“What the hell is she talking about?” Morgan asked, looking from Bailey to me.
“Nothing!” I blurted out, narrowing my eyes at the evil woman who smiled innocently.
“The club is throwing a barbeque tonight. George is required to be there. Why don’t you stop by, have a few beers and explain to Dr. Feelgood that you want a do-over.”
I sighed, knowing they were right. I had to face George eventually, and the barbeque provided the perfect opportunity.
“Fine,” I conceded. “I’ll go to the clubhouse tonight and talk to him.”
Dev and Morgan whooped and high-fived each other, already planning my outfit and speech.
I couldn’t help but smile at their enthusiasm.
“But I’m not wearing something sexy,” I added, causing their celebrations to halt momentarily. “I’ll wear something casual, and as for the speech, I’ll wing it.”
They groaned.
As evening descended, I found myself standing in front of my closet, pondering over my outfit choice. Casual could mean so many things, from jeans and a tee to a sundress. I decided on a simple, yet flattering blouse paired with comfortable jeans—an ensemble that said, “I’m here to talk,” without screaming, “I wanna ride your cock off into the sunset.”
Thinking better of it, I unbuttoned the top two buttons of my blouse. After checking my hair and makeup for the umpteenth time, I left my room only to hear my dad and Romeo whistle.
“Someone’s got a hot date!” Rome smirked, wiggling his eyebrows.
My dad winked and said, “Go get ‘em, tiger.”
Blinking, I looked up at the man and snarked, “That’s it? Go get ‘em, tiger? What about... he breaks my heart and you’ll avenge me?”
Dad shrugged, slapping Rome on the back. “I’m getting married in two weeks. Not risking a black eye ’cause you chickened out. Besides, if he breaks your heart, tell Rome. He will take care of it.”
Rolling my eyes, I grabbed my coat and muttered, “Some dad you are.”
The ride up Rosewood Mountain was beautiful at night. The stars shined brightly, and the moon glowed. While it looked to be a perfect night for a barbeque, my nerves were at an all-timehigh. I’d never been to the Sons of Hell clubhouse, and while the club had been a staple in Rosewood since the early fifties, I was going to my first ever biker celebration. I’d read plenty of stories of how bikers partied, and while I would never begrudge anyone their fun, I was a little leery.
Still, I figured how bad could it be if George was part of the club.
It wasn’t like there were constant fights and drama, right?
As I pulled up to the clubhouse, my heart was pounding in my chest. The place was buzzing with activity, the sound of music and laughter spilling out into the night. I took a deep breath and made my way toward the noise, immediately feeling out of place. Everywhere I looked tall, tattooed men and women in leather, along with some men dressed in finely tailored suits, laughed and enjoyed the crisp cool night, and I suddenly wished I’d taken Bailey’s advice and worn something sexier.
I spotted George across the yard, deep in conversation with a group of guys.
My stomach did a flip, and I felt a rush of nerves.
What if he didn’t want to talk to me?
What if he was still angry about what happened?
As I wove my way through the crowd, George looked up, and our eyes met. For a moment, I saw a flash of something in his eyes—anger, hurt?—before it was quickly replaced with a neutral expression.
“Josie,” he said, his voice carefully even. “What the hell are you doing here?”
The guys he was talking to looked at me with interest, and I felt my face flush.
“I, um, I wanted to talk to you,” I stammered.
George raised an eyebrow as a loud scream permeated the air. “GEORGIE!”
Instantly, the music died and everyone turned.
