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I’m sure they haven’t done it yet, but who knows?

Tasha used to tell me everything. Before Brad.

And you’re just itching to spill your guts to her about your mega crush on her dad?

That’s different.

But I know it isn’t.

If Tasha knew, hell. If Slade knew exactly how I felt and how long I’ve felt like this?

The thought makes me shiver and I play along with Tasha’s conversation as she says her sorry not sorry goodbyes.

“Have a wonderful birthday, Dad,” she tells Slade, planting a wet kiss on his cheek as his eyes turn to find mine.

I feel my face flush, but not just because he’s looking at me.

I actually feel jealous that Tasha gets to climb all over him, kiss him even.

It’s stupid I know.

Childish and bratty.

But a part of me already wants Slade to be mine.

All mine.

Not even any spare for Tasha or anybody else.

Especially smelly bikers too. And not just for today, but forever.

“Abs?” Tasha asks, stepping in front of me to get my attention, I zoned out thinking she’d already left.

“I’ll call you later, yeah?” she asks, giving me that look again.

That “I know something but I can’t bring myself to go there” look.

“Sure,” I murmur, pulling a neat, straight smile.

Neither her dad nor I say anything until we hear her car pulling out of the driveway.

The mood in the living room seems to have recovered, as someone turns up the music as it’s clear they might be partying alone from now on.

“Wanna see something?” Slade asks. Not looking as excited as the question sounds in my mind.

“Sure.” I nod, eager to do anything or go anywhere with him, wishing I’d never mentioned my tattoo idea now.

Eager to move past it.

“C’mon,” he drawls, lifting himself up and moving to the back door. “You wanna know something about tattoos? I think you should know everything.”

CHAPTER SIX

Slade

“You won’t be missed at your own party?” Abby asks, probing me again as we walk over to the next block where my studio is.

Shaking my head I smile, but mostly to myself.

“Nah. Those guys are used to me disappearing by now. I love ‘em like brothers, but we really don’t have that much in common anymore.” Recalling for a moment just how I upped and left the club.

Resigned as President without notice after Tasha’s mom and Switch did what they did.

“And what do you think about Tasha’s boyfriend?” I ask Abby, returning a question for a question.

Trying to forget my past out of habit too.

Her eyes tell me everything before she can change her expression. Her shoulders sag, and her face falls for a moment.

I can feel the sadness pouring from her.

“At least she’s got a boyfriend,” Abby says with what sounds like resignation.

“And you?” I ask.

I have to ask otherwise I won’t know.

A perfect fucking ten like Abby? She must have half the town’s male population after her, with the other half wondering what’s wrong with themselves.

I stop my thoughts right there though. Reminding myself how it feels to know my daughter’s out there. Doing god knows what with that Brad little shit.

Abby looks wounded, but smiles a sad smile, shaking her head. Mumbling something about Mr. Right not coming along yet.

“Maybe boys aren’t your thing,” I suggest, noting her face flush at my words.

“I like boys,” she protests with a little laugh, but I really have to explain myself now.

“Oh, sure,” I agree. “But I mean… Well, sometimes a boy is just that. Some chicks dig real men instead,” not meaning to sound like my leather-clad brothers, but it’s the only words that’ll come out.

What I really wanna say?

I want to take her right now, bend her over the damned couch or put my face over her little slit on the countertop in my studio?

She’d probably run a mile if I said that. I’d lose my chance with her and Tasha would lose her best friend, never forgiving me for it.

“Here we are,” I announce, avoiding the conversation I accidentally just started, fishing for my keys which I forgot in my haste to leave.

“Shit, I’ll go around back. Let us in that way,” I groan, but Abby follows me, asking me what I meant by “real men.”

“You mean like older ex-bikers who run tattoo parlors?” she finally asks, a slight tremor in her voice.

A bold question and a single sidelong glance at her tell me she’s not teasing me either.

Holy fuckin’ shit.

I might actually have a chance with Abby.

My instincts might be on the money here.

Let’s just say the last time I thought I was right regarding a woman, it was Tasha’s mom…

And that didn’t go too well. Got the scar from prison to prove it. But, that was over twenty years ago and I’ve done nothing but work and save since.

“Through here,” I grunt, flicking the lights on in my studio and taking a long deep breath.


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