Page 52 of Wife Number One

I’d studied so damn much though. I had to pass. There was no other option. Without a pass, any hope of getting into a medical job was gone.

The van twisted through the dirt road toward the large, ugly rectangular building me and a bunch of the club members called home.

I groaned at the sight of a full parking lot and people everywhere.

Not just club members.

Wives. Children. Ew.

“Is it seriously fucking family day?” I complained. “Again?”

Fang looked over at me warily. “It’s the third weekend of every month. It’s not like this should be a surprise to you.”

I screwed my nose up at the damn trampoline that had been pulled out of the storage shed Fang and War had made a few years back once their brats were all walking and talking. The two pussy-whipped fools had filled that shed with all sorts of useless kid crap. Swing sets. Jumping ropes. Barbies.

There was a fucking Barbie Dreamhouse in the middle of the Slayers MC. And one day a month, big burly guys like Aloha and Ratchet crawled around outside like they were ponies while four-year-olds giggled hysterically on their backs.

Our enemies would have a field day if they knew that.

Fang parked the van. “You going to join us?”

“Nope.”

He flinched slightly, like I’d managed to hurt his feelings. “Come on. You never come to family day. The twins always ask why Uncle Hawk doesn’t want to hang with them.”

“Did you tell them it’s because I’m not actually their uncle?”

Fang narrowed his eyes at me, but I wasn’t in the mood for his guilt trips. He wasn’t the prez. He didn’t get to make demands on my time. And War was smart enough not to give me a hard time about it.

I didn’t have a fucking family.

Why the hell would I go to an event literally called family day?

Fang had that “disappointed dad” expression on his face. Again. “Whatever. Don’t come. All the more chili for me.”

My stomach grumbled. I hadn’t even gotten to finish my dinner last night at the diner before I’d had to go save Chaos’s stupid ass, and it’s not like they’d served up a buffet breakfast at the police station. Chili sounded fucking amazing. “Never said I didn’t need to eat,” I relented.

Fang shook his head, rolling his eyes. “Thought it might go like that.”

We walked side by side to the doorway of the clubhouse, dodging ankle biters and Tonka trucks. Fang paused in the doorway and put a hand out to stop me.

“Listen, though. Something happened last night you should probably know about. Rebel’s sister—”

I didn’t even need to ask which one.

There was only one I recognized, and she was sitting right in the middle of my clubhouse, as uncomfortable and out of place as a nun in a whorehouse.

But, fuck, she was beautiful.

Long dark hair. Big brown eyes. Tits that strained at her top like it was several sizes too small to contain them.

It had been years since I’d last seen her.

Years since I’d felt that same jolt of lust just from one glimpse of her sweet curves.

My fingertips tingled like they had the first day she’d crashed into me in the woods, alive at just the touch of my skin against hers.

I stormed across the room and stopped right in front of her.

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