Chapter Eleven
Chapter
Eleven
I Kinda Dig You
Jagger
Even though he wasn’t expecting her, Jag knew she was
there before he saw her.
This was because, across the three huge bays of the garage,
the vibe shifted from men at work direct to the heavy air of a slew of dudes
who were on the make.
Adding to that, Joker, who was bent over an engine with him,
said slow, “Well…shit.”
Jag looked to his right, at Joker, who was looking through
the opening at the side of the hood.
Jag then pulled out from under the hood, doing this in
unison with Joker, and saw Archie strolling toward him.
She was wearing a pair of camo short-shorts with a
denim-blue tube top and a white gauzy duster drifting off her shoulders that
fell to the backs of her knees. She had a tangle of delicate gold necklaces
trailing down her front and Adidas Superstars that had neon pink stripes on her
feet.
And as she went, not a man was working in that garage—and
they employed five mechanics, with two apprentices (and all of them were on
shift), not to mention the Chaos brothers who worked in the garage when the
spirit moved them (and that day, Shy and Dog were in the building).
Everyone was watching Archie walk to him, the duster
floating behind her, one of those smiles on her face that was just that hint
shy of smug (rather than her full-on smug one), which Jagger found a total
turn-on (then again, he found the full-on one the same).
And the eleven men in that garage did too.
“Hey, boyfriend,” she called when she was ten feet away.
At her words, he felt he’d grown a foot taller.
“Hey, baby,” he replied, moving to her.
He made it and she curled the fingers of both hands in his
tee and pulled him down, doing this only to make him touch his mouth to hers.
She pulled her head away but did not release his tee.
“I want lunch with my guy,” she declared.
He grinned at her and replied, “I’m at your service.”
She smiled up at him.
They heard a throat cleared.
Archie unfurled her fingers, so Jag moved to her side to
claim her, tossing an arm around her shoulders.
She caught him through the back beltloop of his jeans.
And as they positioned, they saw Joker, Shy and Dog standing
in a line.
Shy and Dog were assessing Archie.
Joker was staring at Jag.
“Well?” he prompted.
Swallowing his chuckle, Jag launched in. “Arch, these are my
brothers, Joker, Shy and Dog. Men, this is my girl, Archie Harmon.”
Her response was to him.
“You totally lied about them all being ugly. Like…totally.”
He heard chuckles, ignored them and replied, “Thanks for
outing me like that, baby.”
She smiled up at him and that one was full-on smug.
She then turned her attention back to his brothers.
Shy came forward first, hand raised. “Yo,
Archie.”
She took his hand, squeezed, and then got much the same from
Dog and Joke.
“I’m going to lunch,” Jagger announced when Joker stepped
back.
“I could do lunch,” Shy said.
Shit.
“Feelin’ peckish
myself,” Dog stated.
Great.
“Been jonesin’ for a po’boy at
Lincoln’s,” Joker put in.
Fantastic.
“Perfect,” Dog declared and looked right at Jag. “Meet you
two there.”
Before Jagger could say a word, the men sauntered away.
Jag and Archie shifted to watch them go.
“Guess we’re eating lunch with your boys,” Archie observed.
“We don’t have to meet them and can go wherever we want,”
Jagger told her.
“I love Lincoln’s jambalaya,” she replied, sharing in her
way that she not only didn’t mind, she wanted to hang with his brothers.
And he wanted her to get to know his brothers.
“Then Lincoln’s it is,” he said.
They started toward his bike and Arch did what Jag had
learned she liked to do. As they walked, she angled her body so she was tucked
under his arm, close to him and brushing against him as they went.
If she could have it, she was maximum contact all the time
and she somehow pulled that off without seeming clingy and needy.
He was one with this, because if she wasn’t maximum contact,
he would be.
These were his thoughts when his phone went with a text.
Not losing touch with Archie, he pulled it out, read the
text and quickly clicked the phone off, shoving it back in his rear jeans
pocket.
Archie couldn’t miss this, but she didn’t say anything.
The text was from his ma.
Am I going to see you soon?
It was the Thursday after his first weekend with Archie.
He’d been blowing his mother off.
Just like he’d done to Tack, canceling the meeting he’d set
with his brother and finding another space to be in when Tack looked like he
was coming into Jag’s.
He was telling himself this was about being with Archie,
something he was as much as he could be, when he wasn’t at the garage and she
at the store.
They’d torn the lid off, not only with sex—and they fucked
all the time—but with everything.
In the last three days, he’d spent a good bit of time out on
her fire escape, and they’d played a lot of pool at his pad.
