Page 25 of Brew
“I think I stopped being surprised by anything years ago,” she admits, her gaze shifting away. “But that’s a story for another day. Bar is open, just don’t make a mess. Food is in the fridge, just clean up after yourselves. I’ve gotta run some errands.”
“Appreciate it,” I say.
“Yeah, thanks, D, whenever we’re back in Texas, we’ll be sure to stop by.”
She rolls her eyes, then takes off.
Gotta hand it to her, leaving two bikers alone in her clubhouse is a test of loyalty. Not that we’d ever do anything or mess the place up, I’m a neat freak as it is, being a Beret for all those years. Some habits just don’t die hard.
“Nice place,” Sawyer says, looking around. “Bet these walls have some stories to tell.”
“I don’t know,” I say. “Not sure that the Stilettos are wild party animals, judgin’ by how clean everything is.”
“Chicks tend to be way more clean,” Sawyer states.
“I guess.”
“Except you, Mister germaphobe.”
He’s not wrong. I’m not that extreme, but I like things the way I like them. Things have to be neat and tidy and clean. To shower here? I’d have to make sure the shower is clean, or I won’t be going near it.
“She’s nice,” Sawyer goes on.
“Don’t even go there,” I warn. “Like seriously.”
“Didn’t she and Bane have a thing?” Bane Adler is the Prez of our ally club in Mississippi; Ridgehaven Hellions.
“That’s ancient history.”
“Like Haze and Willow?”
I shoot him a look. “You need a hobby, you’re way too invested in other people’s relationships.”
“Not really. I’m a pretty good matchmaker. Speakin’ of which, you hit Erica up for a date yet?”
Hearing her name out of his mouth makes my jaw tick. “She’s an employee, fuckface. Don’t know how many times I have to get that through your thick skull.”
“Your defenses are crumblin’, bro. Just sayin’.”
I ignore him because the last thing Sawyer needs is any kind of encouragement.
Erica was sweet last night, thanking me for the food. At first I thought I fucked up. I don’t donice.But despite what some people think, I can be thoughtful on occasion. I knew what a shitty day she’d had, and the panic that struck her when she thought she’d be late to get to school. I don’t give a fuck she drove my truck, in fact, it’s kinda hot. The sheer size of the thing dwarfed her. She has curves in all the right places, but she’s not a tall woman; the exact opposite. And I like that even more. I like that I could scoop her up in one arm with ease if I wanted. That she’d be dominated by me if I crowded her space against the wall. Fuck, what I’d give to see that fast, labored breath like I did the other day when we accidentally touched. This woman has no clue what she does to me. None. I’d go as far to say that she’s a little clueless.
Maybe I was a little harsh when I said I didn’t like her shorter haircut, but I was just being honest. A man needs something to hold when he’s going to town, and I personally like to wrap my hand around a ponytail… And now I’m fantasizing about her again.
Sawyer makes us a turkey sandwich with homemade cranberry sauce on rye bread that appears to be freshly baked. I could seriously get used to this, but all it reminds me of is Erica bringing her baked goods to work. She’s always spoiling us. If it isn’t pigs in a blanket, fresh jelly donuts and pastries that melt in your mouth, she’s reinventing cookies in all flavors. Then there’s the sourdough. Erica does something to hers that I can’t put my finger on. The texture is melt in your mouth soft…
“We gonna stay here tonight?” Sawyer asks, filling our glasses with a pitcher of water as we sit at the countertop facing the kitchen. It’s kinda weird being in another clubhouse where there’s no activity.
“I think we should head out. Could check out that lead you got about Shreveport on the way home.”
“Could be an idea, plenty of activity in the past. Big Papa has his ear to the ground, but swingin’ by couldn’t hurt. Plus, one of the assholes who was involved in Valencia’s murder was from Shreveport, so it’s a place of interest I always have my eye on.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
The good thing about Sawyer — as annoying as he can be — is he always goes along with the plan. He can take orders. He’ll do what has to be done; and usually it’s some crazy scheme that one or both of us cooked up.
“You don’t make a bad sandwich,” I add. “Didn’t think you had it in you.”
