I notice Weed watches her hands with interest, but then his gaze slides to her tits. This will get his face rearranged if either of her brothers notice. Fortunately for him, they’re both focused on Mackenzie.
When I move my gaze back to her, I realise I missed the last thing she signed, but it must have been insulting because Jem’s hand goes to his heart.
“You wound me, little sister.”
“Well, you are,”she signs. “Do you not remember what you did when I brought Tyler here?”
Jem smirks unpleasantly.
Bloody hell. What did they do to him?
Alistair would never survive a meeting with the Club. His father is a dentist, his mother a local councillor; he’s not built for conflict.
“I’m interested to meet him,” Sofia, the youngest Harlow, interjects, swirling the clear liquid in the bottom of her glass. “He must be special if you’ve been with him such a long time, Beth.”
I intend to tell Sofia just how special he is, but what comes out of my mouth is a garbled, “I need to pee.”
Adam laughs but Jem narrows his eyes. “If that man treats you badly, Little Bee, you let me know. I’ll rip his bollocks off and feed them to him!”
“Like I need you—or any bloke—to fight my battles for me.”
I push up out of my seat and wobble as my drunken head struggles to find its equilibrium.
Weed, who is sat on the left of me, reaches out and steadies me.
“Easy, babe.”
Weed smiles as his fingers stroke over my wrist. It feels nice. Too nice. Then again, Weed isn’t difficult to look at either. He has short hair, spiked slightly at the tips and unlike most of his Club brothers he’s clean-shaven.
The moment is broken when Dean reaches across the table, his fist lashing out. Weed releases me with an ‘oof’ and moves to protect his vulnerable flank from further attack.
“What the fuck was that for?”
Dean glares at him. “She’s Jack’s daughter, dickhead. Stop bloody flirting with her.”
Weed reclaims his seat, muttering something about chivalry being dead.
“Like you even know what chivalry is,” Adam accuses.
I don’t hear Weed’s response because my brain is still focused on what just happened. Dean’s reaction to a brother flirting with me concerns me. I dread to think what he’ll do if he discovers Logan slept with me. Repeatedly.
And it was nothing short of spectacular.
Since thinking about my past sex life with Logan is terrible for my sanity I stop. I need to escape the table and the endless questions about me and Alistair. I also really do need to pee.
“And on that note,” I gesture wildly with one hand, “I’m definitely going to the little girls’ room.”
My gait is unsteady as I cross the room. I am a crappy drunk. I’ve only had, what? Six drinks? Seven? Either way, I’m swaying in the breeze.
It takes all my concentration to navigate the bustling room and make it to the ladies’ room. Luckily, there is no queue, so I stumble into a stall and do my business.
These fucking guys…
I love my family, but they’re nosey bastards. I’m exhausted from all the questioning.
As I’m washing my hands at the sink, my mobile phone vibrates against my leg. I grab a couple of paper towels, dry my hands and, with some difficulty, get my phone free of my jeans pocket. I have to squint to focus on the words. This takes a lot longer than it should and my nose is practically touching the screen before the text becomes clear.
It’s a message from Alistair. Actually, it’s an apology wrapped up in an angry rant about me leaving to come here.