The shop outside is filled with shit from one end of the eighteen-by-twenty-four-foot building to the other. It takes me ten minutes to find the two old window units I knew were out there, but I finally do.
“So, who takes care of this place when you are gone?” Saylor asks from the door. She is showered and standing there looking dangerously sexy in cutoffs and a white wifebeater with no bra.
“We have a chapter here. They cover the pipes and cut the yard.” I take care of the inside, which hasn’t really been taken care of.
“Well, that’s nice of them,” she offers, and I have a feeling Saylor is looking for conversation.
“If you say so.” I haul one of the units out, and head inside with Saylor on my heels. I put the unit in the living room, figuring it will cool the front of the house, which is where we will spend the majority of our time. Once it’s plugged in and running, I turn to find her fanning herself, covered in a sheen of sweat, and I contemplate turning it back off. She’s sexy when she’s sweaty.
“I’ll get the truck running, and you can go to town and get whatever you want. You may want to go by the grocery store since we are gonna be here awhile.” There is no reason to shield her in my hometown. She is safer here than anywhere else. Now that the club knows about her, have met her and approve of her, no harm could come her way. Not that there was much trouble she could get into in this town anyway.
When she jumps up from the arm of the couch, my eyes land on her chest. “But first you need to put a fucking shirt on.” I stomp out of the house, fighting like hell to avoid thoughts of men looking at her. I would rather go with her so everyone knows she’s mine, but I have other shit to do.
Surprisingly, the truck cranks with no problem. It’s rusty and old, but the air works and it’s full of gas. The Prospects were trying like hell to make an impression. By the look of the manicured lawn, the fact that the pipes in the house weren’t busted and the truck was running, they were doing a pretty good job.
Saylor walks out of the house, now fully dressed. I’m sure people will still look at her, but maybe their thoughts will be a little more G-rated.
“If you take a left out of the driveway, it will take you right into town. It’s small, but it has a hardware store and a grocery store. You should be able to find whatever you need.” I pull my wallet out and hand her my credit card, wondering why men bitched about giving it to their women. What the fuck was money when it was compared to making their woman happy?
Saylor frowns and I wonder what I’ve done to fuck up. “I don’t mind using some of my own money.” I know she is just being kind, but it pisses me off.
“My house. My woman. My money.” She isn’t worried about my threatening tone or the fact that I’m trying to control my anger.
“But it was my idea and it’s only fair for me to help out. I didn’t expect you to take care of me all this time. I can help pay my own way.” Her innocence makes her ignorant. The fact that she has clearly never had a man take care of her doesn’t make the situation better either, and because of this, I should show some mercy. But I don’t.
“I don’t give a fuck about what you think is fair. You’ll spend my money or you won’t spend anything at all. Take the damn card, Saylor. You’re pissing me off.” My words seem to shock her just as much as they shock me. I’m not pissed at her. I’m pissed at the situation, but that’s not what I said. And I’ve hurt her feelings. Motherfucker. I’m such a dick.
But, instead of apologizing, I stomp inside like the asshole I am. I hear the truck crank up a few minutes later, and the urge to chase it down and tell her what a fuckup I am consumes me. By the time I get the door open, she is already at the end of the driveway. Words. They can make a day go from perfect to screwed up in a matter of seconds.
—
I ride back to the bar, wishing I wasn’t in such a shitty mood, and find Nationals in the same place as I’d seen them last night. By the looks of them, I’m sure they haven’t even been to bed. Beer bottles, ashtrays, pipes, and shot glasses cover the patio.
Two naked bitches are laid out on one of the tables, and Jimbo is getting his dick sucked by another. When I walk up, she never stops, not that I expected her to. In this town, sucking the dick of the National VP of Sinner’s Creed MC is equivalent to being crowned homecoming queen. You make the local headlines, and every bitch in the area envies you.
“Dirk.” Roach nods and I walk over and shake his hand so he doesn’t have to stand.
“Roach,” I say before yelling for a Prospect. Two appear in the door, looking just as nervous and out of place as we all did when we heard a patch holder yell for us. “Clean this shit up,” I growl, pointing to the shit that lay scattered around the patio.