“She can repay us by being our lawyer when she’s out. We all know that Jenkins is getting older. He’s even been talking about retiring in a few years.” Jenkins was the club’s lawyer. If one of us got into trouble he was the one that represented us. If we needed legal advice, or someone to draw up legal shit, he was just a phone call away. He was a damn good lawyer, kept us out of jail as much as possible and we paid him well.
“So, what do you think?” I asked them. All I needed was their okay so I could start trying to convince Gracie that this was a great idea. She could continue to work at Uncle Jack’s around her class schedule so she could have her independence since that was so important to her, but she wouldn’t be working herself to death at two damn jobs.
After a long pause, Bash nodded his head. “Yeah, I like that idea. We can trust Gracie. She’s smart, and while she’s working Jenkins can show her the ropes, teach her his trade secrets.” He grinned, seeming to warm to the idea more and more by the second. “I’ll even get him to offer her a job. She can help run the office or something. It will help with school.”
Jack grinned. “Yeah, boy. Smart idea. Now, how are you going to get her to take us up on the offer?”
I grimaced—that was the hard part. Gracie was going to think that I was behind all of this, and it wouldn’t be a lie. I was going to put a lot of the money up for it. It wasn’t like I didn’t have it to spare. I had no rent, no big bills to pay, and our runs paid extremely well, not to mention the money I got from my share of the bar. I could pay for her tuition and anything else she could ever want.
Bash emptied his beer and tossed the bottle in the big trashcan behind me. “I know exactly how to get her to agree: Jenkins. He can tell her that he wants to sponsor her or some shit. That he needs a reliable replacement for when he retires and the university recommended several possibilities. Her name was at the top of the list. She gets her tuition paid, a job where she can learn what we need her to know for later on down the road, and has money coming in for whatever else she needs. Problem solved.”
“Fuck, you brilliant bastard.” I punched him in the arm, a new lightness filling my chest. If this worked I wouldn’t have to worry about Gracie working herself to death. “So why hasn’t your smart ass asked Raven to marry you yet?”
Lightning flashed at me from my club president’s eyes, letting me know that my question struck a nerve. “I have my reasons. Don’t rush it, brother. I’ll wife her, stop busting my balls about it.”
I wasn’t the only one to ask him about marrying my sister. Spider had asked more than once, and I know Colt and Raider had been bitching at him about it. I wasn’t worried about it. I knew he loved Raven, and he probably had his reasons for waiting. I suspected that it had something to do with Jet, but I wasn’t going to open my mouth about it anymore than I already had.
“Church is going to start in a few. I’ll call Jenkins as soon as it’s over,” Bash assured me. “I’ll get Raven to set up an account just for Gracie. Make sure she doesn’t know where the money is coming from.”
Church passed quickly. Everything was quiet for the moment. With the exception of a few protection runs that would be taken care of over the next week there wasn’t much going on. Even Samson was lying low for the time being, which only made me anxious for his next move.
The biggest thing we had to talk about was Jet’s coming home party in three weeks. My brother was getting out on parole and we needed to welcome him back like the hero he was. We’d have it here at the bar, and then we could move it to the clubhouse later on so that my brother could take care of some pussy business. Raider had talked to all of the sheep and they were going to make sure that my brother had a “welcome home” that he will definitely remember.
After church let out half the guys left, while the others stuck around to get shitfaced. I called it a night when Willa came in to work at eight. Between her and my younger brothers they had the place covered. I wanted to get home and crawl into bed with Gracie.
Her head wasn’t hurting anymore and Doc said she could leave our bedroom tomorrow. I was sure that he’d only made her stay in bed so long because he knew she was so stubborn that she would want to go back to work as soon as he gave her the okay to get up. For that I was thankful for the old fucker.
At home I grabbed a beer from the fridge and walked through the house. Raven was stretched out on the couch with Lexa sitting on the floor in front of her. They were watching some kind of animated movie on Netflix that had Lexa’s full attention. As I passed, Raven nodded her head in greeting but didn’t do anything else. Probably scared she would distract Lexa.
I grinned and stood at the bottom of the steps for a long moment to watch them. My sister had never been the maternal type until that little girl dropped into our lives. She’d taken to motherhood like a duck to water. She was a natural at it. Lexa adored her and I knew that the baby she was carrying would too. Shaking my head, I climbed the stairs and went to my room.
It was still early, barely after nine. When I opened the door Gracie was stretched out across the bed, the remote to the flat screen on the opposite wall in her hand as she flipped through channels. I leaned against the doorframe while she glared at the television, her mouth pressed in a hard line. I could tell she was bored out of her mind.
Just watching her like this messed with my head and my chest, not to mention my dick. Looking at her filled me with a mixture of peace, love, and need so strong it was a wonder I didn’t have a permanent imprint of my zipper on the shaft of my cock. I wanted to lie down beside her and just hold her.
That was exactly what we’d done all week, even though I’d wanted to do a lot fucking more. Since that first damn kiss I’d found it nearly impossible to keep my hands and lips to myself, but I had. For the most part. A kiss here and there, a peck on the lips or a brush of her lips over some random part of my body had kept me on the verge of insanity for days. I’d learned that I love her lips on me.
Just wished those butterfly soft kisses would travel to other parts of my body. Like my chest, or better yet, my aching dick.
“Want to watch a movie with me?” she asked without taking her eyes off the screen.
I tried not to make a face. “Is it a chick flick?” I’ve watched more in the last week than I have in my entire life. Okay, fuck. So I’d never watched a chick flick before this week, but damn the ten I’ve watched this week alone should absolve me of all my past sins plus make me eligible for sainthood.
She snickered. “It’s a comedy.”
“That doesn’t answer my question, baby. A comedy can still qualify as a chick flick.” Something I’d learned all too quickly when I’d gotten conned into watching The Proposal Sunday night. Sure, that old bitch Betty White had made me laugh, but that shit had been a pure chick flick.
Aged-bourbon-colored eyes rolled and she sat up in the middle of the bed. “Okay, fine. I’ll give you two options. Two Weeks Notice is on. It’s funny and has Sandra Bullock in it. It’s a favorite of mine.” So was The Proposal and Blindside. Both had Sandra Bullock in them, too. It was a safe bet that my female liked that particular actress a good bit. I had no problem with the chick, just that the majority of her movies were fucking chick flicks.
“Pass. What’s the second option?” I moved into the room, shutting and locking the door behind me.
A blush filled Gracie’s cheeks and she turned her full attention to the television. “Nine and a Half Weeks is also on. I’m a big fan of Mickey Rourke.”
I sucked in a deep breath as my dick went rock hard. Fuck. Ah, fucking fuck. My girl wanted me to sit and watch the equivalent of soft-core porn with her? Fuck. Was she trying to drive me over the edge? Because that was what would definitely fucking happen if I had to sit through that particular movie.
A man could only be expected to have so much willpower, damn it. I was holding onto mine by my fingernails, and my hold was quickly slipping.
“Those my only choices?” I was able to get the question out in a voice gruff with suppressed need.