Page 17 of Rocky Top

She tilted her head, smirkin’. “No. I wanted to see the infamous Wild Dog for myself. So far, it’s givin’ me Sons of Anarchy meets Smoky Mountain moonshine vibes.”

“Whatever that means.” I poured her a whiskey neat before she could ask for anything frilly again. “Here. Try actin’ like you’re in a bar, not a brunch spot.”

She took the glass, held my gaze, and sipped like a damn professional. “You always this grumpy, or just with me?”

“Sunshine,” I said, the nickname slipping out before I could stop it. “If I smiled at you, I might combust.”

Her lips parted, then curved into a grin that damn near undid me. “Well, now I’m determined to make you.”

And that was the moment.

That flash in her eye.

That laugh like sunshine and dynamite.

I knew. She was chaos dressed in sequins, and I was already too far gone.

Birdie dressed like she was always on stage, glittery tops, bright lipstick, nails sharp enough to draw blood. She wasn’t just pretty, She wasextra. Loud, dramatic, full of fire and color like a firework you weren’t supposed to light indoors.

The kinda woman who’d never evenlookedat someone like me twice. Not really.

But she was too soft for my world.

Then I saw her that night in the woods and everything changed.

She was sittin’ by the fire in leggings and a big-ass hoodie, hair up in one of those messy buns like she’d just rolled outta bed. And fuck me if that didn’t short out somethin’ in my brain. More like my jeans. No flashy sunglasses. No wild ass hat. Just Birdie, raw and natural, tucked into the wilderness like she belonged there.

I damn near forgot how to breathe.

She had looked smaller, softer somehow, outta her usual armor from a catalogue. She still had that glow. Don’t get me wrong. But it was different. Realer. Like she was finally at rest. And that messed with me more than it should’ve.

What other sides she was keepin’ tucked away?

I couldn’t stop thinkin’ about it. ‘Bout her. The contrast of that wild spirit wrapped up in glamor, now stripped down in the dark woods with only moonlight and pine shadows for company.

Birdie wasn’t like the women hangin’ ‘round the clubhouse. She didn’t want nothin’ from me. Didn’t play games. And even when she strutted through my world like she was just passin’ through, she had this way ofsticking, like a song you couldn’t get out of your head, no matter how hard you tried.

That night out in the forest, I realized somethin’ dangerous.

She wasn’t just beautiful.

She wasinterestin’.

And interestin’ could get a man like me killed. Or worse...claimed.

I needed air, needed quiet. But mostly, I needed my brother.

Knox was out back by the firepit, leanin’ against the fence like the world was sittin’ heavy on his shoulders. Prez understood that kinda weight more than anyone. He looked up when I stepped outside, shadows playin’ across the sharp lines of his jaw, his cigarette glowing like a slow-burnin’ fuse.

“You look like hell, brother,” he said.

“Feel worse,” I muttered, scrubbing a hand through my hair. The wind was shiftin’. I could smell the honeysuckle in Birdie’s damn shampoo lingering on my cut like it was tattooed in my leather. “I need to talk.”

Knox flicked ash into the dirt. “Shoot.”

I stepped closer, dropping my voice even though nobody else was out there. “It’s Birdie.”

Knox straightened just slightly, jaw twitchin’ like he knew where this was headin’.

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