Total pages in book: 51
Estimated words: 50311 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 252(@200wpm)___ 201(@250wpm)___ 168(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 50311 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 252(@200wpm)___ 201(@250wpm)___ 168(@300wpm)
“She’s got teeth,” he says, glancing at Little Foot. “Might be the best thing you’ve brought back yet.”
What the hell? I’m confused. Some of the other guys chuckle.
“Just don’t bite any of my brothers,” Rex adds to me.
“No promises,” I say trying to match the energy around me.
That gets a real laugh, and the tension breaks.
He claps Little Foot on the back and walks off, barking orders at a couple of prospects near the loading dock.
I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding.
“You did good,” Little Foot says.
“I didn’t faint, if that’s what you mean.”
He grins. “That too.”
He introduces me to a few others—Hawk, who gives me a once-over and a nod of approval; Smoke, who has Nomad on his patch, who just grunts; and a prospect who has no name according to him, who stares at me like I’m a UFO. I wave at him and he nearly trips over his own boots.
By the time we head back to the trailer, I’m exhausted. It’s been so much change in a short amount of time. And I hate to admit it, but I don’t know the last time I really felt safe enough to sleep, really sleep, not just a cat nap or a doze.
I flop on the bed, stretching out like I haven’t slept in a year. Little Foot kicks off his boots and sits beside me, quiet.
“Think they bought it?” I ask.
He nods. “They’ll talk, but yeah. You held your own.”
“That was the easy part,” I murmur. “The hard part’s going to be pretending I know how to live here.”
“You’re doing fine.”
He leans back, arms folded behind his head.
I turn toward him, resting on my side. “Why me?”
He glances over. “What do you mean?”
“You could’ve picked anyone. Some club girl. Someone who knows how to play house in this world.”
“I don’t need a woman. I don’t know, Cambria. I can’t explain it. I’ve always been the wild one. I go with my gut no matter what. I don’t want just anyone,” he says simply. “I want real. You, baby, are real. No thought to even try to play games or use someone.”
I blink. “I’m not even sure I know what that means.”
“You’re not trying to be something you’re not. You just are. That matters.”
I lay there for a moment, letting the quiet fill the room.
No one’s ever said something like that to me before.
Later, we eat dinner on the back steps. Just peanut butter sandwiches and beer for him, water for me, watching the sun dip behind the trees. He tells me about the club—how it started, what it stands for, the brothers he trusts and the ones he doesn’t. I listen, memorizing names, trying to file every detail away so I don’t embarrass him.
When it gets dark, he builds a small fire in a rusted barrel and we sit beside it, passing a stick with marshmallows between us as he builds me smores until I feel like I might puke.
“I know it’s just pretend,” I say, staring into the flames, “but thank you for bringing me here.”
He passes me the bottle. “You’re welcome. But it’s your pace. You don’t want pretend, we see where this goes. It doesn’t have to be pretend. I am for real. You wanna get married to have security, we can go to the courthouse tomorrow.”
I look at him, heart pounding. “It doesn’t have to be pretend?” I ask feeling overwhelmed. This is crazy.
He shakes his head. “Nah. I think it stopped being pretend the second you climbed on the back of my bike.”
We don’t kiss now nor before. How can he be so sure?
“You’re impulsive.”
“You have said that and,” he smiles, “I’ve been told that more than once before.”
“We haven’t even kissed, Drew. How can you want to make me your wife?”
“Not yet, we haven’t. It isn’t time. As for making you my wife. I trust my gut. Always follow it. I fuck up, it’s on me and I’ll eat the crow for it. But this feels right.”
Not yet. He said we haven’t kissed yet. He wants to kiss me. He wants this to be real. He wants to let me into his world. It’s so much to understand.
I fall asleep next to him that night feeling more wanted than I ever have in my entire life. And when I wake the next morning, I don’t panic.
I just breathe.
Because for the first time, this life might actually belong to me.
The next few days pass in a blur.
Little Foot doesn’t leave me alone—not in a suffocating way, but protective. Like he knows this place could swallow me whole if he’s not watching. He brings me to meals at the clubhouse, keeps me close during runs into town, walks me around the edge of the property like he’s drawing out the map of my new life.