Page 20 of Rocky Top

“Look,” I finally said, dragging a hand through my hair. “I ain’t good at this. But you gotta stop lookin’ at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you want me to kiss you in front of God and the whole damn club.”

She grinned, real slow. “Maybe I do.”

I took a step back as my wolf was clawing at my skin.

“I ain’t gonna hurt you,” I said, voice low. “But I might ruin you.”

And with that, I turned and walked away.

Chapter 4

Birdie

If I had any sense left in me, I would’ve stayed home with a face mask and a glass of rosé. Especially after the last time I was at the clubhouse, a week ago, when Rocky stomped off after threatening to ruin me. But Eliza texted with that cutesy schoolteacher guilt trip, complete with heart emojis and a “Just come hang out, it’ll be fun!” like I wasn’t stepping into the damn lion’s den.

The Wild Dog wasn't my usual scene. I mean, I’d been there plenty, briefly, when Eliza insisted I meet Knox’s biker family. I’d smiled, said all the polite things, and left with a racing pulse and the distinct feeling that someone might get stabbed near the pool table at any moment.

But tonight, I told myself, was different. Tonight, I wasn’t coming for my friend.

I was coming for him.

Not that I’d admit that out loud.

I pulled into the gravel lot wearing the only leather jacket I owned, pink and cropped. Hadn’t worn it since college. Smelled like discount vanilla body spray and regret as climbed out of my shiny Camary. The bass inside the clubhouse was already rattling the windows, and laughter rolled out like fog from the front doors. I hesitated, smoothing my hair and checking my reflection in the rearview mirror like some nervous date.

Eliza met me at the door with a grin and a drink already in hand. “You came!”

“Don’t sound so surprised,” I smirked, accepting the drink and hugging her. She smelled like grease and bourbon, Knox’s signature combo, and I couldn’t help but feel that warm ache in my chest. She was glowing lately, happier than I’d ever seen her. Love looked mighty fine on her.

“What’s in this?” I asked, sipping the drink. It burned like bad decisions and promises I probably wouldn’t keep.

“Don’t ask,” she said with a wink. “I told them something fruity, so who knows. But I tasted it. It’s good. Come on, sit with me. I want you to meet some of the girls.”

The next half hour was a blur of introductions. Women with names like Cinnamon and Sparrow. All beautiful, all sharp-tongued and fierce in a way that made me feel like a kitten in a lion pride. I laughed when they laughed. I sipped when they sipped. But my eyes? They wandered.

To him.

Rocky stood across the room like sin dipped in ink, tattoos scrambling up his arms, a cut stretched over broad shoulders, and those dark eyes scanning the room like he was hunting something. Or someone. He hadn’t looked at me once, but I felt him. Like a current under my skin.

He was talking to another club member. Bandit, I think his name was, and from the tense body language and clipped tones, it wasn’t a friendly chat. A second later, Rocky shoved the guy. Hard.Chairs scraped back. Someone cursed. I straightened, adrenaline flooding me as I instinctively took a step forward.

The guy swung, wild and sloppy.

Rocky ducked it and slammed his fist into the guy’s gut like he was knocking on a goddamn door. The man doubled over. The room erupted into shouts, but no one stopped them. They just watched. Like it was entertainment.

“Holy hell,” I breathed.

“Should we do something?” I asked Eliza, who was still sipping her drink like this was just Tuesday night.

“That is something,” she said, nodding toward Rocky.

He caught me watching then.

And it wasn’t a glance.

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