Bourbon Blues (Serrated Brotherhood MC Book 1)

by Bijou Hunter

  “You’re probably right,” I mutter, running a hand over my sweaty forehead. “I’m not stupid or blind, but I won’t walk away from Daisy now that I have a chance to see how things work out.”

  “I’m not telling you to do anything. I’m only warning you about problems that might come up. Despite what you think, you’re naïve about shit, man.”

  “Naïve, my ass.”

  “Naïve is probably the wrong word,” Bonn says, glancing around for the right one. “What you are is spoiled fucking rotten. You get what you want, and you think you'll always get what you want. The problem is sometimes things don’t happen that way, and you’re completely unprepared to zig if life zags.”

  “Yeah, like at Hannah Tripp’s party.”

  “Exactly. You overreacted and fucked up things. I just don’t want you doing that again since you seem to dig Daisy, and I know she’s into you.”

  “She is, isn’t she?” I say, grinning.

  “She also went on a diet because she thought you called her chubby. You have the power to fuck her up, and I know you don’t want to hurt her,” Bonn says, pausing to frown at me. “If you do hurt her, you and I won’t be so tight anymore.”

  “Because of Ruby?”

  Bonn gives me a dark glare. “Because I have a daughter now. When I look at men like us with our bad behavior, I have no patience for it. You’re smart enough and have a good enough heart not to hurt Daisy. So be careful. You don’t need to end up with her, but don’t treat her like shit because you get your precious spoiled feelings hurt.”

  “Solid deal, but when I lost my shit after the party, I didn’t know her. I know her better now, and I’ll keep my shit under control this time.”

  “Of course, you know her better. Months of stalking will do that.”

  “Fuck off, old man.”

  “What happens when she finds out you’ve scared away her potential boyfriends these last months? Do you worry the stars in her eyes might dim?”

  “Nope. She’ll appreciate my commitment,” I say, grinning while glancing at my approaching brother.

  “Don’t forget we have a work meeting tonight at the Corral,” Dayton mutters. “I hate acting like your damn secretary.”

  “I’ll be at the meeting, but I gotta leave in time to pick up Daisy. There’s no fucking way I’ll make a bad impression on our first real date.”

  “Asshole, the club comes first, and you’ll stay as long as necessary. You know that.” When I say nothing to Dayton, he adds. “Be there at three.”

  Gesturing a yes, I take the ball from Hudson and get in position. I’m uninterested in saying or doing anything that’ll fuck up my good mood.

  Daisy has something special going on, and I need to know if she can maneuver in my life. I won’t let my jackass brother or anyone else get in my way.

  Eight - Daisy

  Men make a habit of standing me up on dates lately. The first time, I figured was a fluke. The third time was an insult. The sixth time was the final straw. I wasn’t sure what was wrong with me, but men always found reasons to bail on me.

  Now Camden is late, and I worry he’s suffering from the same buyer’s remorse as my other no-shows.

  Standing in the trailer park’s west end parking lot, I fidget with my pink and black tie-dyed skirt again. For those first few minutes I wait for Camden, I’m the picture of confidence. The sexiest guy in Hickory Creek Township likes me. The night before, we kissed and danced. No matter what the future brings, I plan to have fun with him because I’ll never have another chance with a man like Camden Rutgers.

  My confidence disappearing, I wonder what in the crap I was thinking by picking a skirt to wear on a date with a biker. My black shirt is blazing hot from the sun, and my black knee-high socks are too loose and keep sliding down. I’m ready to retreat to my trailer where I can change and cry into a gallon of ice cream I know Ruby has stashed at her place. Before I can hide away, I spot Shasta racing around a corner and straight for me.

  Camden’s sexy Viking vibe is riding high tonight. His blond hair is wild from the wind, and his eyes shine with rage. I swear he’s about to go into berserker mode.

  “I’m late. I suck,” he nearly shouts as soon as the Harley’s engine goes quiet. “Business is my excuse. I will probably get my ass kicked for leaving early, but I’m here.”

