Daisy (Archer's Creek Book 2)

by Gemma Weir

  “It’s okay, baby, we can just stay in here,” Daisy says.

  I force my fingers to still and then look up at him. “No, you’re right. It’ll be better to go eat with everyone else. Grits said I needed different clothes, but I only have a couple of my dresses from home with me.”

  Grabbing his cell from the dresser he quickly dials someone. “Hi, yeah, it’s Daisy. You mentioned sorting a few clothes for Angel. Yeah, okay. See you in a few. Bye.”

  I listen to the one-sided conversation and wait. Daisy ends the call and then smiles triumphantly. “I’m gonna grab a quick shower. Grits will be here in ten with some clothes for you. I don’t know what you said to her last night—she’s normally mean as a snake—but she sure seems to like you.”

  I smile. “She was really nice. I like her a lot.”

  Daisy grins and shakes his head in amusement. “Fucking hell, baby, you cracked Grits. I don’t think that’s ever happened before.” Chuckling to himself he crosses the room and disappears into the bathroom.

  Sitting up in bed I stare at the half-closed bathroom door. I hear the shower start, quickly followed by Daisy’s awful, off-key singing and I have to cover my mouth with my hand to muffle the sound of my laughter. The shower stops, and he emerges from the bathroom naked, except for a towel that sits low on his hips.

  I watch slack-jawed as he pads half naked and barefoot over to the dresser and pulls out some clothes. His back is to me and I admire the rippling muscles that tense and pull as he moves, almost swallowing my tongue when he loosens the towel and it falls to the floor.

  He’s completely naked. His tight, round ass is perfect, and I want to shout out in protest when he slides on a pair of boxer briefs. Pulling on jeans and a t-shirt, he turns to face me with a knowing smirk on his lips and I feel the heat bloom across my cheeks. I fight the urge to curl up into a ball, my face is on fire and I’m so embarrassed at being caught ogling him.

  Striding across the room he lifts a black leather vest from the back of a chair and pulls it on over his t-shirt, then he crawls onto the bed and flops down next to me. He doesn’t touch me, just sits propped up with his head leaning back against the wall. His legs are crossed at the ankles and his t-shirt has ridden up, so his stomach is on display. He’s so masculine but beautiful at the same time. His fingers edge across the space between us and he lifts my hand to his lips, kissing my skin gently. “Go take a shower, Angel. I’ll stay until Grits gets here.”

  He doesn’t release my hand immediately and I look from his face to where he holds my fingers in his and back again. Deliberately, he turns my hand over and lifts my palm to his mouth, dropping a kiss to the very center. He folds my fingers over the spot his lips just touched and then releases me. I pull my hand into my chest, keeping my fingers folded protectively across the kiss in my palm. Something about the way he just touched me feels so incredibly intimate and I panic, scrambling from the bed and hurrying into the bathroom.

  Closing the door firmly behind me, I rest against the wood and pull in a deep breath. I lift up my arm and slowly uncurl my fingers from my palm. I half expect his kiss to be branded into my skin, but my palm is empty and only the lingering feeling of his lips on my skin is left behind. Showering quickly, I wrap myself in a towel and half open the bathroom door, peeking through the gap. Grits is sitting on the bed messing with her cell phone and when she spots me she jumps up, a bright smile on her face. “Morning, Dove, how you doin’ today? I brought you some clothes. I wasn’t sure what size you were, so I got a selection.”

  Opening the door fully, I step into the bedroom with the towel wrapped around me tightly and hurry to grab a pair of panties and a bra from my backpack. Grits is busy sorting through a pile of bags on the floor next to the bed, so I walk back into the bathroom and slide on my underwear and Daisy’s t-shirt. When I return, the bed is covered in clothes and Grits is busy organizing them into outfits. I hope that whatever she’s chosen for me has more fabric than hers. She’s wearing a short, tight black dress; knee high boots; and a leather vest that says ‘Property of Anders’ on the front. She looks fantastic, but I’ve never had that much flesh on display and I’m not convinced today is the day I want to start.

