Page 4 of Nines's Time

“No, but I am in the middle of making a few myself.”

“Sweet.” She beams me with a radiant smile. “Your clothes rock.”

“Thank you.” I return her smile with one of my own and look to Storm to see her also smiling.

“We wanted to come by and invite you to a cookout at the clubhouse,” Storm announces.

“Clubhouse?” I furrow, not understanding what she’s talking about.

“The Devil’s Riot MC clubhouse,” she clarifies.

“Ahh, oh, okay.” I nod, now understanding. I forgot that she’d said her man was in an MC. I swallow not thinking it a good idea. I’m really not wanting to be around large crowds, especially men.

Sure, working at the pool hall, I had to deal with men, but I had Gavril with me, and he protected me. He’s not here to do that now, and I’m not sure I could handle something happening.

I also don’t want to seem rude by declining.

“Um, I’m not sure if I’ll be able to make it. When are you talking about having the cookout?” I ask.

“It’s Saturday. You just come over whenever you can. It’ll be going well into the night, though I must say the earlier, the better,” Storm answers.

Chelsea, on the other hand, snorts. “Yeah, ‘cause the skanks come out after dark. Which reminds me, I need to pick up some mousetraps.”

I cock a brow at her random reminder. “Why do you need mousetraps?”

Storm giggles as Chelsea grins as big as the Cheshire cat fromAlice in Wonderland.

“I have to have my fun when I can, and I heard a certain harlot is thinking of screwing with us, so I intend to make sure she regrets that decision.”

It’s my turn to laugh. “And you’re going to do it with mousetraps?”

“Babe, it’s gonna be more than those. That’s just part of it.” She waggles her brow.

“Oh lord, do I even want to know what else you’re intending to do?”

“I wouldn’t ask if I were you,” Storm suggests. “I say come and see what happens.”

“I don’t know.” I nibble my bottom lip, wondering how to get out of this without being rude. I like Storm and Chelsea. I haven’t had friends in a long time. My phone chirps on the counter and I excuse myself to check to see who it is. I’m expecting a message from one of the ladies who wanted a gown to confirm an appointment I’d sent to schedule with her.

I pick up the phone and see it’s a message from Gavril telling me to expect him this weekend.

I sigh in relief to have a reason to miss the cookout.

“Sorry,” I mutter, turning back to Storm and Chelsea, waving my phone, “I just found out I have a visitor coming in this weekend.”

“That’s okay. Bring ‘em along if you want,” Chelsea says.

“I’ll see, but I’ll let you know one way or the other,” I say, hoping that will appease them both.

“Okay.” Storm nods and smiles. “Text me if you’re able to make it,” she says and checks the time on her watch. “I’ve got to get back to the clubhouse myself, Blow will be wondering where I am, and the triplets need to be fed.”

I smile as they turn to leave. I can’t believe Storm has triplets and looks the way she does. She’s beautiful with her stark raven-colored hair full of wild curls. I kind of wish that in some ways I was just as beautiful, but I’m nowhere compared in looks.

Growing up I was always this bright blonde-haired girl who was on the short end of the stick when it came to people picking on me and calling me a dumb blonde. I’ve heard every dumb blonde joke there is. The older I got, my hair went from nearly white-blonde to a darker dirty blonde. So many times, I’ve thought of just dying it, but then I rethink it and change my mind.

Needing to finish what I’m working on, I get back to work and push thoughts of anything else out of my mind. For now, it’s just me and the clothes that I’m working on and that’s all I need. The rest can wait.

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