Page 34 of Hammer

Her chin tilted up, defiance and vulnerability warring in her expression.“I meant what I said, Hammer.I’ll be your old lady in exchange for protection.”

“It’s not that simple,” I said, rougher than I intended.I softened my tone.“Being someone’s old lady in this club isn’t just for show.It’s not something we take lightly.”

“I understand --”

“No, you don’t.”I cut her off, needing her to grasp the weight of what she was offering.“The Dixie Reapers have a code.When we claim a woman, it’s serious.It’s a commitment.”

The porch light cast shadows across her face, highlighting the wariness in her eyes.She’d learned to be cautious, to expect the worst.Piston had taught her that lesson through pain.I wanted to reach for her hand, to offer some comfort, but kept my distance.She needed to hear me out first.

“In this club, there’s no cheating,” I continued.“No sleeping around.If you become my old lady, that means something to every man who wears this patch.”I tapped my cut.“They’ll expect me to handle my business, and they’ll expect you to be loyal.”

“Piston didn’t believe in fidelity,” she said quietly.“At least, not for himself.”

“I’m not Piston.”The words came out harsher than I’d meant, edged with anger at the man who’d hurt her, not at her.“We don’t operate that way here.One woman, one man.And divorce isn’t an option.”

Her eyes widened slightly.“What do you mean?”

“I mean if we do this, we’re in it for good.The club doesn’t recognize divorces.It’s a life commitment.”Of course, her being my old lady was the same as marriage in this place.To my brothers anyway.The women sometimes had a different point of view.

Of course, I left off the part where at my age, a lifetime could mean as few as ten years.She’d still be young enough to start fresh and fall in love with someone more appropriate.

Amelia absorbed this, her fingers twisting the hem of her shirt.I could almost see the wheels turning in her head, weighing the cost of safety against the burden of another permanent bond.

“What about…” She hesitated, a flush creeping up her neck.“Physical expectations?”

There it was.The question I’d been dreading.My jaw tightened as I turned slightly away, staring out into the darkness beyond the porch.Now that I was in my sixties, I wasn’t the man I’d been at thirty.Hell, not even the man I’d been at fifty.

“I won’t force anything,” I said gruffly.“I’m not that kind of man.But you should know… sometimes the equipment doesn’t work like it used to.”The admission burned in my throat, pride making the words difficult.“Age catches up with everyone eventually.”

Silence stretched between us.I kept my gaze fixed on the distant security lights rather than watch her reaction.Damn it all to hell.I hadn’t planned on discussing my occasional dick problems with a woman I barely knew, but she deserved honesty.

“Hammer.”Her voice was softer than I expected.“Look at me.”

I turned, bracing myself for pity or disgust.Instead, her expression held something closer to relief.

“After Piston,” she said carefully, “the idea of… physical demands… it’s not something I’m eager for.If anything, knowing there might be… limitations… makes this easier.”

I blinked, taken aback by her candor.“You’re not concerned?”

“I’m not looking for a lover, Hammer.I’m looking for safety.A companion, and for someone who won’t hurt me or my boys.”She stepped closer, close enough that I could smell the faint scent of coffee that clung to her from the diner.“If we eventually become more… intimate… we’ll figure it out.But it’s not a deal-breaker for me.”

Something loosened in my chest -- a tension I hadn’t realized I was carrying.It still bothered me, this arrangement based on necessity rather than desire, but knowing she wasn’t expecting sexual miracles eased one of my concerns.

“Besides,” she added with a small, hesitant smile, “there’s more to a relationship than just… that.”

I studied her face in the dim light, searching for any sign of deception.All I found was tired honesty and cautious hope.This woman had endured hell with Piston, had risked everything to protect her boys, and now stood before me offering herself as collateral for their safety.The weight of that responsibility settled on my shoulders, heavier than my cut had ever felt.

“If we do this,” I said slowly, “it’s real to the world.You wear my patch, you’re under my protection.The club will treat you as my woman.Your boys will be considered my responsibility.And we’ll sleep in the same bed, whether or not anything happens other than sleeping.Are you prepared for that?”

She nodded, a single decisive movement.“Yes.”

The simple answer hung between us, neither of us quite believing we were having this conversation.A frog croaked loudly from somewhere nearby, the sound almost comically ordinary against the gravity of the moment.

“All right then,” I said, still not entirely convinced this wasn’t a massive mistake.“But there’s more we need to discuss.”

Amelia shifted her weight, angling her body slightly away from me.Her gaze drifted toward the house where her boys were with Aura and Sam.When she looked back at me, her expression had hardened with maternal determination.

“What about my boys?”she asked, her voice steady but thin with tension.“Before we go any further, I need to know how you’ll treat them.”

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