  Grits smiles wide, takes two steps forward and pulls me into a tight hug. “Wow, Dove, you’re gorgeous even with that mean black eye.” Releasing me she points at the bed. “Okay, so I got you a few choices. You need something that will cover the backs of your thighs and not rub against the cuts, so bootie shorts and jeans are out. I know it’s probably not what you’re used to wearing but I have plenty of dresses and skirts for you to choose from.”

  I start to reply but she cuts me off by thrusting three outfits into my arms. “Go try these on, come on out once you’re dressed so I can see.”

  I obey and turn back into the bathroom; all three outfits are so unlike my normal clothes I barely recognize myself when I look in the mirror. Grits decides on the third outfit. A leather skirt that’s short enough to hit me mid-thigh but covers up the raw cuts and welts, a white shirt with the Doomsday Sinners logo on it that’s cut at the side and tied in a knot so a sliver of my stomach can be seen, and chunky black heeled boots with a bow at the back of each ankle. She braids back the front section of my hair but leaves the back loose and flowing over my shoulders. Lastly, she adds a quick coat of mascara and some shiny lip gloss.

  She turns me to look in the mirror and stands to my side, a proud smile on her face. “You look beautiful, Dove.”

  I stare at my reflection, hardly recognizing myself in the fitted clothes, and with my hair pinned back from my face. The heels are uncomfortable, and I want to tug at the hem of my skirt to make it longer. But I don’t; instead I just look at myself. My black eye and the bruises on my cheek glare back at me and I turn to Grits. “Shouldn’t I cover up the bruises?”

  Grits shakes her head. “No, baby girl. It happened to you and no matter how much makeup you put over it, it still happened. Better to just put it out there and then let them fade. In a few days they’ll be gone, but you don’t hide from the bruises, you own them, then you watch them fade, knowing you won’t ever let them happen again.”

  I nod, then turn back to the mirror and stare at my face. A knock at the door pulls me from my introspection.

  “Come on in, she’s all ready,” Grits shouts.

  The door swings open and Daisy walks in. Grits hangs her arm around my shoulders and turns me to face him.

  His mouth falls open.

  Holy fucking shit.

  My mouth drops open and I try to speak, but the noise is more of a surprised splutter than actual words. My Angel looks like a different fucking person. Her gorgeous white hair is pinned off her face, her shirt is fitted and that skirt, fuck, that skirt is so short I can see her perfect legs. She’s wearing heels, but she’s still absolutely tiny and even with the extra height she only just comes up to my shoulder.

  “You’re not leaving this fucking room looking like that,” I shout indignantly.

  Grits laughs, she fucking laughs, and I turn and glare at her. “What the hell did you do to her?”

  She throws back her head and guffaws. Her arm is still around Angel’s shoulders but now she’s leaning heavily on her because she’s laughing so much she’s struggling to stay upright.

  I ignore the Prez’s old lady and turn what I’m hoping look like imploring eyes to Angel. “Baby, you can’t go out there looking like that.”

  Angel’s shoulders sag into herself and I instantly know I’ve fucked up. Grits stops laughing and pulls Angel closer to her. “Daisy, I don’t know what the fuck is wrong with you, but Dove looks fucking gorgeous,” she growls.

  Angel tugs awkwardly at the clothes and I lift my hands to my hair and pull at the strands. I watch the life dull in Angel’s eyes and I drop my hands and march forward until I’m right in front of her. “Angel, you look fucking beautiful, but I think you look beautiful in my sweats or in your ugly sack dresses.”

  Her ey
es lift from the floor and lock with mine. “You do?” She asks, shocked.

  “Of course I do. You’re perfect. The clothes you’re wearing don’t make any difference,” I say, my hands moving to cup her jaw. Grits silently backs away and fusses with the sea of clothes spread out across my bed.

  “I look stupid, don’t I?” Angel asks, turning to look at herself in the mirror behind us.

  “No, baby, you look absolutely amazing. That’s the problem. I’m gonna be fighting the guys off you the moment they see you dressed like that.”

  Her eyes jump to mine in the mirror and her mouth makes an ‘O’ shape at her surprise. I chuckle and then carefully curve my arm around her waist and turn her to face me again. “Can I kiss you, my pretty little angel?”