  Camden sounds pissed, but I only stare at him in shock. I was so convinced he wouldn’t show that I’m unable to accept this new reality.

  “I like that shirt,” I say when he stares at me.

  Glancing down at his plain white tee, Camden grins. “I picked it just for you.”

  I smile since his teasing never feels mean. Stepping closer, I study the Harley.

  “How come you call your bike ‘Shasta’?”

  Camden shrugs. “Doesn’t she look like a Shasta to you?”

  Smiling, I have no answer since I’ve never met a Shasta before.

  “How do I get on again?” I ask.

  “I would have brought my SUV, but I was in a hurry to get to you.”

  “Of course, you were.”

  Camden only grins and helps me keep my balance as I climb on his Harley.

  “I’m wearing shorts under my skirt. I don’t know why I’m telling you that, but I guess it’s important for you to know I won’t flash half the town during the drive.”

  Camden smiles at me over his broad shoulder. “You look gorgeous, but you already knew that.”

  “Oh, yeah,” I say, rolling my eyes. “Let me get comfy here.”

  I wrap my arms around his hard, thick stomach. His muscles flex under my touch, and my body responds accordingly. If I could turn off my brain, I would fuck Camden right here in front of everyone. His body sings to mine, but my brain won’t shut up.

  As we speed down the road, I worry about falling off the Harley. I worry about looking stupid on the back of his Harley. I worry my hair will look crazy when we arrive. I worry about my breath, and if I’ll have gas from my black bean salad at lunch, and if I’ll say something stupid or will I say something really funny and give Camden the impression I’m funny when I’m certainly not.

  I'm just completely frigging worried until I grind my teeth, and my palms sweat wildly.

  “Chill,” he says, glancing back at me when we arrive at Stella’s Rib and Rub. “I know I’m an addictive beast, but put your vaginal needs in neutral until after dinner, babe.”

  I glare at him and then try to climb off. Remembering how I fell on my ass last time, I ease off the Harley but still lack my land legs and nearly topple. Camden wraps an arm around my waist and steadies me.

  “You’re so sexy when you do that,” he murmurs.

  I reach up to check my hair and wonder if I have a bug smashed on my face. Camden watches me checking myself, and I know he wants to laugh.

  “You looked like a mime doing that.”

  “I want to make sure I don’t have anything stuck to my face.”

  “Huh?” he says, patting his face. “How about me? Did a bird take a dump on my noggin?”

  “Funny.”

  “Are you okay?” he says, now touching my face. “Should I pat you down to be sure?”

  Ignoring his offer to feel me up, I turn toward the restaurant. “This place doesn’t serve anything healthy.”

  “I know. It’s my favorite,” he says, taking my hand and gently tugging me along with him.

  We're seated in a choice spot by a very smiley waitress. I notice the way women look at Camden. They drink him in, and I want to do the same.

  His wild hair gradually falls into a naturally perfect poise. His eyes no longer look angry. In fact, his entire expression is relaxed. Camden even smiles while looking over the menu.

  “I’m still trying to eat healthy,” I say once I realize my low-carb choices are nil.

  “Take a vacation from that tonight.”

  “It’ll go straight to my gut.”

  “Curves are hot, Daisy Bourbon Crest. Didn’t you
know that?”

  I decide to pretend I’m a cool chick who eats like a man and never worries about getting fat. Is that what kind of woman Camden wants? I can do that even though I never ate the potato skin the night before. Yep, I’m a fearless eating machine. You know, just until I’ve ordered my ribs and cheesy mashed potatoes. Suddenly, I’m hit with the reality of consuming thousands of calories and carbs.

  “I can’t do this,” I say, resting my head on my arms and wishing to disappear.

  “Eat a free meal with a sweet guy?”

  I shoot him a dirty look about the ‘sweet guy’ part, but his smile tells me he refuses to be dissuaded.

  “You’re not a sweet guy, and I’m no free spirit.”

  “Okay.”

  Shaking my head, I want him to understand, even though I know he can’t.

  “The first time I saw you, I thought you were gorgeous.” Hearing this, Camden smirks. “Everyone thinks you’re gorgeous. Even lesbians do since they figure your long hair means you’re a butch chick.”

