“Dex?” I whisper, then start to kiss him again, effectively shutting him up.
Maybe I do miss him calling me fairy, although I like babe too.
He can call me anything he wants, as long as he keeps loving me like this. Dex tracking me down and bringing me back to his clubhouse was the best thing that ever happened to me.
FOUR
Faye
I SLIDE Arrow the glass of Scotch and watch as he takes a sip. “How’s everything?”
“Good,” he replies, nodding his head. He’s about to say something further, when Irish walks in and sits down next to him. I pour him a glass too.
“What the fuck are we going to do about this?” Irish asks me, his accent more pronounced than usual, meaning he’s seriously worried.
“What do you mean ‘we’?” I ask him with a raised brow. “I think you should tell Tina the truth. Do you know how much it would hurt to find out that everyone knew except her?”
“Trust me, brother,” Arrow says, grimacing. “Tell her the fuckin’ truth before she hears it from someone else.”
Irish runs a hand through his dark hair in frustration. “She’s gonna be so fuckin’ pissed I lied to her. Why can’t she just let it go?”
“Because she’s a woman.” I grin, putting the cap back on the bottle of Scotch. “Just tell her, Irish. She’ll be pissed, yes, and you’ll need to do some explaining and some apologizing, but she’ll get over it. Just let her rage first.”
“Rage?” he asks, eyes going wide. “I’m gonna lock her ass up so she can’t run off.”
I roll my eyes at him, but honestly, I think that’s probably a good idea. Bad shit happens every time one of the women gets angry and runs off. Take Anna for example. She got angry at Arrow once and left the clubhouse, only to be kidnapped by Talon. Though we didn’t know him at the time.
“Just explain you were trying to protect her and admit that you should have told her.” I pause, then add, “And that you regret it, and that you’re sorry.”
His tightened lips tell me he doesn’t like that, but too damn bad.
“Let go of your pride, Irish, if you want to keep your woman.”
That seems to sober him up.
Ronan then walks into the kitchen and joins us at the table. “I need advice on what to do with Steph. She’s pulling back but I don’t fuckin’ know why. Why are women such pains in the ass? We need to bring back the old days when we could just club them over the head and bring them home as ours.”
“You can still do that,” Arrow says, keeping a straight face. “It’s just a little frowned upon.”
“A little?” I ask, eyes going wide as saucers. “Assault and kidnapping?”
“Faye, concentrate,” Ronan groans, drinking straight from the bottle of Scotch.
“Were you raised in a barn?” I ask, grabbing the bottle back from him and wiping the top off.
Tracker storms in then, looking good, his man bun on point. “I have a huge problem. Faye, I need you, like, now.”
I groan, covering my face with my hands. “Irish—tell Tina the truth. Ronan—speak to Steph and ask her what’s going on in her head. Arrow—let’s talk just us two at some point today, because I know something is on your mind. And, Tracker . . .” I stand up and approach him. “What do you need?”
“A female bodyguard.”
He doesn’t explain any further, and I don’t ask. He can enlighten me in the car on the way. “Let’s go.”
I honestly don’t know how I became the person everyone comes to for advice and help. Me. I wing it and make light of everything, and have no clue how to navigate through life, but at least I never give up.
Maybe that’s why they come to me.
“This isn’t what I had in mind,” I admit, as I glance around Lana’s book signing. “You brought me here to protect you from fangirls? You need to get over yourself, Tracker.”
“They all fuckin’ rush at me and touch my abs,” he complains, looking down at me. “I need a woman to protect me. Lana is busy signing, and you’re badass enough to take on all these women.”
“I’m not going to hurt Lana’s readers,” I say, amusement filling me. “You never should have posed for the cover of that damn book, then none of this would be an issue.”
“I’d still come to support Lana,” he says. “So they’d still be all over me.”
He clearly has no issues with his ego.
“Stop pretending you don’t love it.”
“Don’t love the ones who try to grab my dick,” he grumbles, shoulders hunching. “It’s a very awkward situation.”
I bark out a laugh. “They grab your dick? Don’t lie. As if any woman would do that. You’re exaggerating. Come on, I want to see what they do to you.”
“You want to see random women swarm me? You’re supposed to be here to protect me.”
“You’ll be fine. Soak up the attention, Tracker. Put those pretty-boy looks to good use. Help promote your woman and break the stereotype that most bikers are old, with beer bellies.”
I spot an author I really like signing near Lana, selling books. “I’m going to get some books signed.”
I walk away, leaving Tracker standing behind me, jaw dropped. Surely he can manage alone for a few minutes. I end up chatting with a few amazing readers, and a few authors too. When I look over an hour later and see about ten women around him, I realize that, no, he probably can’t manage alone. Lana waves when she sees me pass her table, so I walk over to her. She’s been busy since I arrived, but now things are starting to die down a little.