  She pulls her bottom lip between her teeth and then nods. I don’t give her chance to change her mind. Dipping my head, I kiss her and she immediately parts her lips. I slide my tongue into her mouth and hold her close, devouring her. Her body molds against mine and every nerve ending in me sparks to life. Emotions I haven’t felt in years and don’t truly understand force their way to the surface and an overwhelming sense of comfort and happiness radiates through me.

  Only Angel makes me feel this way.

  I rub my fingers along the slither of skin that’s on display between the end of her shirt and the start of that leather skirt. God that skirt—my Angel in leather is the most tempting kind of perfection. Sliding my hand down from her waist I cup her ass and pull her tighter against me, so she can feel how hard I am.

  She freezes and I remember that she’s not just another plaything. She’s my Angel and as much as I want to lift that fucking skirt up and feel the heat between her legs I can’t. Angel hasn’t told me that she’s a virgin, but I’d be surprised if she wasn’t. I’m desperate to be the first to see and feel all of her untouched sweetness, but I can’t—not unless she’s mine to keep and definitely not while she’s scared and hiding from her dad’s bullshit.

  Loosening my hold on her ass, I bury my face into the curve of her neck and pull in deep steady breaths while I try to calm down. Grits clears her throat loudly. I’d forgotten she was even in the room. Reluctantly, I lift my head from Angel’s neck, and she turns to Grits.

  Grits lifts her eyebrows and smirks. “Dove, you look gorgeous, sweetie.” Turning to me she points her finger menacingly. “Daisy, don’t be a dick.” Walking to the door she waves over her shoulder. “I gotta work today, baby girl, but I’ll be back to see you later.”

  Angel laughs. “Okay. Thank you for the clothes.”

  Grits waves her off and leaves, closing the door behind her.

  I turn Angel to face me again. “Dove?” I question.

  “Yeah, Grits said I shouldn’t tell people my real name and Anders called me Dove last night, so she said I should use that. I told her that you call me Angel, but she said that she didn’t think you’d be happy if everyone started calling me that. I told her you wouldn’t care, but she laughed and then just carried on calling me Dove.”

  I scowl. “She’s right. No one else gets to call you Angel but me. You’re my Angel, nobody else’s.”

  Angel’s huge doe eyes look up at me and I can see the confusion in them. “You make me feel all kinds of crazy possessive, Angel. Hell, you make me feel all kinds of things I haven’t felt in a really long fucking time. You’re my Angel and I don’t want anyone to think they get a share.”

  Her eyes widen as my words register. I don’t think she really understands what I’m saying. I don’t fully understand what I’m saying, but her body is relaxed in my arms so at least she’s not freaking out. “You ready to go eat?”

  She glances down at herself and her new clothes and then pulls in a deep breath and nods. “As I’ll ever be.”

  I laugh. “Come on, it’ll be fine. If you start to feel uncomfortable just tell me and we’ll come straight back in here, okay?” She nods and I drape my arm over her shoulders and guide her out of my room.

  The bar is quieter than normal, the breakfast buffet is laid out on tables to one side of the room and my brothers are dotted around, eating in small groups. I spot Echo and Liv at a table in a corner, so after taking Angel to grab a plate and encouraging her to add more than a cinnamon bun to hers, I guide her over to the table.

  As usual Liv is sat in Echo’s lap, but she jumps up when she sees me, and I give her a quick one-armed hug. Echo growls and drags Liv back into his lap and both Liv and I laugh at his caveman behavior. I drop my plate on the table and then pull out a chair for Angel. Moving my chair closer to hers, I sit beside her, draping my arm along the back of her chair and absentmindedly playing with the strands of her hair.

  I look up to find Echo and Liv openly staring at me. “Guys, this is Dove. Angel, this is Echo, and his old lady, Liv.”

  Liv’s face breaks into a huge smile and she waves excitedly. “Hi, Dove, I’m Olivia, but most people call me Liv. I’ve never seen you here before.”

  Angel freezes for a second but then relaxes and forces a taut smile. “It’s nice to meet you, Liv. Are you British?”

  Liv laughs loudly. “I swear that’s the first question anyone ever asks me. Yes, I’m from England originally but now I live here. What happened to your face, it looks sore?”