  Camden considers this idea, decides it’s a compliment, and then returns to smiling at me.

  “So I saw you on your Harley, and I imagined myself as a biker chick. I saw myself in leather and wearing a bandana like the girls that hang around your bar, Salty Peanuts. I imagined riding on the back of your Harley and never once in my fantasies did I fall off and land on my ass.”

  “That’s a sexy fantasy, babe.”

  “Ugh, you don’t get it. That’s what I do. When I was a kid, I wanted to be a ballerina. I imagined myself in my tights and tutu and dancing in front of an audience. Except I hate being on stage, I lack balance, and I have huge feet for my body. I’m an uncoordinated dolt, and no amount of dreaming would change how I’d never be a ballerina.”

  Camden watches me, but the effortlessly perfect man doesn’t understand.

  “Then when I was in junior high, I dreamed I would be an athlete in high school. I wanted to be on the volleyball and basketball teams. I imagined wearing the uniforms and going on buses to games. I had it all planned it out in my head even though I was still uncoordinated. Oh, and I hate sweating. There’s sweating in sports, you know?”

  “Yeah, I’ve heard that.”

  “You don’t get it.”

  “What’s wrong with enjoying a dream?”

  “I build up fantasies in my head that I’ll never accomplish. Like on my bucket list, I put I wanted to go cave diving in Vietnam and scuba diving in Belize. Those are stupid goals I can’t accomplish because deep down inside I don’t want to. Hell, I’m too chickenshit to take a Caribbean cruise with my sisters.”

  “Who cares about caves and scuba crap? I know you want me to understand, but I don’t get why you’re upset.”

  “You’re another unattainable fantasy like the basketball team and living in Japan for a year. I spend too much time in my head where I have dreams I don’t want to make real. Do you get it now?”

  “Why Japan?”

  “Camden,” I sigh when he refuses to focus.

  He grins at my frustration. “I’m not like the basketball team or the other stuff. I’m sitting right here, and you like having me sit right here. This right now is real.”

  “The night of Hannah’s party I was acting like Harmony, not me. She’s told me to be her, so I did, and I had a great time. You and I had fun, and then I acted like myself, and you nearly lost a testicle.”

  “So I’ll learn to wear a cup around you,” Camden says, wanting to laugh.

  “You think I'm quirky or insecure by telling you this, but I’m being honest.”

  “No, you’re trying to scare me away, but I fear nothing.”

  The urge to roll my eyes at his “fear nothing” declaration is strong, but I resist it. “I don’t want to waste your time.”

  “Nope, babe. You’re trying to avoid getting hurt.”

  “Okay, that too.”

  “Well since we're doing the honest route,” he says, stretching his arms across the back of the booth.

  Changing his posture makes him go from massive to super-duper-frigging-massive, and I’m a little afraid for my safety if he passes out, and I end up trapped under his giant body. On the other hand, of all the possible deaths I’ve feared over the years, this one sounds the sexiest.

  “You’re a dreamer, huh? Well, I’m a getter. In that, I get what I want. If I wanted to live in Japan, I’d move tomorrow. If I wanted to snorkel in Belize, I’d google Belize to find out where the hell that is. And if I want you, I’ll stalk you and scare away assholes and wait until you’re prime for the picking. Then I’d swoop in and knock you off your fucking feet and make you mine. When I want something, I take it.”

  “Scare away assholes?”

  “Just a few.”

  “Did you threaten them?” I ask, glaring at him.

  “No, not really. Doesn’t matter. They were wrong for you. I know what I’m doing even if you don’t,” he says, reaching for his beer. “And in case you’re interested, I know you’d look fucking hot in a bandana.”

  “Actually, when I wear a bandana, I look an old lady working in her garden.”

  “Not if the bandana is all you’re wearing,” he says, winking.

  “How did you even know about my other dates?”

  “Girls talk. You talked, and they talked, and I listened.”

  “Who are ‘they’ in this scenario?”

