Page 9 of Darlin'

"JP?" He lets out a charming chuckle, running his tattooed hand through his medium-length hair. "We don't know each other like that, babe. To you, I'm Jesse." He grins, flashing me a surprisingly white smile. "Just Jesse."

"Well, that's fine,Just Jesse," I state with an edge. "Quite frankly, I don't wanna call you anything. I just want my brother." I look over at the clubhouse. "He here?" I've had about enough of this gong show. Grabbing my suitcase, I storm toward the wooden doors. "Beau? Beau? You in there?"

"Woah, woah, woah." Jesse jogs up beside me, grabbing my shoulder as he spins me around. He laughs, giving his fellow bikers an incredulous look. "You can't go in there, babe." He points to an SOS patch on his leather vest. "Members only."

"I don't care if you need thepresidential sealto enter," I argue, swatting his hand away as I turn on my heel and march into the shoddy building. "I am getting what Icame here for!" The door slams behind me, and half a dozen eyes dart in my direction as I scan the various pool tables, make-shift bar, and lounge alcove. "Beau? Beau?"

"She must be fucking loony," Yeti mumbles as he and Jesse trail after me. "We might actually need to shoot her."

"I am notloony," I grunt, stomping my foot as I peer up at Jesse. "I am Savannah Kingsley, andRad, or whatever the heck you call him, is mylittle brother. Now"—I cross my arms—"go fetch him for me.” I grumble under my breath, urging my eyes not to roll, "Please."

"Well, it's nice to meet you,Savannah," Jesse says, holding out his hand as he smirks. "I'm Jesse Paxton, Vice President."

I grit my teeth together, dismissing his peace offering. "Where is my brother?"

He laughs softly, rubbing the nape of his neck. "Rad"—he smiles at me—"orBeau,asyoucall him, is out on business."

I blink. "Out on business? What does that even mean?"

"Means he's not here, babe," Jesse says, nodding at the doors. "You can come back in a week. He should be back by then."

My jaw drops. "A week? No. Call him up and tell him to come backright now." Jesse simply stares at me. "Well? Go on. Call him."

"You..." He looks around the clubhouse, brows pinched together as if he's trying to solve a complex equation. "You're fucking with me, right? Are you trying to tellmewhat to do?" He chuckles in disbelief. "Inhere?" Helooks over at Yeti. "Brother, you might be on to something."

"I'm nottryingto tell you what to do, Jesse," I state, tilting my head up high. "Iamtelling you what to do."

"Where the fuck did you find this chick?" Jesse asks Yeti, pointing his thumb at me. "Is this shit for real?"

"Fuck if I know." Yeti shrugs. "She just...popped up."

"Listen," I say, exhaling sharply. "I have come a long way from Alabama, okay? I just need?—"

"A drink," Jesse finishes my sentence. "Or a sedative," he mumbles quietly under his breath as he walks over to the little self-serve bar and leans over, grabbing a cold Budweiser. Almost skeptically, he passes the beer can to me. "Here, take a seat." He gestures to a torn-up leather seat. "Relax for a minute, yeah?"

Beer? He’s offering mebeer? At a time like this?

"I can't drink liquid bread," I whine, slumping over the bar front. "Lord help me. What is happening right now?"

"So you're from Alabama, huh?" Jesse muses, ignoring my whimpering as he cracks open the beer and takes a sip. "Interesting. A southern girl." I crane my neck toward him, one eye shut. He stifles a chuckle. "Damn, youhavecome a long way, babe. You look a little rough."

"Babe?" I roll my eyes, lethargically spinning my body around as I plop down on the stained stool. "Alright there,darlin'." Resting my arm on the counter, I swipe my finger along the thick layer of settled dust, and cringe. "Gross." I wipe my dirty fingers on Jesse's jeans, scowling at him. "There really is nothin' Southern about Southern California,is there? Y'all are in desperate need of a woman's touch."

Jesse licks his lips, letting out an amused laugh as his gaze darts to the three grungy biker chicks sitting in the corner of the clubhouse, all of 'em staring at me like I’m a dang circus act. "We got plenty of women here,darlin'."

I bat my lashes like a brat. "Really? Cause I don't see any."

“Careful, those are fighting words around here, Savannah.” Jesse smirks. "You're not in Alabama anymore. Might want to watch what you say, babe."

“Is that a threat?” I scoff. This day is turning out to be a doggone disaster. “Darlin', my granddaddy took me hunting when I waseight years old; I'm not scared of a little cat fight."

“Yeah? I’d pay to see that,” Jesse says with a grin. "What do you say? Should I call them over? I’ll give you real good odds.”

"Hilarious." After fifteen years of martial arts and gymnastics training, I could probably whoop a couple of asses, but my battery needs a recharge. I need to meditate. Or nap. Probably both. "Maybe tomorrow, okay? When I'm more rested." With a huff, I hoist myself up to my feet. "Alright, I'm pretty tired now, so if you'll get my bags and show me to my room, I would be much obliged."

"What?" Jesse frowns. "Yourroom?"

"Yes," I say, sighing. "Where might that be?" I scowl, looking around the clubhouse. "Something without a strong, foul odor would be preferable, but I think that's a big ask."

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