Page 98 of Blue

Mooky had witnessed the look of pride in his brothers’ eyes for their ol’ ladies when the property vest was new. Especially the young guys—the ones who’d just gotten the vote for it. He’d seen the shit-eating grins, the possessive way they held on to their women, and how they stood a little taller with them by their sides. They always gazed upon their women with fresh eyes—like they’d just won the grand prize at the county fair.

Like a jaded buffoon, he’d mocked them. Having only his marriage to Angela to compare, he hadn’t the faintest clue what they’d felt.

The moment Mooky slid the new stiff leather over Blue’s arms and let it nestle on her shoulders—BLAOW. It struck him in the chest like Mike Tyson’s fist.

Property of Mooky. Motherfucking property of Mooky. Damn straight.

The glaringly bright stitching around the curved patches, her rockers, practically glowed in the night. To keep himself from tracing the stitching, he brought his fist to his mouth and pressed his teeth into his fingers.

He swallowed hard as she turned. He’d never seen a more magnificent sight in his life. His gaze drifted to the small patch on her lapel, which read Blue, and his hand fell. Another wave of prepubescent giddiness washed over him. The goofiest of grins to spread across his face. He didn’t care how he looked.

It nearly floored him when he finally lifted his gaze and met hers. Not only did she have a matching, ludicrous smile, but the shine in her eyes could illuminate the parking lot. Unable to restrain himself, he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into a tight bear hug.

She’d just thrown up, so he didn’t squeeze too hard, or well, he let up a bit when he remembered. He didn’t need a repeat of that. And her stomach could be sore. He didn’t want to make her feel worse.

Quite the opposite, actually.

Her silky, boldly colored hair against his cheek made this home. She was his woman. Her soft body was against his chest, her arms wrapped around his waist. It all fit perfectly. This was where she belonged and where he belonged—all he wanted and needed in life.

“It’s our time,” he murmured into her ear before offering her soft kisses. “At church tomorrow, I’ll request the vote if you want me to.” He pulled back so he could meet her eyes. “So it’ll be official.”

Odin’s Fury made their men vote on whether a brother could claim a woman as his ol’ lady. The club had to accept her as his. With their history of two men vying for the same woman, it made sense. Mooky had seen how that had gone down. Thankfully, it wouldn’t be the case for him and Blue. She’d been all his and would continue to be if she desired to be.

Blue had a say. He would never make that decision for her, even if he could. Mooky wanted to know she was just as deep in it as he was.

But she’d just vomited. This may not be the best time to ask that. This wasn’t how he’d pictured this moment. He’d imagined putting her on the back of his bike, where she belonged. And bringing her home. Then he wanted to show her the divorce papers. They’d fuck like rabbits all night and christen every room of his house in celebration.

The next day, he wanted to make her breakfast, maybe introduce her to his kids, before he took her to the clubhouse. Once there, he’d have given her the property vest, then told her about the vote. It would’ve been perfect. That would’ve been their fairy tale.

But she’d just yacked on her shoes and his boots. This was out of order. He’d done it wrong.

Blue was correct. They never got the right time. True to fashion, he gave the vest to her at the wrong occasion.

Mooky smiled.

Why break with tradition? It worked for them so far.

“Time doesn’t mean anything,” he told her as he cupped her face. “All that matters is that you and I are together. That you are my ol’ lady and that I’m your ol’ man.”

He pressed his forehead to hers.

“Do you still want that?”

Do you still want me?

It stayed on his lips—going unsaid. Scanning her eyes, he put everything out there. And he’d never felt more vulnerable in his life.

He was very aware she still hadn’t answered him. Had he misread that smile and that light in her eyes? Had it just been glassiness from her drunken state? That smile could have been because she’d stopped throwing up.

Fuck.

He’d totally misread the moment. She literally could’ve just been cold. Fuck him in the ass with a stolen dick. She could be fucking blackout drunk right now. She might remember none of this in the morning.

The wrong time. Damnit!

Blue

Did she still want that? Again, her stomach gurgled, threatening to spill out onto the pavement. Her guts were already there with everything she’d drunk that evening. What else was left?

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