Page 2 of The Oath We Take

I raise my hand and watch as Ember brings Lemmy around and trots along the edge of the fence. Once there, she dismounts in a way that gives me a view of that perfect peach of an ass clad in tight denim. Even in her well-worn riding boots and a faded T-shirt, she’s a fucking picture.

She’s self-conscious about her curves, but I love them, her thick thighs and generous tits that would spill out of any man’s hands.

And she’s utterly off-limits. The president of the Iron Outlaws Colorado chapter is her father, Nolan “Butcher” Deeks. A man with little patience and an iron-clad promise that he’ll chop the hands off any biker who touches his twenty-two-year-old daughter.

She ties off Lemmy to the gate post, then walks towards me, the late-afternoon sunshine behind her, casting a halo through her hair. The number of times I’ve wished I could run my fingers through those silky strands to see if they’re as soft as I imagine.

“Hudson Addams,” she says in that throaty rasp of hers that’s guaranteed to make my cock pay attention. “I should have known I’d find you out in the pasture on a day like today.”

I force myself to not stare into those wide eyes of hers that split the difference between gray and blue.

“And one day, you’ll remember it’s Atom now,” I say, trying to create distance with my words as she closes the gap between us. In the past five years, my whole identity has shifted. I went from being a fourth-generation rancher in line for custodianship to being a prospect biker. Even though my grandpa and dad were bikers before me, it didn’t make the path any easier. You become an Outlaw based on merit. And I’m the first enforcer in our family. In the club, I stand for myself. “You just get home?”

“First, I’ve known you as Hudson a lot longer than I’ve known you as Atom. Second, I’m not a biker, so I don’t need to call you by your road name. And third, yeah. It was nice to go to the Hamptons for a little while with Chloe after school finished, but to be honest, I was bored shitless.”

I smile at that. Ember has always been definitive about what she likes and doesn’t. She’s not a big shopper because she hates crowds. Her face is free of makeup, revealing freckles that get stronger every summer, because she hates the feel of it on her skin. And loves nothing more than camping out down by the river.

The girl is happier in a sleeping bag and tent than high-end silk in a fancy hotel.

“Thought you’d gone to the beach.”

She rolls her eyes. “I did. But the beach is boring if all you do is lie around in a bikini on towels and try to spot cute men. I read three books, swam every day, and endured more sand in private creases than any woman should ever have to.” Her nose crinkles in disgust.

I try not to think about how good her tits probably looked in that bikini. Even better than that fitted T-shirt she’s wearing right now for sure, which is saying a lot because it reveals an inch of skin above her denim.

“Sounds fucking awful,” I say, sarcastically. Can’t remember the last day I had a true vacation beyond the annual trip to Sturgis for the bike festival. Even that feels like work sometimes. My responsibilities to the ranch and the club don’t leave much time for anything else.

She sticks her tongue out. “I probably sound ungrateful.”

“You sound very you, Ember.”

“Plus, I missed this place.” She opens her arms wide and twirls in the pasture. “No sand. No pretense. Just good old-fashioned clean air, wide-open spaces. And only one good-looking man.”

I raise an eyebrow in warning at her flirting and tip my chin in the direction of Lemmy as a distraction. “He missed you. I took him out a few times, but he doesn’t enjoy himself as much when it’s not you riding him.” I grab my water bottle and take a large gulp. Can’t decide if it’s this arid air or the woman standing in front of me making my mouth dry.

She flicks her hair over her shoulder, dramatically. “He has good taste. Wouldn’t you like me riding you best too?”

When I cough and splutter and choke on the water, she laughs, the sound of it fluttering through the air as if it has wings.

The laughter lights up her face, all the way to the corners of her eyes. “I love teasing you, Hudson.”

“Well, please don’t. If you do it again, I might have a heart attack. And if I don’t die from that, your dad will make sure he puts an end to me. So, for both our sakes, don’t.” The final word comes out a little firmer than I intended it to.

Because I’ve never been more conflicted.

When Ember was young, we’d hang out together at clubhouse events. And as soon as Lemmy moved into our stables, I’d see her every day.

It was impossible to miss the way she loved that horse. But it was more than that. She respects the land. Laughs too loudly at jokes. And while it’s a cliche, her smile makes everything better.

She’s intelligent, hardworking, and never minded getting her hands dirty.

But in a world where my opinion has previously counted for little, where I’m the younger brother to three sisters who know I’ll inherit the ranch just because I’m male, where my father’s style of communication is a one-way flow of orders, Ember listens to me.

Becoming an Outlaw was one of my happiest days, until Butcher took me to one side and made it crystal clear his daughter wasn’t for me. And it was easier to uphold that when she went to college.

But she went away to college a girl, and she’s come home a woman.

A woman I could see myself building a life with. If she were anyone else’s daughter, I’d fight for a chance to make it happen because we love so many of the same things. Have since we were kids growing up in the shadow of the club.

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