Page 6 of Clint & Ivy
Neither would ever happen in the Little Memphis club. That’s why I made my move, snapping up members from the Little Memphis club, along with people from our allies—Rawlins Heretics Motorcycle Club and Everything Nice Crew. By the time Tricky stepped in for his busted-up dad, I’d laid the groundwork to become his equal.
Little Memphis and the entire state of Arkansas had a new power broker to reckon with. I never doubted I’d end up with what I wanted. My sister claimed “audacious” was a good look on me.
“Things work out for me,” I told Ivy and took her hand. “You don’t know how the world works. Let me show you how to get what you want.”
Ivy stared at me with the same skeptical awe worn by my parents after I told them I’d built my club over a long Memorial Day weekend.
Like with Ford and Shay, Ivy seemed to recognize I knew how to get things done. The corners of her lips flipped upward, leaving her with a soft smile.
“Let’s get back on the road and to my place. We’ll figure out our next steps there.”
After I helped Ivy onto the back of my bike, she slid her arms confidently around me. Her body soon moved with the motorcycle’s motions as we left the gas station and raced toward the only place I’d ever want to call home.
IVY
The wild child in merejoiced at my current situation. I was riding a motorcycle! My arms were wrapped around the most handsome man I’d ever seen! I was heading toward a fresh start!
Best of all, when I told Clint how I wanted to keep my family photos, he didn’t dismiss my needs. No one ever listened to me. Not even the nannies, who feared my mom’s mood swings more than my requests.
Clint was a biker in a motorcycle club. A part of me feared what that might mean for my future. Would he hurt me? Sell me like Uncle Linus?
Something about Clint’s demeanor promised I’d be safe. I knew there was no rational reason to trust him. I’d never put my instincts to the test, but I still felt deep inside how he wouldn’t hurt me.
Holding onto his strong body, I enjoyed the scent coming off his leather jacket wrapped around me. My hair whipped in the strong breeze while my skirt flapped hard against my thighs. I ought to be terrified of falling off the motorcycle. Instead, I molded my body to Clint’s and learned to move with the bike.
The rumble of the motorcycle left me feeling strange, almost detached from myself. Since I was a kid, I imagined many fun adventures starring a better version of me.
Now, I found myself in an actual fun adventure. The Ivy holding onto a sexy stranger needed to be fearless. She ached to be wild and sexy.Why couldn’t I be the Ivy who existed in my head instead of the one I wore on the outside for most of my life?
My heart began to race as we took the Blairsville exit. This place was Clint’s home. If I were lucky enough to remain close to him, Blairsville would become my safe space.
I quickly noticed how the town was a mix of new and old. One block felt ripped out of an old magazine, with quaint red brick buildings and shops with large green awnings.
A block later, we passed several newer subdivisions with boxy homes covered in innocuous siding.
As we moved deeper into town, I noticed Clint gesturing at people. There was an older man on the street while we sat at a light. We passed several younger motorcycle riders—two men and three women—who gave him the bird.
