Page 37 of Legacy

“Nice kick, Honey Bea,” I shout across the yard, and she smiles wide before returning to what she’s doing.

“You’re home early.” Reagan sets her book on the table between us.

“Perks of never actually having a schedule. Sometimes, I get an afternoon to myself.”

“I never realized how much work it is being in a motorcycle club.”

I hold back a chuckle at how sweetly she saysmotorcycle club—like half the shit we do couldn’t get uslocked up for the rest of our lives. “I’m guessing the club isn’t so much work in your books?”

She’s spent the past week working through a series with bikers on the cover, and I love that she’s left them out—not the least bit embarrassed about it after I caught her reading the first one.

Reagan grabs her glass of water, taking a sip. A drop of condensation slides a torturous path over her luscious breast before disappearing down the front of her dress. I swear this girl walked straight out of Eden and landed on my fucking doorstep.

“They don’t always focus onthe workin my books. At least, notthatkind.” She smirks.

Her insinuation is as much of a turn-on as it is a challenge.

“I’m sure they don’t.” I scratch my jaw, trying not to think about the kind of work she’s referring to. “But yeah, the club is a lot of work with the number of businesses we own. Between the stuff on the Strip and the things to do to keep the compound running, there’s always something to do.”

She glances around the property. “The compound is like its own world.”

“In lots of ways, it is.”

Our own rules, our own punishments.

“Can I ask you something?” There’s a nervous edge to her tone.

“Anything.”

“What’s an old lady?” Her cheeks heat. “Luna and Tempe keep saying it, so I’m guessing it’s a real thing then?”

I almost ask her why she didn’t ask them this question when they mentioned it, but I’m too distracted by the fact that she saved it for me. She might be wary of my life, but she trusts me to answer questions when it comes to this world—my world.

And I think I like it.

“Figured your books would have explained that for you.”

She shrugs. “In a fictional world, yes. There are old ladies, club girls, and property patches. But I guess I’m curious what they mean in the real world. What they mean to you.”

To me.

That’s a loaded question when an old lady has never meant anything to me up to this point. It was something I didn’t want, and that was that. It was something for my brothers. Not me.

“Is an old lady like a girlfriend?”

I shake my head. “They’re more than that. Like the club’s version of a wife.”

“But not in the legal sense?”

“Most guys don’t care much for titles in the legal sense.”

“Like using the name on your birth certificate,Legacy?”

Reagan only ever uses my club name when she’s teasing. Still, I like hearing it from her mouth a little too much.

“Yeah, like that.” I grin. “An old lady is a title to the club, and while that might not mean much to people outside these gates, it means everything here. It makes her a part of the club. It makes her family. Which is why you can’t just claim someone; the club has to vote on it if a brother finds someone worth asking.”

“They could tell you no?”

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