Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 119092 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 595(@200wpm)___ 476(@250wpm)___ 397(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119092 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 595(@200wpm)___ 476(@250wpm)___ 397(@300wpm)
Not that I’d tell her that—who wants to hear that their dad’s hot?
The most compelling thing about Picnic, though, was his air of command, mixed with just a hint of menace. I would’ve known he was club president even without the patch on his cut to tell me.
No wonder guys were scared to ask her out.
“Dad, this is Sophie,” Em continued. “She’s Ruger’s … Um, what are you, anyway?”
“I’m sort of his stepsister-in-law,” I said, smiling awkwardly. “His stepbrother, Zach, is my son’s father.”
“He mentioned you were back in town,” Picnic said. His face gave away nothing, and I couldn’t tell if he was happy to meet me or annoyed I’d crashed their party.
“This is Slide and Gage,” Em continued, nodding toward the other men.
“Nice to meet you,” I said. Slide was a short, middle-aged guy with a bit of a gut and a beard that wasn’t totally white, but close. He didn’t actually look old enough for such white hair, so maybe he was just one of those guys whose hair changes early? He had a real Santa vibe going for him. Well, if Santa wore ripped jeans and carried a giant knife on his belt.
Gage was another hottie. He had dark hair, so dark it was almost black, and his skin held just enough color to make me think his ancestors hadn’t all been of the milky-white variety. Latino or Indian, most likely. Because sometimes God is generous and kind, Gage wasn’t wearing a shirt, offering me glimpses of his bare chest, which was every bit as ripped as Ruger’s. He had fewer tattoos, though. His cut had a little patch under his name that said “Sgt. at Arms,” which surprised me. I guess I hadn’t expected bikers to have so many officers and such. It just seemed so … organized?
Not only that, they obviously had to pass some sort of minimum hotness test to join up.
“You Ruger’s woman?” he asked, breaking the spell I’d fallen into. I blushed, hoping my pervy thoughts weren’t totally written all over my face. The smirk on his face wasn’t comforting.
“Um, no,” I said, glancing over at Em. She grinned. “But he’s letting us stay in his basement. I have a seven-year-old. Our old place in Seattle wasn’t working out.”
That was the understatement of the year, for sure.
“Where’s the kid?” he asked, glancing around.
“He’s with a sitter,” I said. “This is my first club event, and I sort of wanted to check things out for myself before dragging him along.”
Picnic raised a brow, and I realized I’d probably just insulted them. Great.
“Also, I hear the parties go pretty late,” I added quickly. “I didn’t want to have to leave just when things were getting fun. A friend offered to watch him, so here I am.”
Em grinned at me and I gave a sigh of relief. Okay, apparently my quick save had actually worked.
“Well, you get bored, come and see me,” Gage said, offering a slow smile. “I’d be happy to show you around, maybe even take you for a ride later.”
“Um, thanks,” I replied, Ruger’s warning ringing through my head. Gage was cute, but despite the fact that I didn’t acknowledge Ruger’s right to give orders, I also didn’t want to get into a huge fight with him. “Nice to meet you all. I’m gonna go find Marie and Dancer now. I want to make sure they don’t need any help setting things up or something.”
“I’ll come with,” Em said, popping up on her toes to give Picnic a quick kiss on the cheek. For all her whining about him, she obviously adored the man. I felt a twinge of jealousy. Even before they’d kicked me out, my parents were never the kind of people you’d just casually walk up to and kiss.
Nope, not in the Williams household. I’d been devastated when they said they’d have nothing to do with a daughter who was a whore, let alone her bastard. Now I realized I was way better off without them. Noah’s circle might be small, but everyone in it loved him unconditionally, and they weren’t afraid to show it.
My parents didn’t deserve to meet their grandson.
We found Dancer, Marie, and Maggs arranging a mountain of food on the tables, laughing and smacking hands playfully as guys tried to steal bites before it was ready.
“Thanks for picking up the chips,” Maggs said. I noticed all three women wore black leather vests.
“I thought you said only guys could be club members?” I asked, nodding toward them.
“Oh, these aren’t club cuts,” Dancer said. “Check it out.”
She turned around and I saw a patch on the back that said “Property of Bam Bam,” along with a Reapers symbol. My eyes widened.
“I didn’t realize the property thing was so … literal …”
“The guys have their colors and we have ours,” Maggs said. “Civilians don’t get it, but all the patches mean something. The guys fly their colors because they’re proud of the club, but their cuts tell stories, too. You can learn a lot about the guy by the patches he wears. It’s like a language or something. Everyone knows where everyone else stands.”