Out of the Ashes (Sons of Templar MC #3)(43)

I struggled not to open my eyes in childlike wonder. I had never seen anything like this. In saying that, it wasn’t hard to amaze me, considering I hadn’t gone out much in my thirty-three years. I had been too busy raising a child. I liked hanging out on the couch with her, rather than trolling bars and drinking overpriced drinks. I was mighty fine with ten dollar bottles of wine and the occasional night in with a girlfriend.

This party was not as wild as I had expected. The outside area was packed. It was all yellowed grass with picnic tables scattered around and one long table in the middle. Fire barrels were also scattered, unlit due to the fact it was still early. A couple of men with beers in their hands manned a grill. To my right was a big building with a wraparound porch. It stood separate from the garage bays in the distance. I guessed it was the clubhouse. There were men in leather everywhere, ranging from young, muscled and yummy to old, barreled, and decidedly yucky. And everything in between. The women were much the same. Some were what I guessed were “club girls”, scantily clad and hanging off multiple men. Others looked to be showing a bit less skin and had some enviable outfits. I exhaled when some were similar to mine. Nothing worse than going to a party and totally f*cking up the dress code. Not that I’d been to many parties.

“Here you go, darlin,’” Lucky handed me an unopened beer; then his face blanched. “Shit, you drink beer, don’t you? Not like Chardon-f*cking-nay or some shit?” he asked, sounding panicked at my potential wine drinking preference.

I laughed and patted his well-muscled arm before opening my beer. “Yes, I drink beer,” I reassured him. “Chardon-f*cking-nay is reserved for when I’m feeling real classy, or when I’m drinking with the Queen,” I teased.

He grinned.

“Mia! You made it! Hell f*cking yeah!” an excited voice exclaimed and I turned to almost collide with a sickeningly glamorous Amy. She embraced me. “Thank the f*cking Lord you’re here.” She glanced down at my hand. “And drinking!” Her eyes went up to the sky as if to thank the Almighty for my alcohol imbibing ways. She linked an arm with mine, turning us away from Lucky. She winked at him and I gave him a little finger wave. He raised his beer with a grin. I swear he mouthed good luck.

“Gwen’s got another goddamned bun in her oven, thanks to her hot husband’s crazy sperm,” she announced with a wrinkled nose. “Rosie’s not here because,” she paused, “because of some reason to do with yet another guy.” She rolled her eyes and gave me a pointed look as she sat us down at an empty table. “Lucy’s having problems with her very own macho hot guy, one she has no chance against.” She gave me another look. “That’s a story to tell after another one of these.” She raised a cocktail glass—yes, I repeat, cocktail glass in the midst of a biker party—with amber liquid in it. “And Ash and Lily are studying,” she scowled. “So my drinking buddy list is sad and depleted, then you come into town! No pregnant belly or macho man trouble to speak of.” Her eyes narrowed. “Or do you have any macho man trouble? I know you haven’t been in this burg long, but trust me, these men are fast.” Her gaze flickered over to Cade, who had his arms around Gwen. Her eyes brightened and she gave me a wave. She looked like she moved to come over, but Cade’s arms stayed around her. She glared up at him.

I couldn’t help but smile. That was until I caught who she was standing beside. Zane stood stiffly, his eyes boring a hole into me. I was tempted to see if my clothes were smoking; it was that hot of a look. Heat mixed with a heck of a lot of anger.

“Holy shit,” Amy breathed. “You totally do have macho man trouble.” Her eyes darted from Zane to me.

I quickly tore my eyes away from his. “I wouldn’t call it trouble...exactly,” I spoke slowly, unsure if I wanted to expose my sexual escapades with her. Not that I didn’t trust her. I instinctively felt this woman was going to become my friend. You know how you just have that feeling with someone? It was what I got with her and all of the women I had encountered thus far. Women that just happened to be connected to the motorcycle club the man I was f*cking was in. I didn’t want to tangle my web anymore until I knew what the heck was going on. Or until I found the willpower to stop creeping over to his house in the dead of night.

“He doesn’t seem to like me for some reason,” I continued, making eye contact, hoping my lie wasn’t obvious. “I’ve run into him a few times and I think he finds me...unfavorable.”

“Honey, that’s Bull. He’d pull his gun on a two-year-old child that dropped an ice cream on his motorcycle boot. But that stare—” Her eyes moved to him again. I chose not to move my gaze. “It’s got something else in it,” she mused, something working behind her eyes. “He’s into you,” she said finally in amazement.

I managed a snort. “Not likely,” I scoffed. “In order for a man to be ‘into you’ he must harbor some friendly feelings towards you. That man—” I pointed with my head, still not looking at him. “Does not harbor any friendly feelings towards me,” I declared with certainty. Amy sipped her drink, her brows furrowed.

“Wouldn’t be so sure, Mia,” she said quietly.





Thankfully, the talk moved on after that, though Amy still gave Zane some questionable looks. Gwen managed to extract herself from her scary but totally hot husband to join us, giving me a warm hug like I was an old friend. Before I knew it, our table was buzzing with people. Cade had sauntered over to claim Gwen onto his lap at one point, as did Brock with Amy. They chatted easily with me and were obviously deeply in love with their wives. Men stopped to shoot the shit and introduce themselves. Some were just as intimidating as they looked and others were surprisingly friendly, despite their gruff exteriors. I found myself having a good time and had drunk more beers than I intended. Gwen had told me she’d take me home, having declared she was the club’s sober driver for the next few months with a grin.