Page 21 of Priest
“Never better.” Her eyes are warm and soft.
* * *
Quinn
Ishouldn’t be nervous. After all, I’ve met most of his club brothers and many of their wives and girlfriends. They all seemed like nice people. So why am I agonizing over what to wear to a barbecue? This is utterly ridiculous. I’ve never cared before what anyone thought of me, and especially not of the way I dress. I’m not going to start now.
I put on boyfriend jeans and a capped-sleeve, button-down, deep purple shirt and slingback cream sandals. Done. Then mascara, natural tones of eyeshadow, and pearly pink lip gloss. Done.
I do this all the while chatting with Bethany on the phone, who is being pampered like a queen on her throne by her fiancé. Frankie is going a little over the top, and I think Bethany’s about to lose it on him.
“I get that he’s looking out for me, but for Pete’s sake, I can butter my own toast,” she exclaims. “And I’m going a little stir-crazy. Last night, I said we should go for a walk and get out of the house for a while, and Frankie looked like he was going to pass out. Honestly, accidents happen. Could it have been worse? Yes, but it wasn’t,” she rants. I know Bethany well enough to understand that she needs to get it all out. Eventually, she wears herself out, and I remind her of how sweet it is to have someone love you. She settles down. “I know what you’re going to say.”
“You do? When did you become a mind reader?” I tease.
“Very funny. I’m falling on the floor laughing over here,” she chides. “Are you going to spill about you and hunky biker boy or what?”
That’s my Bethany, always getting right to the point. “We’re just getting to know one another,” I say casually.
“Puuulease,” she drawls. “Who are you kidding? I have it on good authority that you two have already shacked up. He brought you home from the hospital and hasn’t left since. He even had his crew bring him his clothes, so he didn’t have to leave you. Is he holding you hostage? Cough once for yes, and twice for no.” Bethany’s hysterical. I laugh out loud. Suddenly, the phone goes quiet.
“Bethany?”
“It’s good to hear you laugh like that.”
“I laugh,” I tell her.
“Yeah, you do. But not like that. Lately, you’ve been so engrossed with building your business and finding clients that even when you were with me, you were only partly there. I get that being successful is important to you. But it’s good to have balance too. I still need to meet this miraculous man who’s been able to grab your attention the way he has, but I have a feeling I’m going to love him.”
“You’re getting cheesy,” I respond, a lump forming in my throat. Bethany’s always had my back. Even when everyone thought I was crazy for going out on my own and contracting, giving up a perfectly stable and well-paying job, she stood by me and told me to follow my dream.
It’s not that the work is different. It’s the lifestyle that works for me. If I want to take a break and go for a walk in the park, I can. If I decide not to work with a particular project for whatever reason, then I get to make that choice. I also get to take on assignments that mean something to me. Lately, environmental development and eco-friendly change management seem to be my passion, and I can go after those companies whose values align with my own.
“Yeah, maybe. And just so you know, I wrangled us an invitation to the barbecue today,” she says.
“How did you manage that?” Bethany can do anything she sets her mind to, but an invitation to the Pride barbecue is pretty special from what I hear. Usually, outsiders aren’t invited.
“Demon was here, and I told him that Priest was holding my best friend hostage and I needed to make sure she was okay.” She giggles. “Not a half hour later, Frankie got a call.”
“You’re nutty, you know that, right?”
“Abso-freaking-lutely! And you love me for it.”
Priest appears in the doorway, his white T-shirt that clings to his abs and chest, emphasizing the size of his biceps, dark jeans and motorcycle boots, with his leather jacket slung over one shoulder.
“Babe, we’re going to be late. Tell me you’re not one of those women where I have to change the time of an event to an hour before it starts to get us there on time,” he says with a grin.
I think I’m drooling because he’s so yummy. Forget the club, I want to stay home.
“Is that him? Ooooh, he sounds sexy. Is he sexy?” Bethany chirps in my ear.
“He is,” I tell her. I pull myself together and say, “Got to go. See you there.”
“Damn straight.” The phone clicks off, but I’m still staring at my man.
“You keep looking at me like that and we’re going to miss this shindig, and from what I hear, your girl”—he points to the phone still at my ear—“is going to lose her mind.” When I still don’t move, he grabs my hand and leads me out of the bathroom, out of the bedroom, and toward the front door. “Got your purse and shit?” he asks.
I come out of my sexy-Priest coma and grab my bag, happy to be holding his hand as we walk to his car.