He’s also eaten her for lunch in her office the day before.
And she’d met him at his place for a mid-afternoon blowjob
the day before that.
It was not lost on him this uber-togetherness was what Dutch
and Georgie did (in the beginning…and now).
It was also not lost on him this was what Hound and his ma
did (ditto with beginning and now).
Last, it wasn’t lost on him that this was what he’d heard
his dad and mom did.
He didn’t think about this either.
He thought about Archie. Getting to know Archie. Doing
things to Archie and letting her do things to him.
The rest, he’d think about when it was time to think about
it.
Or not at all.
“So cute. And bruh,
so cool of you,” Archie said to Dog as she handed Dog’s phone back to
him after looking at pictures of Dog’s kids, all three of whom were fostered,
before Dog and Sheila adopted them.
Arch looked between his girl and his brothers.
This lunch had been a surprise, and not the part of it where
Archie showed out of the blue and his brothers horned in, determined to get to
know her.
If he’d had to guess, he would have expected it would be
about his brothers giving him shit by telling Archie every embarrassing little
kid or clueless teenage boy-man anecdote they had.
And they had a lot of those in their arsenal.
It was not about that.
In fact, it didn’t even come close to that.
And something in that made Jag feel weird.
He couldn’t figure out if it was a good weird, or a bad
weird.
What he knew was, it was official.
He wasn’t that little kid growing up in Chaos anymore.
You did that shit with a prospect’s girl. You did that shit
to harass a boy in a way you’re teaching him to take it like a man.
You didn’t do it when he’s already a man and the woman he’s
with was the one you were bringing into the family fold.
“Would take away what they had to go through to get to us,”
Dog muttered to Archie, talking about his kids as he pushed his cell back into
his pocket. “Even if it meant they wouldn’t be with us. But that wasn’t the way
it happened. And now we got ’em.”
“And they have you,” Archie said softly.
Dog and Arch looked across each other at the round, high bar
table they were occupying and shared a moment.
She was again wedged up to him, her stool close, their hips
and thighs pressed together, and she was leaning against his side.
“Family is family, no matter how it came about,” Archie went
on, tossing a hand toward the table to indicate the men. “You boys know that
better than anybody.”
“Yeah,” Dog grunted.
Shy grinned at his bottle of beer.
Joker stared hard at Jag.
This was not Joke’s silent way of saying something about
Archie, something Jag might not like.
Joker was intense. Joker’s backstory was worse than most.
Joker didn’t have a family until he met Chaos and then made one of his own.
And Joker liked, even if Archie did have all of that, that
she understood what Chaos meant.
“How impossible are you all going to make the task of me
buying lunch for you guys?” Archie asked.
That got Joker’s attention.
His heavy brows shifted tight over eyes that shot to Archie
and he rumbled, “The fuck?”
Shy’s head had come up and he asked, “You crazy?”
And over all that, Dog said, “Next time,” which was a total
lie as there’d be a next lunch or dinner, but Dog wouldn’t let Archie pay for
it.
Jagger, sure.
Archie, never.
Archie turned to Jagger. “I see the patriarchy is strong
with this bunch.”
“Babe,” was all he said in reply.
She gave him a grin and reached out to nab her beer.
Lunch didn’t last much longer, and Jag rode back to work
with Archie tucked close, her arms around his middle, her chin on his shoulder.
And…
Yeah.
He again felt a foot taller, even sitting his bike.
Before she left, they made out in the forecourt next to her
car.
And she lowered the hammer she’d come there to lower and
didn’t get the chance to do it since his boys commandeered their time.
“Told Dad we finally hooked up, and he wants you over to
dinner. His choice, that dinner would take place yesterday. I renegotiated
that.”
Fuck.
Okay.
Right.
There was one thing about being “Arby’s Guy,” sensing she
needed someone to help her navigate grief because he’d lived his life with the
people he was closest to navigating grief.
It was another thing, that guy being a biker.
And yet another one, him belonging to an MC.
Chaos was not unknown in Denver, even before an
award-winning documentary was seen in theaters before it was made accessible on
Netflix.
What was unknown was how Archie’s dad would feel about that.
Archie gave him a squeeze. “He wants me to be happy.”
He looked down at her beautiful face.
Another squeeze. “And, boyfriend, you make me happy.”
He drew in a deep breath.
Let it out.
Then he did the only thing he could do after she said
something that dope.
He kissed her again.
When he lifted his head, she asked, “So, since this weekend
we’re riding, is next Tuesday good for you?”
Fuck.
“Sure,” he lied.
She smiled at him. There came another squeeze.