Ride Steady (Chaos, #3)(39)

Even though I’d wondered, I’d also not come to any conclusions.

“So,” Tabby continued, taking my mind off these things, “first of all, biker bitches aren’t big on lots of clothes and by that I mean they show skin. But you dress however you’re comfortable. Casual, though. You might feel weird if you show up all dolled up.”

“Okay,” I agreed.

“And since Ty-Ty and Lanie are home with their kids, so the only folks you’ll know are some of the boys, who might be otherwise engaged, and me, I’ll text you when Shy and I get there so you’ll know you have someone to hang with.”

Again, super nice.

“Thanks, Tabby.”

“Don’t mention it,” she said. “Also, kinda anything goes and privacy is sometimes not an issue. Just so you know.”

“Uh… what?” I asked in confusion.

“Makin’ out, bein’ loud, groping, smokin’ pot, you name it, it could happen,” she explained. “You’re not into something, the family is what it is because everyone in it wants the freedom to be just that, so no one will push anything on you. But you should know.”

That was nice too. A little frightening, I wasn’t big on marijuana (though I’d never tried it; still, I didn’t intend to). But it was still nice.

So I again said, “Thanks,” to Tabby.

“We girls gotta look out for each other.”

That wasn’t my experience.

Nevertheless, I said, “Right.”

“Okay, I gotta go. I’ll text you when we’re there tomorrow and I’ll see you there. Yeah?”

“Yes, and thanks again.”

“No probs, babe.”

“See you later.”

“Yeah, later, Carissa.”

She hung up.

I put my phone on the counter and stared at it, feeling a variety of things.

First, I was a little afraid. A biker party would be something all new to me, and I had a feeling parts of it would be shocking, parts of it I wouldn’t like. But all of it would be Joker’s world, and I liked Joker, so I had to be brave and nonjudgmental. Things might get crazy, but my experience so far was that, surface and deep down, these people were good people. They accepted me how I was; I had to do the same.

I was also more than a little nervous. Joker would be there and, again, I liked Joker. But he seemed at odds about how he felt about me. And I’d never had to try to catch the eye of anyone. I caught Aaron’s eye when I was fourteen and that was it. It wasn’t that I was out of practice, I’d had no practice. And I liked Joker enough it meant a lot that I could beat down that shield he had up for whatever reason. I just had no idea how to go about doing that.

Further, I was a little confused. Mostly about why I barely knew this man but all of this seemed so important to me. Very important. More important than, rationally, it should be.

But last, and most, I was excited. Things had been terribly lonely since I lost Aaron. Joker’s question about when I got to live my life had hit home. I had no life. I had my son and I had my work and I had my worry about what was going to hit me next.

But I had my son. And I wasn’t teaching him anything that was good if I taught him life was narrow. If I taught him that life was about sacrifice, not about living. If I had nothing but him to make me happy, rather than just being happy all around with things to do and good friends to do them with.

So I was excited. I was excited I suddenly had places to be, things to do, and people to do them with.

And I was excited to have exciting things to think about.

Those things being Joker. How his beard felt against my skin when he was kissing me. How he tasted. How tight his arms closed around me. How I wanted to know what his hair felt like (I should have taken that shot when I had my arms around him, but his shoulders felt so lovely, I didn’t). How I wanted to know what was behind that guard he had over his eyes. How I wanted to know if he liked my pie.

And being mostly excited, for the first time in so long I couldn’t remember the last time (outside having Travis), I was happy. I had a spring in my step. I had something to look forward to.

And it felt good.

*

I felt terrible.

This was a disaster.

An utter, complete disaster.

And I wasn’t talking about the disaster that was me assuming, since it was a party, the done thing was to bring something when absolutely no one brought anything. So I’d looked like an idiot when I strolled in with two bags of LeLane’s fresh tortilla chips and a huge tub of their signature guacamole (that was handmade to order at the deli counter).

Although that was embarrassing, the chips and guac were all gone and I hadn’t even been there an hour.

“Girl, you want a fresh one?”

I turned my head from my wounded contemplation of Joker with the big-haired, tube-topped, ultra-mini-miniskirted brunette at the pool table (I just knew biker babes wore tube tops!).

Joker was not smiling and flirting. But he was still flirting. I knew it. I knew the way she sashayed around him and gave him knowing looks and rubbed up against him every chance she got and licked her lips after they’d take a shot of whatever they were shooting.

I’d been at the party for forty-five minutes. I got there after my shift, rushing home and changing clothes because Tab had texted to say she and Shy were already there, so I’d gotten there pretty late (or late for me).