Page 12 of Wolf.e
That’s his actual name.
Layla smiles back, she can’t know any of my struggles by my tone. I’m a pro after growing up with my parents.
I force a big happy smile and hug her. I don’t know whatI expected when she gave me her address to an older part of town, but it was not this. This little pocket of hundred-year-old homes on sprawling properties has been totally revived. It looks like new families have moved in and everything is up kept and very Hallmark-ish. Layla’s house is no exception. It’s a 1920s Craftsman-style house and has been fully renovated. I’m pleasantly surprised and remind myself this doesn’t look like the home of a criminal. Layla’s house is rustic and girly but somehow still smells like leather even though her fiancé isn’t here. I look over the photos that line the table in the living room. The man Layla is marrying looks like the other club members I’ve seen around town since I’ve been home. The only one I haven’t seen again is their club president. And for some reason, I’ve been looking every time I hear the tell-tale rumble of a Harley on Main. If anything, just to show myself he isn’t as captivating as I remember.
I smile at a photo of Layla and her fiancé where his arms are wrapped around her waist and he’s biting her earlobe. Layla’s man has her name tattooed under his left eye. It’s small but that’s commitment if I’ve ever seen it.
I toss my hair over my shoulder as I kick my heels off so I don’t mark up their shiny hardwood floor.
I’m determined to push down my worries about where I’m going and just try to have some fun this weekend.
I called the contractor Mr. Kennedy gave me this afternoon and he flat out told me I’m looking at thousands to fix the porch.
It’s just the type of problem I’m not prepared to worry about until Monday.
“Okay, we have time for one toast and then we need to go. I have to see what these boys did all day… God, I knew I never should’ve left Sean in charge of décor,” Layla says nervously.
Something else I learned over lunch the other day is that Layla’s fiancé has a real name. Shockingly, he wasn’t born as Ax.
“Shelly will help him and make sure it’s beautiful,” Chantel says.
Layla nods. “Yes, you’re right. Okay, one shot then we’ll go!” she calls out.
I can’t help but notice how beautiful she looks tonight in pale pink silk. Her hair is upswept and she has glittery pins holding it in place. It’s a shame her parents didn’t live long enough to see her wedding day; although, I know they wouldn’t approve of her marrying into the MC anyway, so maybe it’s for the best.
I take my shot and knock it back the way the other girls do as we all take a seat in Layla’s comfortable living room. The shot is surprisingly sweet and sugary. Chantel sets her shot glass down and asks me if I’ve ever been to a clubhouse before.
“No,” I answer honestly. “I was always told to stay away from anyone associated with the club.” I look at Layla. “We both were.”
“That didn’t work out so well,” Amber says with a giggle as she fluffs her hair.
“Brin saw Wolfe and a few of the guys this week, though, and almost pissed her panties,” Layla tells them. The girls laugh as they down another shot.
I groan. “It was…embarrassing, but I froze. I just sat there and stared at him. He looked me over like he was about to demand my personal info,” I comment. “And he seems…terrifying, he stared right at me.”
“He is,” they all say in unison and laugh some more.
“But goddamn, he’s fucking hot. BDE for sure,” Amber snorts out.
“BDE?” I ask, and the girls laugh harder.
“You are innocent, aren’t you, new girl?” Maria chuckles.
“Biker dick energy,” Chantel fills me in.
Oh.
Hot? I’ve never looked at a man like that as hot before. Visions of him pinning me up against his bike overtake me. My body heats and I feel the pink creeping up my cheeks. I squeeze my eyes shut to force the vision from my mind.
“And trust me, he lives up to the hype,” Chantel says, cutting into my thoughts like she knows firsthand.
I cross my ankles and play with the hem on my dress.
“I can’t even imagine being with a man like that. He’s intimidating, to say the least,” I say, focusing on the hem like it’s the most intriguing thing on earth.
“You can be afraid of him and still want him…” Chantel says. They all laugh, and now I think theyallknow firsthand.
“Forgive me for asking this but, have youallslept with him?” I ask incredulously.
