Undeniable (Undeniable, #1)(2)

I swiveled around and was met with a pair of denim-clad legs with the knees worn clean through. I looked up, and my eyes widened in delight. He was tall and tan. His arms and legs were thickly muscled, and his waist was trim. His forehead was wide, and his jaw was strong and square. His head was shaved, only a fuzz of blond hair showing, and his forearms were heavily tattooed with different depictions of elaborate dragons. I’d never seen a more beautiful man.

There are three different types of men in this world: There are weak men—men who run and hide when life slaps them in the ass. Then there are men—men who have a backbone, yet occasionally, when life slaps them in the ass, will rely on others. And then there are real men—men who don’t cry or complain, who don’t just have a backbone, they are the backbone. Men who make their own decisions and live with the consequences and who accept responsibility for their actions or words. Men who, when life slaps them in the ass, slap back and move on. Men who live hard and die even harder.

Men like my father and my uncles. Men I loved with all my heart.

Men like Deuce.

“I like Hendrix,” I said. “But Janis rules. I listen to ‘Rose’ almost every single day!”

He grinned down at me and dimples popped out all over the place.

“I like you, kid,” he said, still grinning. “You got good taste in tunes, and you’ve got a pair of Chucks on instead of those stupid f*ckin’ high-tops everyone’s wearin’.”

He liked me. This was hands down the best day ever.

“I hate high-tops,” I said, wrinkling up my nose.

He winked. “Me, too.”

I was so throwing out all my high-tops when I got home.

When it was my turn in line, I stood on my tiptoes and popped change into the machine. I took my time studying the selections, deciding on a small bag of salted peanuts. Moving out of the way, I watched as the man bought two bags of potato chips, three candy bars, and a big chocolate chip cookie.

“Wow,” I said. “You’re really hungry.”

He laughed. “Not for me.” He pointed across the room. “My old man.”

I spared a quick glance at my father and Uncle Joe. Their heads were bowed over the table, still “having a word.”

“Can I meet him?” I asked.

His eyebrows popped up. “Uh, he’s kinda cranky.”

I laughed. All the men I knew were kinda cranky.

I slipped my hand in his and looked up, ready to go meet his father. His hand was warm and comfortable, like my bed was after I’d slept in it all night.

He stared down at our joined hands, his expression confused.

“Ready,” I told him, tugging on his hand. Shrugging, he led me to a nearby table where an older man with a long gray beard and a shaved head sat, cuffed the same way my father was. He released my hand to take his seat, and I climbed into the seat next to him.

“Hi,” I said cheerfully.

“You got somethin’ to tell me?” the old man asked his son.

“She likes Janis,” he replied.

The old man studied me. “You like Janis, kid?”

I nodded. “And Steppenwolf and Three Dog Night and the Rolling Stones and Billie Holiday—”

“Billie Holiday?” he interrupted, sounding surprised.

I popped some peanuts in my mouth and nodded. “She rules.”

The old man grinned and his entire face changed. I knew immediately; a long time ago, this cranky old man had been as beautiful as his son.

“I like Billie Holiday,” he said gruffly.

“I like you,” I said spontaneously because I always said stuff spontaneously. “Do you want some peanuts?”

“Sure, kid,” he said, smiling. “I’d love some.”

I poured the rest of my peanuts into his hand, and he popped them all into his mouth at the same time.

“Eva!”

I jumped at the sound of my uncle Joe’s voice. He was walking briskly across the room toward me. Once he reached the table, not only did Uncle Joe looked pissed off, but so did my two new friends.

“You got a death wish?” Uncle Joe whispered to the old man. “Horsemen are in good with the Demons. Let’s f*ckin’ keep it that way.”

“Ah,” the old man said, looking back at me. “You must be Preacher’s little girl. He’s talked ’bout you. Proud as f*ck, he is.”

I nodded proudly. “I am Preacher’s little girl. And I’m gonna be just like him when I grow up. I’m gonna have a Fat Boy, but I want mine to be sparkly, and I want a pink helmet with skulls on it. And instead of being the club president, I’m gonna be the club queen ’cause I’m gonna marry the biggest, scariest biker in the whole world, and he’s gonna let me do whatever I want because he’s gonna love me like crazy.”

My uncle Joe burst out laughing, and the old man shook his head, smiling. The beautiful man turned to face me and leaned forward.

“I’m gonna hold you to that,” he whispered.

I didn’t respond. I couldn’t. I was captivated by the intensity I saw in his bright blue-and-white-flecked eyes. They reminded me of a frosted-over lake. He had beautiful icy blue eyes that sucked me in to a warm, safe place that I wanted to stay inside of forever.

He stuck out his hand, breaking the spell. “Name’s Deuce, sweetheart. My old man here is Reaper. It was nice talkin’ with ya.”