“That only adds more pressure. Thanks.”
She stared me down, swirling her margarita in her glass. The ice clinked and it was the only sound in the otherwise quiet kitchen. “It would be worth it. All the bullshit, all the ups and downs. Colt has so much inside of him, and if you choose him, the way he’s already chosen you, then he’ll never let you regret it.”
“It’s too soon.”
“Says who?”
“Says—”
“Society?” She snorted. “Over sixty percent of marriages end in divorce. And how long were those people together before they even got married?”
“Are you a proponent for marriage or against it?” I asked in wry amusement.
“I’m a proponent for happiness. For following your own path. For choosing someone who may not have been the person you thought you were going to wind up with.”
I paused and then chugged the rest of my drink. “What you’re saying makes a lot of sense. I blame tequila for that.”
She grinned, revealing the dimple in her left cheek.
I was just drunk enough to lean over and place my finger in it. “If you and Zip have babies, there’s a good chance they’ll get that dimple.”
She giggled and swatted my hand away and then reached for her buzzing cell phone on the kitchen table.
“Hospital?” I asked.
She shook her head, her sorrel brown ponytail still high on her head after her shift. Joni hadn’t gone home to change out of her puppy dog patterned scrubs before coming over. Pediatric nurse. She definitely looked the part.
“Darcy—she’s married to Gray. Have you met Gray?” When I shook my head, she went on, “Anyway. She was wondering if she could come over and hang out.”
“Oh, sure.”
“She’s bringing Rachel and Allison. Two other Old Ladies,” she explained. “They’re dying to get a look at you.”
“Why?”
“Woman, please,” Joni said with a laugh.
“I guess that means we should make another pitcher of margaritas.”
Twenty minutes later, the three of them showed up. They greeted Cheese and then tromped inside, boisterous, big-haired, heavily made-up, and tattooed. They were a lively, warm bunch and filled the silent house with their laughter and jokes.
When we were three margaritas in and everyone’s cheeks were flushed, Darcy asked, “You mean to tell me you have no tattoos? Not one?” Though she was in her forties, she had the body of a thirty-year-old.
“Nope, no tattoos,” I said. “How many do you have?”
“Five,” she answered.
“Wow.”
“They’re addictive,” Rachel added. The pretty brunette pulled up the short sleeve of her T-shirt to show me a scrawled tattoo of her man’s name, Reap.
I reached out and touched the ink. “You don’t feel…branded?”
“It’s not a one-way street, ya know,” Darcy said. “Gray has my name on his chest.”
“Yep, and Reap has my name on his…” Rachel trailed off as her face went a shade of poinsettia red.
We all laughed, but the ladies kept their attention on me.
“I think Colt would enjoy seeing his name on your butt,” Joni said.
“You do know that’s your brother you’re talking about right? And no man’s name is ever going on my butt,” I said lightly.
Joni and Darcy exchanged a look. “You should tell her how you and Gray got together. She’s a bit of a non-believer.” Joni winked.
“I’m not a non-believer,” I protested. “I just don’t understand how it’s all or nothing.”
“That’s kind of the way of the Blue Angels,” Rachel said. “They live by different rules.”
“Because they’re criminals?” I blurted out.
The four women sitting in Colt’s living room all glanced at one another. Allison appeared uncomfortable, Rachel clearly was deferring to Darcy, as did Joni with an arch of her eyebrow.
“There are things as Old Ladies that even we don’t know,” Darcy began slowly. “But what I can tell you is this; our men are strong, loyal, and fiercely protective. They provide for their families and give back to the community.”
Darcy hadn’t answered my question outright. She neither confirmed nor denied the Blue Angels were involved in criminal activity. Maybe she wouldn’t disclose any of it unless I became one of them. Maybe she genuinely didn’t know. Though I was curious, it wasn’t enough of a reason to dive all in.
“I’m sorry,” I said softly. “I didn’t mean to—I don’t know. I didn’t know how to ask that question without coming out and asking it.”
“I didn’t grow up knowing anything about bikers,” Darcy began. “Wasn’t in my sphere of knowledge, you know? I grew up sheltered. Really sheltered—and not in the good way. My friend from college took me to a party—I thought we were going to a frat thing. She surprised the hell out of me when she pulled up outside the Blue Angels clubhouse. I almost didn’t go inside, but she talked me into it. The bitch disappeared almost immediately with one of the brothers, leaving me to fend for myself.”
She smiled in fond remembrance. “A guy came up to me and offered me a beer. It was Gray and he didn’t leave my side all night. He knew I was uncomfortable. We spent the evening hanging out in his clubhouse room talking about music and our childhoods. The next morning, my friend stumbled out of a clubhouse room and we left. I never expected to see Gray again, but the next weekend he drove to Austin to see me. Stood outside my dorm building. Took me to lunch at this diner on the side of the highway that still has the best hash browns I’ve ever tasted. By the end of that year—my junior year—I became his Old Lady. My parents shit a brick when I brought him home. They threatened to cut me off if I didn’t break up with him. I knew he was the man for me, so I told them to go ahead. Gray helped pay my final year of college so I could get my degree. He not only took care of me financially, but emotionally, too. See, my parents’ love was conditional. Be the daughter they wanted and they’d continue to pay for my life. It was no life at all, really.”
“Everything in our world moves fast,” Rachel added. “It was the same with me and Reap. I chose to be with him after three weeks of dating.”
The idea of committing to Colt so soon after we’d met was still a foreign concept. And no stories from the other Old Ladies would sway me about it. I hadn’t had a lot of control in my short life. Mom died when I was young. Grammie died when I was in my early twenties. I’d been too numb to live and now I was tangled up with MC business thanks to my asshole of a boss.
I wasn’t going to settle down with some biker. The idea was ludicrous. It didn’t matter how much I liked Colt or felt like he saw a piece of me that no one else did. I would have to be crazy to choose this life…to choose danger.
It was too intense. It was too much. Colt was too much.
“We need more margaritas,” I muttered, jumping up from my seat, attempting to escape the eyes resting on me.
“I’ll make them,” Allison volunteered. The bottle blonde had been quiet, but when she took the pitcher from me, she gave me a small smile. Leaning a bit closer, she whispered, “Do what’s right for you. Whatever that looks like.”