Page 130 of Preacher Man

Oh, he was going to give it to the tiny dancer the next time he saw her. She was changing him in a way he couldn’t ever fathom would happen, not for a woman, anyway, but then no woman was like Ruby. He’d put her on a pedestal and that’s where she’d stay.

His lady. Remembered sensation stroked up his spine as he’d listened to her pleasure last night, he wanted to unlock all her fantasies for her, hear more of her breathy cries. And he could do that, he wasn’t only distracting himself with sex, it wasn’t about that now, Ruby was complex, he wanted her in and out of bed, he wanted her in between stormy orgasms, he craved her voice in his ear late at night when she was more than half asleep and deliriously giggling because he’d called herbaby. He wanted her across the table while they shared a meal. None of which had anything to do with sex or how he coped with his PTSD.

She was different up there on the pedestal he’d erected for her. Preacher had the need to worship her, show her the kind of love that she’d been neglected for so long. Who in their right mind would have a woman like Ruby in their life and treat her badly? For fuck's sake were people that stupid? She was made to be treated like uncut diamonds.

Their loss. His gain. He was a pervert and she seemed to not mind at all that he was, who the fuck would take that for granted?

So, lost in his Ruby thoughts, his feet had carried him back to his bike, gripping the back of his neck working out a kink there, he caught a flash of recognizable red and black across the street, detouring, he jaywalked the quiet main street, a few people milled along the row of storefronts. His brother didn’t notice him until Preacher was almost on top of Reaper, the silent man turning a brow on him before he reached up and tugged the beanie hat drawing it further down over his ears and eyebrows.

“What’s got you loitering on a street corner, Jud, taking up a new career? You’re gonna need higher stilettos, ya dig?” He joked with a grin. The quiet man didn’t even twitch a smile but answered as he tugged on the ring through the corner of his lip. “Was gonna grab some eats.” His New Zealand accent rough around the edges like it wasn’t used to talking, and that was the literal truth of it. Preacher couldn’t say he understood the man much at all or what was going on in his head.

“You heading into the diner?”

“Was thinking about it.” His cryptic reply.

Preacher noticed how he watched the diner on the opposite corner like he expected it to sprout legs and run away. Right then, a white Ford two-door car pulled into the parking space next to his Harley, out stepped a leggy blonde with hair swinging freely down to her waist, stripes of pink throughout the strands. A time ago Preacher would have appreciated that kinda woman with a dirty glance sweeping up and down, but now he only smiled and called out when she walked near. “Hey, Paige. Hope the specials are good today.” Blondie worked at the diner and had turned their profits around in the last year or so according to the diner owner. Biscuits to die for, Preacher didn’t mind admitting his belly growled, he might have to call in later, pick food up for him and Ruby.

The woman smiled back shyly and replied. “They always are. Hello, Preacher … Reaper.” Lavender gaze darted to his club-brother before skidding away just as fast. Preacher cocked his head and caught the look Reaper was giving the woman as she continued down the street in her little peach uniform and a purse swung over her shoulder, all that hair swishing in time to her hips. The same shapely hips it looked like Reaper was noticing real damn closely.

Preacher chuckled. Maybe his mute friend had a normal brain in that beanie hat somewhere if he was taking note of a good-looking woman. For all the time he’d known Ju he’d never once seen him with a club groupie or any other woman for that matter, Preacher assumed he batted for the other team.

“Hey, Paige?” That rusty voice called out.

Oh, this would be good.

The woman stopped in her tracks, her face blank as she turned and looked directly at Reaper, who when he looked closer, Preacher saw he was using his finger to twirl that mysterious wedding band around his finger, eyes pensive locked on the diner girl.

“Yeah?”

“Are you good?”

Huh. Not bad asking a woman how she was, but it was not gonna get him laid. Preacher almost wanted to whisper for the silent bastard to smile a little, show the teeth, a hint of friendliness if he was hoping to get into diner girl’s panties.

“Oh.” Her blush went nuclear as did her smile. The kind of smile that amped up her natural beauty. “I am good, thanks for asking.” Waving her fingers, she carried on.

He heard Reaper suck in a breath before his shoulders ranged down again from up by his ears and he stopped that manic ring twirling.

Reaper had the kind of ogling going on that could penetrate through that diner girl’s work uniform and down to her skin.Damn, brother. Preacher was impressed.

“She’s cute.” Preacher prodded, hands slipped into his pockets, he wanted a smoke badly and was trying to keep busy. Maybe he should swing by the bar, pay a visit to his lady.

He remembered the break room damn well.

Reaper grunted and began walking off in the opposite direction to the diner. Preacher caught up in three easy strides. “Thought you were gonna grab some grub?” The way Reaper was glancing down the street long after the diner girl had walked inside, Preacher didn’t think he had food in mind to sink his teeth into. That look was pure sex.

“Changed my mind.”

And that was all the conversation Preacher got out of him. They each climbed onto their bikes and rode side by side back to the compound.

Later, over manly gossip and coffee Preacher filled his boss in on the day's events with the Russians, but then told him about the weird as fuck exchange with Reaper, only because it had been the first normal thing he’d seen the brother do.

"Do you realize the misfits you've collected, Rider?"

His president smirked a dark knowing smile and shook his head. Preacher went on. "You got Hawk who would kill a man for brushing against his shoulder, then there's Tex who was outcast by his own family for reasons even we don't really know, then Capone who runs from his demons and sometimes falls in a bottle, not to mention that music he listens to, fuck. Then we have Lawless, that twisted motherfucker could have Professor tenure at MIT if not for the small detail of him enjoying cutting people up. Snake..." he smirked amused, "who knows with that deviant, too many to list, but he's fucked up somewhere, gotta be."

"And you, Preach?"

"You know me and my shit already. But you still collected us all, patched us in. Anyone would think we were more trouble than we were worth, dig?”

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