me has me swallowing hard. I’m not sure I understand.
Or maybe I understand perfectly.
“Old Lady,” I say the words like they mean anything to me, like really mean something to me.
Opal smiles softly. “It’s not pejorative.
It’s a sign of respect and a title which holds weight in the world of the club.
Old Ladies get respect and deference. And it means something to the brothers.
It’s a commitment that matters. A property cut is just as binding, if not more in some ways, than a marriage certificate recognized by the government. ”
“Are you saying they commit and that’s it? They never stray?”
I’ve heard the rumors around town about the club whores. Right now, I have Lola pegged as one because she certainly wasn’t wearing a property cut.
“As far as I’ve seen, it’s how the guys are here. I can’t speak to all the chapters, and I wouldn’t want to speculate about other clubs.”
“Right, okay,” I say the words slowly while my mind processes. “How is this helping me figure out what to wear?”
She smirks and shakes her head like I’m adorable. “It doesn’t matter what you wear,” she tells me. “Not even a little bit.”
“How can you say that?” I gasp out the question.
“The man has asked you to ride on the back of his bike. That would be enough to tell me everything I need to know, but then to add in him giving you his name?” She takes a deep breath and locks her eyes with mine.
“He’s all in. You’re it for him. He might be waiting and going slow because that’s what he believes you need but make no mistake—he is coming for you. ”
I blink at her a few times and take some deep breaths. I’m waiting for the panic to set in. The fear.
But it doesn’t happen.
I think of the way his gray eyes studied me before he looked me over as if his gaze was enough to devour me. Just thinking about it now makes me want things I shouldn’t want.
At least, I probably shouldn’t want them. Not when I don’t know when, or if, I’ll have to run again.
Sylvester’s not the kind of man to give up easily. And he has people at his disposal who can hunt me down.
I haven’t decided whether getting the club involved would be a good idea, or the worst idea I’ve ever had.
“You shouldn’t say things like that.” I grumble out of the side of my mouth.
It’s nearly impossible to ignore the part of me which desperately wants her words to be true. When he walked me home just a few days ago, I didn’t look over my shoulder with him at my side.
“I’m just speaking the truth,” her voice is coaxing. Then her face hardens, “I feel like I don’t have to explain the hierarchy of the officers since it’s pretty obvious.”
“President at the top,” I say, the answer easy to leap to.
“Exactly,” Opal agrees with a nod of her head. She scowls as she looks at the floor. “Then there are the club whores. They’re exactly what you think they are.”
“Hookers,” I deadpan.
Opal’s head snaps up and she gapes at me for a moment before she starts laughing. As much as I try to stop it, I can’t help but laugh along with her. By the time the laughter pitters out, I feel a lot lighter.
“Just remember that most club whores are interested in only one thing—earning a property patch. But the likelihood of it happening is very small.” She holds her hand up, her thumb and pointer finger close together to indicate just how small the chances are of it happening.
“No one wants to settle down with a woman who has been fucked by all the brothers.” Opal shivers with disgust and I find myself smiling slightly.
“Seems like a double standard,” I point out gently because it’s the family she’s spent her entire life around.
“Oh, it is,” she drawls. “Just because I understand it and know where the guys are coming from doesn’t mean I have to agree or accept it.”
Something in her words has me curious about aspects of her life which are really none of my business. I’m just nosey.
“My brother doesn’t believe women should just be silent sentinels while the men are the ones who really sit at the table,” she tells me.
“What’s going on with you?” I can’t help but ask. She’s been different the last few weeks, but she’s still shown up for everyone she cares about.
“Nothing,” she waves her hand dismissively like my question is one to be brushed away easily. It’s not going to work. When all I do is stare back at her, she lets out a long-suffering sigh. “Really, it’s nothing. I’m fine.”
I don’t believe her, but I also see the hard set of her jaw. She’s not budging on this one. And I have to respect it.
When she stands up, she grabs something out of my closet and puts the clothes on my lap. “This, the jeans you have on, and your boots. I don’t know where he’s taking you, but you should be prepared.”
“I don’t know either,” I tell her softly and wait, again, for the fear to come. But it doesn’t. Again.
“This way you’ll be prepared for whatever.” She points to the clothes, and I get up and move toward my bathroom.
When I walk back into the room, Opal is already nodding with a big grin on her face. I look down at what she chose for me, I do a double take. Clearly, I wasn’t paying attention to what I was putting on. I was just glad to not have to make the decision.
I’m wearing a soft t-shirt with a reader tarot card printed on it and a flannel left unbuttoned. It’s something I would pick out. Especially for riding on the back of his bike.
That’s the part I’m most nervous about.
As if she can read my mind, Opal gets up and grips my shoulders lightly.
“You’re going to be fine. My brother will not allow anything to happen to you.
You don’t have to believe it for it to still be true.
” She pauses and smiles knowingly. “Just think, this is the first night in a long line of nights involving him finding a way past your defenses.”
My mouth falls open, but no words come out. I don’t even know where to begin. She points to the look on my face and starts to giggle.
“It’s okay. Give him the chance to show you who he is,” her eyes implore me to cautiously leap.
I bite my lower lip and start to nod, but I barely do it once before there’s a knock on my door and I freeze in place. My body completely locks up. Even though I know I should go out there and answer the door, I can’t.
Opal grabs my wrist and tugs me along until we’re both standing in the doorway. Turner’s eyes find Opal the moment the door is open, and his face falls into a scowl tinged with confusion. Then his gray eyes lift and find me.
I don’t know what it is about looking into this man’s eyes, but it’s an experience. One which has me, dangerously, forgetting the past. That is something I can’t do.
Not when it would put others in danger.
“Hi Angel,” Turner drawls and steps closer to me.
The heat coming off him makes me want to curl up in his lap with a mug of steaming tea and a good book. No blanket needed when we’re talking about a human furnace.
“Hi, Turner,” I murmur his name while very aware of the way Opal is looking back and forth between us like she’s watching two ping pong masters duke it out on the big stage.
The smile on my man’s face when I call him by his name is nothing short of gorgeous. I’ve seen the man with all sorts of looks on his face in a short amount of time. And the smile he’s giving me right now is at the top of my list.
When I look him over again, I notice a helmet dangling from his elbow and something else in his hands. “I needed you to be safe,” he tells me by way of explanation.
Then he’s holding up a gorgeous leather jacket that looks brand new. I slip my arms inside the arm holes, turning while he slides the jacket into place. It fits me like it was made to be molded to my body.
“You look gorgeous,” Turner rumbles before kissing a spot behind my ear which has my knees going weak before I get myself under control.
Opal claps, her voice filled with laughter, “Well, I think that’s my cue. You two have fun tonight.” As she starts to walk away, she yells back over her shoulder, “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”
With her departure, we’re alone. And I have no idea what to do with my hands.