Page 106 of Savage

“We’re at your mother’s?” I say, fidgeting with my top and attempting to get it to cover more of my breasts than it’s willing to.

Tank frowns as he watches me adjust my clothing, and says, “It’s Sunday.”

“And?”

“It’s Sunday lunch.” He shrugs, removing his helmet and placing it on the handlebars. “I never miss Sunday lunch.”

“Except for the last two Sundays that you spent trying to dry me out.” I run a hand through my hair to eradicate any kinks. I know without having to look that it’s a wasted effort. The only thing that gets rid of helmet hair is a GHD. “You didn’t think to tell me?”

“Why?”

“Because I would have chosen to wear something a little less … revealing.” I tug at my top again, and then I decide to just zip my leather jacket all the way up, so the girls aren’t on show.Oh God, do I have panties on?It seems really, really wrong to meet the mother of your … well, you should just always wear panties around old people.

“Babe, do you even own anything less revealing?”

“No, but I would have made you take me shopping for something,” I say, and pull the waistband of my jeans aside to check on the panty situation. I breathe a sigh of relief when I see the black lace staring back at me.

“And you’d have been miserable the entire time because it wouldn’t have been you.” He pulls me in against him, and I push him away.

“What are you doing?”

“Jesus, Ivy. Would you calm the fuck down, please? My mum isn’t going to shun you; she’ll love you.”

“Yeah, what’s not to love about a strung-out junkie who dresses like a whore?” I say impatiently, attempting to work the zip on my jacket higher.

Tank grabs hold of the zipper and yanks it down until my tits are practically falling out. I shove his hands away. He pouts when I zip it up so that my cleavage is covered, but it doesn’t look like I’m attempting to be a naughty nun.

He slides off the bike and takes my hand, then leads me up a cute cobble-stoned path. It’s flanked either side with bright yellow daisies. From the front porch steps, I can just see the edge of the ocean peeking through the thick underbrush and tall gum trees.

Holy shit. This house must have cost a fortune.

Tank opens the door and shouts, “Ma?”

“In the kitchen.”

I’m assaulted by the delicious smell of roasting meat and baked vegetables as Tank leads us through the house. The rooms we walk past are tastefully decorated, not at all modern, but with antique furniture that looks expensive, yet lived in. We walk into a large, open kitchen with stained-glass windows and pristine granite benches.

I hover close behind Tank and peer out from around his side, as if I’m a little kid hiding behind her mother’s legs. A woman bends over in front of the stove. Her face is turned away from me, but even from here I can see she has perfectly coifed hair, nice clothing, and an actual apron strung around her waist. She straightens, rubbing at the small of her back and letting out a cry of protest.

“You okay, Ma?”

“I’m fine, honey. Blasted back is playing …” She trails off when she sees me. She’s gorgeous, with soft blue eyes and very delicate features. She might have looked like an adorable little pixie woman when she was younger. “And who is this?” she asks. Her eyes are brimming with curiosity. “You didn’t tell me you were bringing a guest.”

“Hi,” I say, cringing because even my voice sounds crass compared to hers.Why would he bring me here? We’re not even together. His mother’s house? Really? I’ve never met anyone’s parents before. Not to mention a parent who … I don’t know, isn’t involved in club-life. He might have been right about me being uncomfortable in clothes that I wouldn’t ordinarily wear, but at least I wouldn’t look like a cheap biker whore.

What the hell was he thinking?

“Ma, this is Ivy,” Tank says, and it’s as if he’s proud of himself, or me, or something. Which just makes this so much worse. I’m not the girl you take home to your parents’ house. I’m the one you take home to fuck over the back of your parents’ couch and throw out before dawn. “Ivy, this is my ma.”

“Well, don’t just stand there, sweetheart. Let’s get a good look at you,” Tank’s mother says. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ivy. I’m Adeline.”

“Sorry to just show up unannounced,” I say, stepping out around her son.A man I’m going to take great delight in murdering when we leave here. “I promise if I’d known I would have made him call you.”

“Nonsense. There’s plenty to go around,” she says, bracing her hands on my shoulders and holding me at arm’s length to see me better. Her eyes rake over me from head to toe, and she smiles. “Well, you don’t look like you eat a lot—”

“Ma,” Tank says.

“What? She’s skinny; she’ll need some meat on her bones before she can bear me a couple of fat grandchildren.”

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