Page 11 of Play Hard
I’d staked my ownership of her in the same but more dominant way, making it clear to every man on that campus that she was mine. Until she wasn’t.
“Daayuuum,” Lance hollered. “They look that good, huh? And you haven’t mentioned anything about having great tits along for a run with you yesterday. I wonder why.”
“Because it’s none of your business,” I shot back at him. I wasn’t wasting my time giving Traneeka answers to questions she had no business asking me.
“Ohhh, keeping your little piece a secret, huh, Noah? Well, I happen to know that she’s staying at one of the other houses by the lake. An older one that looks like it should’ve been knocked down to make room for another new build like the one I’m staying in for the summer,” Traneeka said.
“You mean the one you’ll be working at for the summer,” I added, because I wanted to irritate her enough so she would leave.
I hadn’t planned on telling anyone about Serra being in town. Hell, I’d barely told any of the brothers about her at all. And here Traneeka was with her big ass mouth in business that definitely had nothing to do with her.
Her immediate frown said she took my words exactly as I’d meant them. “Anyway,” she said. “I saw her last night speeding down the road in that shiny black Mercedes like she was on her way to somebody’s deathbed. Crying didn’t mess up her pretty ass face though.”
Before I could wrap my mind around the word “crying,” Traneeka had leaned over the bartop to wrap her fingers around my arm.
“I don’t mind company, Noah.” She bit down on her bottom lip.
“Daayuuum,” Lance’s goofy ass replied again.
“Get the fuck off of me,” I shot back at her and yanked my arm away so fast she almost tumbled her simple ass right over the bar.
Rock appeared at just the right moment, grasping her arm and easing her back until she was once again on the stool. Lance was still chuckling when Jeret yelled from the kitchen, “Yo! Delivery out back.”
“Let’s go take care of that,” Rock said, pushing me ahead of him without waiting for a response.
I didn’t speak the entire time we moved through the kitchen, down a narrow hallway and out the back door to where the navy-blue truck with the PR Express Liquor logo on the side was parked.
“What’s up, Drake?” Rock asked as he moved around me and walked to where the back of the truck was being lifted.
Drake Hughes, our account manager with PR Express extended a hand for Rock to shake. I didn’t know the other guy with Drake—the one who jumped up into the back of the truck and began moving boxes to the edge—yet I was certain that he not only worked for PR Express but was a member of the Platinum Ryders MC, just like Drake. The bike club was headquartered a couple towns over in Destine, but Drake was born here in Providence. He’d spent a year at the House before his uncle came and moved him to Destine. We didn’t learn until a few years later that the move had been Drake’s first steps to becoming a Ryder. In addition to the club’s illegal dealings, they had quite a few legit businesses, the distribution company being one of them.
“Noah, my guy,” Drake said switching his attention to me.
I shook his hand and leaned into the quick half hug we always shared when greeting each other. “What’s up, Drake. Lookin’ good, man,” I said once we broke apart and I eyed his black slacks, and white button front shirt. “You got all dressed up to come see us?” I chuckled.
“Fuck you, Mr. Hollywood. Don’t act like you weren’t sportin’ tuxes on the red carpet movie premiers barely two years ago.” Drake grinned.
He wasn’t wrong. I had been considered a Hollywood star, at least in the stunt world. But that was over. “Bet you won’t find one in my closet now,” I shot back.
“And I’ll be back to my norm as soon as we finish with this drop off and I get back home,” Drake said.
“Home to your twins, right? I heard Tracy had the babies last month.” Two of my closest friends had found love and Drake, who we all joked was our play-cousin, had two sons. What the fuck was this world coming to?
We caught up for the next few minutes while Rock and the driver double-checked our order, then we promised we’d be inDestine for Drake’s wedding in the fall. When the truck pulled off, I just stood there staring at it like a kid watching his parents leave.
“You good, man?” Rock asked with a clap of his meaty ass hand on my shoulder.
I turned to face him, biting back the urge to wince because fuck Rock wrestled on the pro circuit for ten years. He was two-seventy-five at the very least, six foot four and pure muscle. He used to be pure muscle and rage, but he’d tamped that shit down a lot over the years.
“I’m good,” I replied. “You?”
Rock stood with his feet parted and crossed his beefy arms over his broad chest. He was a good-looking dude…shit, all of the brothers looked good. Ethan and Jeret were the poster boys for how to get all the pussy based on looks alone, but the rest of us were no slouches. Rock was half Black and half Samoan on his mother’s side. After his first year on the circuit, he’d shaved his shoulder-length wavy black hair to cultivate the dominating appearance of Claw, which was his ring name. When we all came back to Providence, he’d been back to the long hair, keeping it pulled into a man-bun that Jeret and Ethan had always given him crap about. But just a couple months ago, he’d shocked us all by entering the bar with his glorious tresses shaved off once again. He’d kept the beard, which was full and too damn long if you asked me. However, it was his arms and hands that still put fear in just about every guy who walked into the bar. He looked like a fuckin’ bouncer even though he owned the place.
“I’m not the one who was about to toss a woman over the bar twenty minutes ago,” Rock said.
Shaking my head, I moved toward the boxes. “That trick was getting on my nerves. I don’t know how many times she wants me to turn down her offers and I don’t have time to figure that shit out. Plus, she needs to mind the business that pays her.”
“Wow, all that, huh? But you’re good?”
