ONE
PROWLER
“Sitting on your front porch, nursing a cold one with your eyes set on …” Ghoul scanned around and clicked his tongue. “On the neighbor’s place. Interesting.” Being extra observant wasn’t a bad quality in an SAA—or a mountain lion—but he damn sure hated it when someone turned those skills on him.
Prowler’s private life wasn’t for his club’s consumption unless he was taking an ol’ lady, and that wasn’t on the table and never would be.
“Fuck you.”
As far as quips went, it wasn’t eloquent, but it got the job done.
“You don’t wanna fuckme, Prez, I think you wanna fuck that sexy-ass stripper across the way …again.”
“She’s not a stripper,” Prowler snarled at the same time Bulldog spoke.
“Prez is smarter than to shit where he eats. Besides, Cassidy would tear him a new one.”
The look his vice gave him said he knew Prowler had slept with her already, he just didn’t approve. The burly bear of a vice president brought up his daughter just to judge his reaction. He knew it.
Wait, what did Ghoul say again?
How many times did his SAA know about, he wondered.
Monster pinged his gaze back and forth between Prowler and Bulldog, landing on his Prez.
“Casino floor dancer is just a family-friendly version of a stripper.” His tone was just matter-of-fact, not arrogant or judgmental.
Then Monster turned his gaze to his vice.
“Amen. Getting involved with someone who can see your house from their living room is a fast track to slashed tires, boiled bunnies, and a knife in the back as soon as you fall dick first into your next snatch.”
Fuck, he knew it too. Trying to keep a secret from a bunch of shifters was impossible.
Monster looked to Chef, the only non-shifter, but he just threw up his hands.
“I have no opinion on Prez’s personal life.” Chef replied.
Good man.
Not getting the response he wanted from Chef, their road captain swigged his beer.
He wasn’t wrong. Especially since Taylor was the one who watched his daughter when he had her, but club business or shifts kept him busy.
His brothers may know he was sleeping with her now, but did they know it had been going on for months?
He and Taylor had a regular arrangement, and thank God Cassidy was none the wiser.
When they needed an itch scratched, they scratched it. Then, depending on which bed they fell into, one of them went back to their own home as soon as the deed was done. No muss, no fuss, and most importantly, no strings.
They were on the same page about that and thank fuck, because he enjoyed her body while neither caught feelings otherthan bliss. That didn’t come along every day, so he was loath to lose it.
It was just sex, and it was convenient. They’d agreed when it no longer was, they’d stop fucking but nothing else would change. Especially since she watched Cassidy for him.
Prowler wasn’t keen on getting his dick wet with any of the girls who worked at their brothel. Community property wasn’t his thing and never would be. To say he’d never let more than one of them blow him would be a lie though.
Nor did he want to put in the effort to date anyone. Sitting around a steakhouse while making small talk just for a slim chance to get his rocks off wasn’t for him either.
Nope, a relationship with as many secrets as he had would never work, nor did he want that.
