Page 48 of Sparrow

Sparrow had been staring at the door since he went in. How long did those meetings take? There couldn’t have been much other business, could there?

She knew the rules of becoming an Ol’ Lady. She’d heard enough women and club sluts talk about it, but she couldn’t imagine it had to take close to an hour. When the door opened, she’d sucked in a breath and held it, trying to gauge the outcome by the faces of the men who spilled out into the main room.

None of them gave anything away. Hell, none of them even looked at her. It wasn’t until she saw him, and the giant grin on his face did she finally let go of that breath. She jumped off the barstool and ran toward him.

His mouth crashed against hers the moment their bodies collided. Wrapping his large arms around her, he lifted her and swung her around while he claimed her with his kiss. Everything around them faded away when her feet landed on the floor and he continued their embrace.

The feel of his rough hands up her body, cupping her cheeks, sent shivers through her. They’d been fucking around each night, unable to keep their hands off one another, but Sparrow hadn’t let him fuck her since the night at the motel. He was hurt, and thinking with his little head would only hurt him more. She didn’t want him to pop a stitch. To say that her body was on fire for him was an understatement.

“All right, you two,” Bowie said, and she heard the heavy thud of his hand on Jacob’s back.

Reluctantly, she pulled her face away from his, ending the kiss to look at Bowie. Jacob snaked his arms around her as though he wouldn’t be letting her go from now on.

Smiling, Bowie took a deep breath. “Never had girls,” he said, like she didn’t already know. “And I can’t say I regret that. You’ve grown into a good woman, Sparrow. Don’t let no one tell you different.”

He opened his arms, and when she went to hug the man, Jacob squeezed her. When the president shot him a glare, he relented so she could offer the man a hug. “Thank you,” she whispered. “I know you did all you could.”

“I should have done more,” he said for her ears only.

With a kiss to her cheek, Bowie ended their embrace, and once more clapped Jacob on the shoulder. With his head held high, the man headed to the bar, demanding whiskey.

Turning, she looked up to Jacob. “How do we celebrate?” she asked.

“One shot, maybe two for you,” he said, nodding at Dash. “Just enough to give the prospects time to add your cushion before we’re on the road. It’s a long-ass ride to Montana and you still have to pack up some of your shit. The rest, your mom can send.”

The trio headed to the bar, her man’s arm around her with his hand resting on her hip on one side, and the bald man he called his best friend on the other. Never had she thought she’d feel the safest with men from a club outside of Ohio, but here she was nestled between two men who had stood up for her and believed in her when an entire clubhouse that had grown up with her couldn’t be bothered.

Basking in the moment, she didn’t hear what Dash ordered for them. She was too busy smiling up at Jacob, her man. He wasn’t perfect, but he believed in her dream and wanted the best for her. In the end, wasn’t that the point?

When Dixie slid the shot glasses toward them, announcing their arrival, she pulled her focus away from Jacob. Lifting hers high, she waited for the men to do the same. “What are we going to toast to?”

“To Romeo and Juliet,” the bald biker announced.

“What?” She laughed, looking over her shoulder at Jacob, who groaned.

Shaking his head, her man sighed. “Just go with it.”

Sparrow wrinkled her nose. “How about…”

“Lollipops and Leather?” Dash suggested.

“That sounds like a strip club,” Dixie commented from behind the bar. “I think I danced there when I was eighteen.”

“Mom! Gross.”

“To keeping promises no matter how long it takes,” Jacob suggested with a grin, alluding to the promise he’d take her for a ride on his bike. He finally had and they had a long ride to Montana coming up.

The three of them clinked their shot glasses before throwing them back.

“It’s always been you,” Jacob whispered in her ear as he wrapped his arms around her waist. “Nothing else matters.”

Epilogue

Sparrow

Sparrow didn’t care how many breaks they took or how frequent they were—twenty-four hours on a 1990 Fat Boy fucking sucked donkey balls. That bike was not meant for long ass rides. She’d ridden on the back of exactly three Harley Davidsons in her lifetime. Granted, none of them for a twenty-four hour trek, but she could, without a shadow of a doubt, declare the silver Fat Boy from 1990 was not meant for this shit.

Jacob may be the love of her life, but she’d sell his soul for a touring bike if he tried this shit again. Hell-to-the-motherfucking no. Nope. There was no way he would talk her ass into climbing on the back of that thing again for that long. Sure, the backrest was nice. Yes—cute as all hell too. Fine, but Jesus-fucking-Christ. Her ass hurt in places she didn’t know an ass could hurt.

---