Dani stands, a look of concern etching across her wrinkled forehead.
“You going to be all right?” she mutters, pulling me to the side of the bar away from Cherry.
“I’m a fucking wreck,” I admit.
“Bobby Whitfield, nervous about a female. That has to be a first. If only Shadow were here,” Dani smarts. I smirk and run my hands through my hair.
I love Jessica. Admitting that to myself has a rush of adrenaline spike through my chest. A string of excitement and fear mixing to form one coherent thought; I’m over my fucking head.
“Jessica is different. She has always been different,” I admit.
“I know that. I am just glad you are finally admitting it.” Dani places her hands on her hips, her eyes narrowed. Man, how the tables have turned. It used to be me giving Dani a hard time about her and Shadow; now she’s riding my back about Jessica.
“What’s that?” I ask, gesturing toward the cut on the counter, changing the subject. It looks new, and as far as I know, the boys and I haven’t discussed patching any new brothers in, so it must be out for another reason.
Cherry turns, her face serious as she runs her hands over the leather cut.
“A birdy told me you were going on a date with Doc,” Cherry informs, picking the cut up.
“Would this birdy be a little shit with a lip ring?” I laugh, referring to her ol’ man Lip. She laughs and holds the cut up, the back of it reading Property of Bobby, with the club’s colors under it.
“What the fuck is that?” I ask, my tone serious as my eyes widen.
“We all know you want Doc to be your ol’ lady. We’ve heard the way you talk about her. Seen the way you look at her,” Cherry laughs, but I’m not laughing. In fact, I feel like I can’t fucking breathe in this shirt.
“We want to make her family just as much as you do,” Dani remarks softly, standing up from her stool.
“I don’t think—”
“Don’t try and deny it, Bobby,” Cherry interrupts me. I puff my cheeks out as I exhale, my sweating escalating with the turn in conversation.
Cherry slams the cut to my chest and stands from the stool.
“It’s been how many years, Bobby? How much longer are you going to deny that you don’t want to be with her?” Dani questions, her tone sincere. I look at her and see her caring green eyes pleading for me to break my walls. I run my hand through my hair and exhale slowly. There has always been something about Jessica, always something about her.
“I never said I didn’t want Jessica. Ever. She had her way of doing things, and I had my own. It just seemed right not to throw things into complicated before,” I respond, folding the cut in my hands.
“You seem to be talking past tense there,” Dani observes. I suck my bottom lip in and nod.
“Yeah. Well, things have changed,” I mutter.
“It’s time to make her a part of the family permanently,” Cherry continues, smiling.
I am not going to lie, the thought of seeing this on Jessica has my dick twitching with excitement. I can see her wearing this, and only this in my bed.
I sigh loudly and sling the cut over my shoulder. I grab my keys to my new blue Chevy and head toward the garage, leaving the girls to resume their evil plotting of my love life.
“Good luck!” Dani yells.
I stuff the cut under the truck seat, afraid if Jessica sees it, she will run for the hills. I start the engine, the truck shifting from side to side with every press of the accelerator. I slowly pull out of the garage and head toward the highway. Being on my bike so often, it feels weird riding in an enclosed vehicle.
I leave the radio off as I head to Jessica’s, mulling over the boundaries I’ve crossed in the last week or so.
“Fuck,” I mutter, knowing this could be bad. Tonight could either go really well, or destroy Jessica and me.
Parking outside Jessica’s house, I climb out of my truck. Reaching for the security gate, it opens, the lock still broken.
I angrily slam the gate shut and walk inside the building in search of the landlord. Assuming he is the first apartment right when you walk in, I slam my fists on the door repeatedly.
The door swings open and the pudgy excuse for a man walks out. A remote in his hand, and he’s wearing a stained white shirt that’s too short to cover his gut. His eyes widen and his mouth gapes open when he sees me.
“The gate, it’s still broken, why?” I question, my hand pointing toward the gate.
“I called about it and they said they would get out here as soon as they could, man,” Dudley explains, his voice shaky.