Page 75 of Bullet

When this place does come to life with biker parties, club functions, the community barbeques that Bullet talked about, I know that I’ll do more than just survive it. I’ll be a part of it, happily. Even if I don’t feel that I fit in exactly, that’s okay. These men might have the leather and denim uniform down, but that doesn’t mean they don’t each have unique personalities and stories. The club accepts them for who they are without asking them to change.

“You’re much prettier than Harold was, that’s for sure,” Smoke offers with a shit-eating grin. “Seeing as you’re not a total fucker all around, I think you’ll get along just fine here. Professionally and personally.”

There’s a murmur of assent through the room that amazes me. Old or young, broad or tall and lanky, grizzled or well groomed, the men give a collective nod that is like an official stamp of approval.

I clear my throat, drawing on courage that for once, isn’t manufactured. “Thank you for having me. I will do my best not to be an all-around fucker.”

There’s a momentary pause, then the room breaks into loud laughter and applause. I’ve never seen such big, genuine smiles or felt warmth like this. I get the smallest glimpse why Bullet was drawn to this place, to some of these men, and wanted to stay. It’s an enormous commitment to take vows saying you’ll die for someone else and that you’ll always put your club and the men in it above your own needs and wants.

When I think of Willa, and how I would do anything to protect her, or to let her grow and find happiness in her own way, I understand.

Smoke’s eyes crinkle at the corner, a little bit of charm sneaking through the snark. “Well. Sounds like that’s good enough for us.”

I guess that’s our official welcome. We can relax now, until we get pulled into the meeting to sign all the official documents. I emailed the retainer and everything else over to Tyrant before we left the house.

This warm, unexpected welcome was one thing, but when I angle in towards Bullet, my eyes finding his, I can tell I was the only one who had doubts about my acceptance here. The golden flecks deep in the depths of the soft brown shine with such strong emotion that it’s hard to breathe.

I’m suffused with tenderness, with softness, with a flood of sensations that jumble together and solidify into care and loyalty, joy and delight. Right from the first time I saw him, I wasdrawn in by his magnetism and light. I knew it too, and that’s why I fought it so hard.

I don’t have to stop fighting. I can just fight next to him. I can fight for these men who I know I’ll come to know and cherish, and for their families. I might always be a lawyer in my soul, but there’s room to be more. A woman. A lover. A partner. Maybe even a little bit of a bad ass biker babe in my own right.

“Are you up for a quick game of kicking Smoke’s ass in pool before our meeting?” Bullet asks just loud enough that Smoke hears. “I haven’t had time to give him a rematch since that night you first came here.”

“I believe you’re the one looking for redemption,” Smoke scoffs. “And if we’re partnering up, then I pick Odin. He might only have one eye, but he’s always watching.”

A middle-aged man, as gruff and rough as they come, steps out of the crowd. I don’t know everyone’s names yet, but I’ll work on that. It’s important to know a man’s name and call him by it, especially because these men chose their monikers. Some of them might appear silly, but they define who they are, and honoring their choice is important.

Some I’ve never seen before, but others I recognize from the ride out that night to meet Willa on the road. Stranger to me or not, there’s no man in here who has anything but warmth imprinted into his harsh features.

Oden does indeed have only one eye. He rocks an eye patch over the other. He winks at me, which is entirely disconcerting and oddly almost charming. He clearly has a good sense of humor.

“I’m ready to kick ass,” Odin says, but facing the wall. He whips around, appearing to be disoriented. “Just point me in the right direction.”

A rowdy round of laughter goes up again, bouncing off the brick walls and open beams.

Bullet passes me a pool cue, probably knowing full well that I’ve never played pool in my life, but for him, I’m more than willing to humiliate myself. I know that any laughter it causes will only be good natured, and it’s okay to let my guard down and just have fun.

“Don’t worry. I’ll pull our weight if I need to.” Bullet grazes a kiss over my knuckles before dropping his hand to the small of my back.

I know he’s not just talking about pool.

While the scent of baking apple pie wraps slowly around the lounge, we play. Bullet instructs and I try to follow. As I expected, there is plenty of laughter and a whole lot of crude joking, but not at my expense. All of it pulls my own laughter from me, until there are tears in my eyes that I have to brush discreetly away.

By the time the game is over, with us getting thoroughly spanked, the pie is out of the oven and Tyrant is rounding up the officers to head into the meeting.

“You okay?” Bullet asks, checking in while he leads me to the kitchen where Lark saved a piece just for me.

There’s already talk of going out to the store and getting several more pies for the rest of the club, now that everyone is starved at the scent of the one that’s been freshly baked.

The numbers are atrocious. Forty-eight pies?

Then again, a few of those guys are big enough to take down a whole one themselves.

We’re alone in the kitchen, probably just for a few seconds, but I take the opportunity to stand on my tiptoes and press a kiss to Bullet’s lips. In an instant, he deepens it, turning it wonderfully filthy with his tongue and teeth. I have to swat at him to get him to quit.

“I’m okay,” I confirm.

We both know that what I’m feeling is so much more than just okay, but it’s as good a word as any, since no words will truly do this feeling justice.

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