Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 59767 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 299(@200wpm)___ 239(@250wpm)___ 199(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59767 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 299(@200wpm)___ 239(@250wpm)___ 199(@300wpm)
Today, however, I’m at the club. I’m paint-streaked and barefoot, working on a surprise mural in the main room. It’s big—really big—stretching across the longest wall. The scene is a line of riders heading down a two-lane highway, backs turned, the open road stretching into a gold-pink sunset. Each one wears a Kings of Anarchy cut—the symbol on the back identical to the ones they wear.
Cowboy walks up behind me and whistles. “Holy hell, that’s Candyman,” he says, pointing at the rider with long blond hair.
I grin. “You’re on there, too.”
“Damn, Brushes, you painted every single one of us.”
“Yeah,” I smile, proud of my work.
Cowboy calls the rest of the men in. They all seem to love it—which makes me feel even prouder. There’s a lot of laughter, and jokes about who looks better riding a bike. Griffin, however, is quiet. He’s standing behind them, his features tense, eyes fixed on me like he’s working something out in his head.
“Georgia,” he says finally, voice low but steady. “We need to talk.”
My stomach dips. He obviously doesn’t like it and the disappointment that hits me is painful. “Okay, honey. You want to go to our room?” We keep a room here—Nana kept hers too. We don’t really use them, but I make sure to keep them clean and clothes available—should the need ever arise.
Griffin shakes his head. “No. I want my brothers around me for this.”
That throws me. Every bit of warmth drains right out of me, replaced by nerves. He looks tense, too serious. Shit. I thought things were great. God … Is he breaking up with me?
“What is it?” I ask, trying to keep my panic at bay.
He takes a deep breath. “I asked you to be my old lady years ago.”
“Griff,” I say, laughing weakly. “It hasn’t been that long. We haven’t even known each other a year. Besides, I thought that’s what I was.”
“You are,” he says. “But this—” he gestures between us “—this deal doesn’t sit right with me. Things need to change.”
The air leaves my lungs. “Are you breaking up with me?” I ask, giving voice to my earlier thoughts and feeling sick to my stomach.
He glares, like what I just said is the dumbest thing he’s ever heard. “Fuck no. I told you you’re mine for life, woman, and I meant it.”
Relief hits so hard my knees almost give. “Then, what are you talking about?”
He turns his head. “Hey Alex, you pick up that package for me?” Griffin asks, ignoring me for a minute.
“Yeah, Prez,” Alex says, grinning. Alex and Ollie were patched in a few weeks ago. They haven’t been given their club names yet, but that’s coming when we have a party to celebrate them. Oddly enough Alex and I have become pretty good friends. I watch as he goes behind the bar and pulls out a large white box. It’s the kind you’d wrap clothes in for Christmas but seems overly large. He hands it to Griffin, who hands it to me, with a tender look on his face.
“Open it, baby,” Griffin murmurs.
I do as he asks, my hands shaking slightly. Inside is a leather cut—soft, heavy, and perfect. It’s just like the one Griffin wears. On the front is a patch that reads Brushes, and beneath it, Property of Grifter. The back carries the full Kings of Anarchy emblem.
My throat closes up. Tears fall from my eyes, causing everything to blur. “Griff…”
He takes it from my hands and helps me slide it on, his big hands smoothing the shoulders. “Now that’s fucking better,” he says, voice rough with pride.
I throw my arms around him. “I love you, Griffin.”
“I love you too, baby.”
He kisses me while the men are cheering and celebrating. They really are my family now. I never would have dreamed that this would be my life. I sniff, trying to laugh through the joy surrounding me. “You know Nana’s going to want one of these.”
He grins like he’s been waiting for me to say that. “Good thing I planned ahead.” He reaches back into the box and pulls out a second cut—smaller, with a patch that says Hot Nana and underneath it, Property of the Kings of Anarchy.
I burst out laughing. “It’s perfect.”
Then I look up at him, heart still racing. “I have a question for you, Griffin.”
“What’s that, sweetheart?”
“I’m wondering if you’re going to make cuts for our son or daughter when they’re born.”
His brow quirks. “You give me kids, baby, and I sure as hell will.”
I grin, so happy that I can’t hold it in anymore. “Well, you might want to get started, Griffin, because in about seven months, we’re going to need one.”
His body goes completely still. “You’re pregnant?”
I nod, smiling so hard that my cheeks hurt. “You’re going to be a daddy, Griffin.”
He sets Nana’s cut down like it’s suddenly too heavy, then scoops me clean off the floor, laughing and cursing all at once. “Jesus Christ, woman,” he growls, already carrying me toward our room. “You couldn’t tell me that before we had an audience?”