Page 28 of Maddox
If letting her come home instead of staying at the clubhouse alleviates that, it’s a small price to pay on my part, considering the circumstances.
Of course, I let her believe I was frustrated and angry, which to an extent I am because if she catches even a whiff of weakness, she’ll walk right over me to get what she wants.
If she were a man, she’d make one helluva a brother but she’s not and I do believe taking her place as some poor fucker’s ol’ lady is not in the cards.
Draven doesn’t listen for shit and she’s too headstrong to be someone’s property. She was born into the wrong family because in our world, women are cherished but they are not part of the brotherhood.
As a man, it’s my job to keep her safe. Her job is to do as she’s told. Yeah…so not happening.
When I found sweet little Delaney, instead of my sister in the bathroom, I knew I couldn’t resist a taste.
I was too harsh with her earlier but with everything going on, Delaney shouldn’t be anywhere near the clubhouse.
Girls like her only complicate things and I’m a simple guy. I don’t do sweet and I sure as shit don’t have time to date. The mere thought makes me shudder.
This is why I stick to the sweet butts or find a woman with mutual interests.
There’s something about Delaney that pulls me in though. Maybe it's because she looks at me with those blue-gray eyes and my dick twitches.
Don’t matter either way though because I won’t be exploring what’s between those thighs.
It’s probably for the best too. The pretty little cheerleader is too young to handle me but if she weren’t, I’d be happy to give her the ride of her life.
At the thought, my dick aches and I glance at the door where she’s sleeping just beyond the flimsy wood. Maybe I should tug one out, but the low rumble of an approaching bike reminds me that I don’t have time.
With a groan, I step into my room and grab the nearest shirt from the floor.
I’m almost never here so I’m stuck wearing shit from three years ago, but it fits, even if it has a slightly tangy odor.
Wrinkling my nose, I grab my wallet and head for the door.
One of the prospects is staying until Draven is up and then per Pops, she has to go back to the clubhouse whether she wants to or not.
It’s not my problem but I do tamp down a kernel of unease when Bran dismounts his sled and approaches.
Do I trust this man with my sister and her friend? Images of Draven cutting off his balls if he so much as touches her urge me off the porch but then I envision him hovering over Delaney while she sleeps, and I pause.
Pops trusts Bran otherwise he wouldn’t be here watching over his precious daughter, but do I?
We trusted Hand too and look where that got us.
Glancing back at the darkened house, I silently sigh and say, “Wanna drink?”
An hour later as dawn is painting the sky, Lottie and her husband Will turn down the drive. Lottie’s been cleaning the house once a week since I can remember while her husband Will tends to the yard.
Lottie was my mom’s best friend. I know I can trust this woman and her husband, a grizzly old man who knows his way around a gun and isn’t afraid to use it.
He nods as he exits the truck and moves around the side to open Lottie’s door. Her pitch-black hair now interspersed with glittery gray strands emerges from the cab and I step forward to grab the bag of cleaning products from her hand.
“Hey Lot,” I say, and she smiles, her pretty blue eyes sparkling as she leans her head against my arm.
When her spicy perfume invades my senses, I fight the urge to close my eyes.
Once upon a time, Lottie was almost a permanent fixture here.
How many times did I drag my cars out to the table so I could sit beneath their feet while they gossiped and played cards?
At the thought, Mom’s dancing dark eyes fill my vision, and I suck in a breath but the brutal ache eases when Lottie says, “Hello, my sweet boy.”
