Stay Vertical (The Bare Bones MC #2)(60)

“I know,” said Ford. “I just don’t get to talk to you much. I wanted to let you know how much we’ve appreciated having you around, taking care of Fidelia so we can go out and relax. Uh-oh. Speaking of.” Ford looked over my shoulder toward the front door, his face lit up, raising his beer can. “Hey, Prospect! Get me a cold beer!”

This prompted a whole round of men raising their cans and yelling, “Prospect!”

“Another Bud!”

“We need more chips over here!”

“My ride is dirty. I need it washed!”

“There’s no toilet paper in the bathroom!”

The catcalls became grosser and baser, things like, “Yeah, the toilet’s plugged up! August had a double serving of Bobo’s chili!” and “Some hang-around puked in the back hallway, clean it up!”

Lytton bore this all stoically for the honor of being allowed to wear a cut with the Bare Bones rocker. He had decided to join his brother’s club with his sponsorship, but as predicted, he had to start at the bottom like everyone else had once upon a time. I had to admit, he looked hella smoking hot in the cut, usually wearing it over his white wifebeater. With that stylized eagle draped over his shoulder, his sleepy, dark-lined eyes, and his lush mane of hair, I’d never seen a man I wanted as much.

Another Prospect, Kneecap, got up from his table and took Lytton’s arm. “It’s okay, Driving Hawk. Today’s your old lady’s party. I’ll get them their beers.”

“And clean up the puke?” Lytton asked.

Kneecap said, “Oh, I think the puke’s fictional.”

“Says who?” quipped Ford, and everyone roared with glee, including Lytton. He really was being a good sport about the whole thing, especially for a guy whose complete title was Dr. Driving Hawk, PhD. This doctor washed brother’s bikes, fetched their coffee, and stood in line for them, and he bore it all very well. Of course, nobody really took advantage of the situation, knowing Lytton was the President’s brother, and grew the ever-popular marijuana that was making The Joint System the richest dispensary in Arizona.

Lytton reached down a hand for me. “I’d like a few minutes alone with the party girl.”

The catcalls were different now, ranging from,

“Get a wet one, Driving Hawk!” to

“Do a squeeze and a squirt!” and

“Put your tool in her shed, Lyt!” That one, of course, was Toby.

I was getting used to shit like this, though, and I knew I looked hotter than I had in months as I headed toward the back rooms, rocking my leathers. If ever there was a time to wear them, it was today, the day I got those damned arch bars off and started feeling good about myself again.

Lytton took me to one of the back rooms. I presumed this had been a patch member’s room in the old days when he told me,

“This was Ford’s little cubicle before he hooked up with your sister. Look. Corny poster.”

“Some things never change,” I said, nodding at the AC/DC poster behind some boxes of ketchup and mustard packs.

But he didn’t laugh as heavily as he could have at the embarrassing poster, so I knew something was up. This put me on the defensive, especially when he backed me up against the wall, running one forearm against it next to my head. When he covered me like this with his tall, lanky body, I always felt smaller, more feminine and helpless.

He tipped my chin up so I had to look him in the eyes. “Little June bug,” he said seriously. “I’ve been wanting to talk to you, but I know you haven’t been feeling well, with those grills all over your teeth.”

“To say the least.” I smiled widely. I liked smiling now that I wouldn’t blind him with my metallic chompers.

He brushed a butterfly kiss to my forehead. “Little one, you know that I don’t care where this road is leading, as long as I’m riding with you.”

He had said that a few times before. I figured he’d gotten it from a coffee cup. “Yes.”

“Well, I hope to f*cking hell you feel the same. Together we’re growing the best damned medicine Arizona has ever seen, and we’re not poisoning anyone with pesticides, and we’re mellowing people out, one toke at a time.”

“Oh, yes.” It was such a great feeling to once again be working for a venture I could completely get behind morally. It was just icing on the cake that it was also making us some serious Benjamins.

“I was running around with a chip on my shoulder, bitter as hell, feeling misunderstood, an outcast, a renegade, until I met you. Only now is everything coming together, making sense. Little one, now I’ve got family for the first time in my life. I had Toby and Helium Head before, but now I’ve got you, Ford, Madison, Speed, Turk, all my new brothers and sisters. I’ve got you to thank for that. I finally fit in somewhere. I’m not destined to roam the planet as some disgraced fallen rebel.”

During the last part of this lovely speech, he reached into a pocket of his cut. Blood practically curdled in my veins when I realized what he was up to.

I mean, it’s something a girl looks forward to her entire life. And I never wanted it more than I wanted it with Lytton. But it’s such a major life’s decision, such a shock to the system, such a change to the status quo. I was terrified when he took that ring box out, and I barely glanced at the chocolate diamond—framed with, as it turned out, deep rich rubies. The room started actually spinning and I think it was only later that I pieced together what he must’ve said.