  “If I tell you, you’ll get mad at them.”

  “They’re idiots who sold me out. Why shouldn’t I get mad at them?”

  “Good point. Well, the idiot you work with now plus Lindsey Buller from the trailer park.”

  “I never talk to Lindsey.”

  “Harmony does.”

  Frowning, I cross my arms and think of the nights I cried over being stood up. “Well fuck you and them for ruining my dates.”

  “With the dental student who like pigeons?” Camden asks, sounding as irritated as I feel. “Or how about the Italian taxi driver who was into boobs and said he would buy you new ones?”

  “Those were two guys, and you are only picking out the ugly things about them. I could do the same with you.”

  “Doubtful.”

  “Your family business is…” I pause to make him stew, noticing his expression turn grumpier. “It’s complicated. Some women might have a problem with that fact about you.”

  “Some women don’t mean shit to me. I’m looking at you, and I don’t think you care one fucking bit about my complicated family business.”

  “Oh, I care.”

  Camden shakes his head. “Let’s go back to talking about you wearing only a bandana. Feel free to imagine me only wearing a bandana too if it helps.”

  “Perhaps that’s why you want me. You need to get your fix. Like you need to know what you missed out on. Well, trust me when I say you missed out on absolutely nothing.”

  Camden gives me a dark frown, but I refuse to be intimidated. “After the party, I tried fucking a chick who looked like you, but I couldn’t get into it. Then I tried fucking a chick who was the complete opposite of you and…”

  “Describe my complete opposite,” I grumble.

  “Blonde, super tanned, confident beyond human normalcy. She smelled like lemons, but she didn’t interest me. I tried a redhead too but felt nothing. I went on dates with chicks, so I would look like I was dating and wasn’t hung up on you. That worked until one girl thought I really liked her and got her feelings hurt when I didn’t want a second date. She fucking cried, and I have no tolerance for women crying. I mean none. I can listen to a kid scream for hours without caring, but if a chick sniffles, I shit myself.”

  “When was the last time you got your jollies?”

  “Jollies?” he asks, suddenly smiling. “Shit like that makes me dig you more. To answer your question, the last time was a few nights before you nailed me in the balls and took off running.”

  “I think you’re lying.”

  “You’re too cynica
l. Why would I lie?”

  “I don’t know,” I say, shrugging. “Men lie.”

  “Women lie too.”

  “Should we have sex to get it out of your system?”

  “Do you want to have sex?” he says and then chuckles. “Of course, you do.”

  Narrowing my eyes, I mutter, “I’m not sure I want you to be my first lover.”

  “I like when you say 'lover.' It sounds possessive. I want you to grab onto me and just take what you want,” he says, nearly laughing.

  “Is your thing well-proportioned to the rest of you?”

  “My thing? Oh, yeah, it’s pretty large. I once nailed a divorcee who’d pounded out five kids, and she said I stretched her out good.”

  “You’re gross.”

  Camden is enjoying messing with me. I suspect my irritation at him scaring off my dates has set off his male anger.

  “You asked about my thing’s size. I was content keeping things PG-rated.”

  “Well, I’m not looking to bruise or tear, or whatever else can happen. I think I’ll go with someone smaller for my first dozen times and then move up to a larger size. Eventually, I’ll work my way up to your massive thing, and we’ll scratch that itch of yours.”

  “Bourbon Babe, if I wanted a bunch of dicks jacking you all up, I wouldn’t have chased off all those turds.”

  “How exactly did you chase them off?”

  Sliding closer as if he’s sharing top secret info, he softly says, “The key to lying is not telling the same lies too many times, or they take hold. That’s why if I’d been the only one to call you a cock tease, it would have died off. Brittany Sams said it again and again with her dipshit friends, and it became fact.”

  “You’re an asshole.”

  “Not as big an asshole as Brittany Sams. You should focus all your hate on her.”

  I smile despite my best efforts. “You’re still an asshole.”

  “Sure, but I did you a favor with those guys.”

  “What did you tell them?”

  “Well, different stuff. You don’t want to know.”

  “Now I do.”