Page 55 of Love is Blind

Emmy leans into me and whispers, “Biker lingo for meeting.”

“Ah, gotcha.” Then I plaster a smile on my face and address Ghost. “You do the church thing and Lucy and I will hang tight.”

“Sounds good.”

Then he disappears and by the sound of things, so do the rest of the guys. Emmy hooks her arm through mine and helps me to the bar.

“You’re keeping the dog?”

“It seems that way, doesn’t it?”

It also seems like I might have to come clean about my past. If I’m going to insert myself into his life, then he has the right to know I’ve got a crazy drug dealer after me. A sickening feeling fills the pit of my stomach—on second thought, what he doesn’t know, won’t kill him. Or kill Em for that matter too.

I set my cane on top of the bar and release Lucy’s harness as I slide onto one of the stools. “Can you fix me a drink? None of that fruit punch shit.”

“I don’t work here, Birdie.”

“You should really broaden your horizons, Em. There’s probably a lot of money to be made as a traveling bartender.”

“Not when my only customer is my cousin and she’s got a tendency to stiff me on her tab.”

Touche.

Chapter Thirteen

Ghost

I drummy fingers against the table and stare at the closed door. Knowing Birdie is out there waiting for me is making me antsy as fuck. When Ink and Hawk didn’t call, I thought things went well, that Birdie accepted the dog with no problem. Then she walked into my clubhouse, dressed like she is—in those tight as fuck jeans and a low-cut tee that exposes just enough cleavage. My mouth instantly began to water.

The dog is a cute accessory too.

Maverick slams the gavel down, drawing my attention away from the door. I push any thought of Birdie to the back of my head and watch as he carefully sets the gavel down on the sound block.

That ain’t our gavel.

“What the fuck is that?” I ask, lifting my gaze to his. “Where’s the old gavel?”

He lifts the wooden masterpiece that’s been carved to replicate a v-twin engine and smooths a hand over the leather tassels dangling from the handle.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

It’s definitely a work of art, but that doesn’t answer my question.

“Holly got it for me. I told her about Wolf’s mallet, and she said I had gavel envy.”

Oh, for fuck’s sake. The man has been hanging around those New Yorkers too much. It won’t be long before he’s carrying a loaf of Italian bread under his arm.

“That had to have cost her a mint,” Ink interjects, his eyebrows pinching together. “Wolf’s mallet was ten bucks at the home store.”

“Who’s winning now?” Maverick quips.

He gently sets the gavel onto the table and leans back in his chair. His eyes dart around the room, pausing at Wiz’s empty chair then cut back to me.

“Where is he?”

Glancing at the empty seat, I swipe a hand over my beard.

“I sent him to Charlotte.”

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