Page 13 of Wild Side
I’ve showered and changed into something that hides my bloated-looking belly, but now I don’t want to go anywhere. I’ve been waiting for an update from Sable, but I have nothing to update.
And as time continues to pass, the more I think about the phone call from earlier, the more I’m pretty sure she’s fucking my dad, which makes me feel more than a little nauseous.
I bite my bottom lip as I pace the motel room. I came all the way here, and I need to do it. I need to tell him about thebaby. If I don’t, then I’m a bigger coward than I could have ever imagined. But more importantly, my dad will barrel in here and take over.
I need to have some sort of control over this before he gets here. Because once my father shows his face, all bets of a civil conversation are going to be off.
Closing my eyes, I inhale a deep breath, hold it for a moment, then let it out slowly before I head toward the door. My time to contemplate, to live in a bubble, is over. I need to do what I came here to do, even if it feels like I might explode.
I reach for the knob, twist, and tug the door open. Then step out into the setting sunlight and dip my chin as I head for the Jeep. I try not to think about my movements. I can’t, because if I do, I’ll go right back into the motel room and lock myself inside.
I quickly climb into the front seat and start the engine before I enter the address of the clubhouse into the GPS. It took me some doing to find the address, and half of me hopes it’s wrong—the cowardly half.
Ten minutes.
I’ll be at the gates in ten minutes.
Looking around, I decide to just go for it. Eyes wide shut. Shifting the car intoReverse, I back out of the spot, but instead of going straight to the clubhouse, I get sidetracked by a bakery downtown. Though, this is likely because of the cowardly part of me, which is looking for any excuse to make a pit stop and drag out arriving at my destination.
I park right in front, climb out of the car, and walk straight to the door. I don’t hesitate as I reach for the handle and tug the door open. I don’t know what the hell I’m doing other than wasting time and procrastinating the inevitable, if you will.
The sun is setting, and I know what happens once the sun goes down at the clubhouse. If it’s anything like the ViciousReapers in California… it’s chaos. That’s what ensues. And there won’t be any sort of civilized conversations happening.
“Can I help you?” the woman behind the counter asks.
She’s maybe a few years older than me, but her curly hair is beyond stunning. As a straight-haired girl, I have always been supremely envious of curly-haired girls. Giving her a smile, I step up to the counter.
There are prettily decorated cupcakes, each one looking like a flower, and there are muffins and breads, too. It all smells and looks amazing. I order a lemon poppyseed muffin and a chocolate cupcake.
“Thank you,” I say, smiling at her.
She dips her chin, then goes back to whatever she was doing before I walked in here. I walk over to one of the tables with two chairs and sit down, continuing to waste time. I decide to eat the cupcake now, though, maybe I should wait until I’ve talked with Maverick. I might want to eat my feelings in sugar after our conversation.
I should probably just buy an extra one for that.
That’s what I decide to do. Cupcake for now, this muffin will be for breakfast, and I’ll buy an extra cupcake for later tonight in my motel room while I cry. I have a feeling I’m going to need every single carb I can get by the time I roll into the parking lot later.
When I take my first bite of the chocolate heaven cake, I hear a motorcycle roar up to the front of the building. My eyes widen as I swing my gaze toward the front window. There is a motorcycle and a man throwing his leg over the side.
I watch as he tugs on his cut, one that I recognize. A Vicious Reapers cut. Oh shit. He moves straight for the door to the bakery. He tugs it open, then moves into the shop, and I hold my breath, watching as he makes his way toward the counter.
Never in a million years would I ever anticipate seeing a guy from my dad’s MC walk into a freaking bakery. But this one does, standing at the counter. The girl running the shop lifts her head. She gives him a warm smile, and I can’t help but stare at the exchange.
“You got that shit done?” he asks.
Inwardly, I smile because this makes more sense to me. His rough and crude demeanor while in a sweet bakery. I almost giggle but am able to stifle it as I watch the exchange.
“I do, but you need to ask me nicely.”
I can only imagine the look on his face. Biting the inside of my cheek, I try not to laugh. The girl behind the counter giggles, then turns and walks to the back of the shop and returns with a box in her hand. The man takes it, grunts, and turns around. I watch him walk out of the bakery, then shift my attention back to her.
She gives me a smile, rolling her eyes to the ceiling before she speaks. “That’s my brother. He’s an asshole.”
I laugh softly and try not to ask her a million questions about said brother and the club. I try so hard that I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from saying something and draw blood. She goes back to her job, and I return to my cupcake.
I dilly-dally far longer than I should. I stay until the bakery closes and thank the girl for everything as I buy an evening cupcake, leaving only to drag my feet to the Jeep. I can feel her eyes on me, watching me as I climb into the driver’s seat. I think about going back to the motel. Clearly, it’s going to be dark by the time I arrive at the clubhouse, but I decide to just do it anyway.
Chaos be damned.
