Page 14 of Loch
Nate: You can handle it.
I laughed really loud.
Me: I have no doubt. But I’m talking about your truck ;) I need like a booster seat just to see over the steering wheel.
Was I flirt texting with Nate? I shook my head and tossed my phone aside. I needed to stop.
The rest of the weekend went by pretty much went by pretty slow. There wasn’t a lot of action going on in the bar. Chris was there to keep me from going bored out of my mind and Brandon joined later in the night. Luckily, the club skanks didn’t come back. I guessed they figured they did the damage they had hoped for.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Loch
The weekend seemed to drag on. I wasn’t interested in any of the girls there. Diesel had his dick in enough of them for the both of us. I wondered if he had a sex problem or was just truly never satisfied with what he got. On top of that, I was pissed that Reagan didn’t listen to me. I was pissed that the club girls showed up to the bar. And I was pissed that whatever they said obviously hurt her. I had this strange need to protect her. She was strong, I got that, but I could see inside she was a little broken and fragile. Though, that was something she would ever admit.
I called Cal and had him put the club girls in their place. I really wanted to be the one to do it, but it couldn’t wait ‘til I got back. I wasn’t going to take a chance that they would go back and keep digging their claws in.
I was sitting alone on a couch in the Tennessee clubhouse when I got a text from Reagan. I was bored and I knew it showed. But I was over being there at that point. I was just ready to get back. I laughed at her words. I wondered if she did it on purpose. I couldn’t help but send something a little dirty back. Her next text sent thoughts straight down to my dick.I have no doubt.I wondered if she had thought about it. Like really thought about it. My head filled with an image of her lying in her bed at night, thinking about what it would be like to be fucked by me. My cock perked up and let me know exactly how he felt about the idea. I shifted uncomfortably, a movement that wasn’t lost on Bocca.
“Her, isn’t it?” he asked from across the room. I cut my eyes, scanning the room. No one was paying attention. I shot him a look that let him know I wasn’t going to talk about it. “Off limits. I got it.” With that, he turned away from me.
A little while later, Brass flopped down beside me. He had been the president of the Grey Fort, Tennessee chapter for over twenty years.
“You look like you’d rather be anywhere but here,” he said in a light hearted tone. I chuckled.
“Yeah, man. But it’s not you,” I replied.
“Oh yeah? Things good back home?”
“Yeah, club is good. Just other stuff. I don’t know, brother.” I didn’t want to talk about it. Mostly because I didn’t know what it was to talk about.
Reagan was new in my life. And while she walked in seemed to suck all of the air out of the room, I had no idea why. I couldn’t stop thinking about her. It bothered more than it should have.
“I gotcha.” He nodded slowly like he was taken away in a memory for a moment.
“Dad,” his daughter, Gwen, broke through the silence a few minutes later.
“Yeah, over here.” Brass held up his hand and waved across the room.
“Oh, hey, Loch,” she said as she walked up.
“Hey, Gewnie. How are you doing?” I asked giving her my full attention.
I’d known her as long as she’d been on this green earth. She was always a bubbly kid. Always getting in to trouble, too. She was raised in the club. All the guys treated her like she was their own. I almost felt bad for any guy she ever tried to date. But then again, if she were my girl, I would want all the backup I could get.
“Good, thanks.” She flashed me a sweet smile before she turned her attention to her dad. “Stacy is picking me up and we are going to go to the library and work on our project. I’ll be home by ten, I promise.”
“Alright. Be safe,” he called out as she bounced off. “Fuck, what am I doing to do next year when she goes off to college?” He grumbled. I laughed.
“Wow, hard to imagine. Seems like just yesterday she was crawling around here in diapers, hiding from the brothers under the pool tables,” I said and he laughed at the memory.
“Yeah, and Cringer’s son be will done with college next year. Times are changin’.”
Cringer’s son, Knight, and Gwen were only four years apart. Both born into club life. Growing up those two were inseparable. When Gwen lost her mother to breast cancer when she was only seven, Knight didn’t leave her side for days. Who would have thought he would take his name so seriously? I imagined it was hard on her when he left for college.
“He comin’ back?” I asked. There was a time Cringer thought his son might go off into the world never to return. He wasn’t sure Knight wanted the club life.
“Yeah,” Brass said. “He called me up just the other week. He wants to prospect when he comes home.”