  Angel’s back goes ramrod straight. “Liv,” I snap.

  Liv winces and looks apologetically at Angel. “I’m sorry, apparently I forgot my brain to mouth filter today.”

  Echo’s watchful eyes move between me and Angel and I angle my body in front of hers protectively. He smiles widely, as if he just discovered something fascinating and then addresses Angel. “Nice to meet you, Dove.”

  Angel smiles but doesn’t respond. “Eat,” I whisper into her neck and she slowly starts to pick at the food on her plate.

  Blade flops down into the chair next to me and he nods to each of us in greeting. When his eyes get to Angel, he does a double take. “Little Dove,” he says shocked. His assessing eyes roam over her body and I growl and lean forward to block her from his view.

  Blade laughs and holds his hands up in a gesture of surrender. “Just looking, brother.”

  “Well don’t,” I snarl.

  I run the tips of my fingers up and down the bare skin on Angel’s arm, and she gradually relaxes, ripping small chunks off her cinnamon bun and eating slowly and silently.

  Across the table Echo is whispering into Liv’s ear and every now and then she giggles. Blade’s eyes are downcast, and he looks tired and hungover as he nurses a cup of steaming black coffee. I focus on my Angel sitting next to me.

  “Eat,” she whispers, and I smile and fork up a rasher of bacon from my plate.

  A hand with bright-red painted nails tiptoes down my chest and Ali slides in between me and Blade, sitting on the edge of the table. She parts her legs slightly and her short denim skirt rides up enough to show that she’s not wearing any panties, her shaved cunt fully on display. “Good morning, baby,” she purrs at me.

  “What do you want, Ali?” I ask, annoyance clear in my tone.

  “You know what I want, Daisy. When are you gonna make me your old lady? I’d make you so happy, baby,” Ali drawls seductively.

  “For fucks sake, Ali. I’m sitting here with my girl. Look at her. Why the fuck would I be interested in you when I have her?” I snap and lean down to drop a gentle kiss on Angel’s shoulder. Her muscles are tense, but she shudders when my lips touch her skin and she leans in to my kiss. Smiling, I move her hair away from her neck so I can run my fingers over the beating pulse point.

  “Eughhh, her. Seriously Daisy, she looks about fifteen. Why would you want a child like her when you could have a real woman like me? God, she’s ugly and skinny, and she’s got no tits. Is it the virgin look that’s doing it for you baby cause I’ll play virgin for you? You can break me in good and then I’ll play the dirty little slut for you as well.”

  My chair scrapes back when I stand up. “Ali, to start off with you were just a
nnoying and desperate, but you just insulted my girl and that doesn’t fucking sit with me. Apologize right fucking now and then get your skanky ass away from her.”

  “I’m not apologizing to her, she’s not your old lady. She’s just a whore looking for a biker to ride.” Ali shouts. She peers around me to yell at Angel. “You hear that, bitch? You’re no better than me. We’ve got enough club whores, we don’t need no more, so why don’t you get your ugly virgin ass back to wherever you came from?”

  “Ali.” Anders voice booms and the entire room goes silent. The prez walks the few steps until he reaches our table, with Grits held at his side possessively. Ali pales and steps back nervously.

  Grits steps over to Angel and pulls her from the table. She keeps hold of her hand and leads her to stand next to Anders. He looks at my Angel with a gentle expression on his face. “You okay, Little Dove?” He asks her.

  Angel nods but her eyes drop to the floor. Instinctively, I move to her side and Grits releases her hand when Angel easily curls into my chest.

  “Ali, what’s your role here at the club?” Prez asks her.

  Ali brightens and smiles seductively. “I look after the Sinners and make sure all of the boys have what they need.”

  Prez nods. “Do you belong to anyone, Ali?”

  Her cheeks redden and she shakes her head.

  “And who decides when we add a new girl?” He asks.

  “You do,” Ali says sheepishly.

  Prez smiles brightly. “Exactly. I do. You don’t have any say in that decision. But you see this girl over here.” He points to Angel and smiles at her. “This is Dove. She’s Daisy’s girl, and you were rude and insulting. That’s not how we treat visitors to our club. You will apologize, sincerely, right fucking now, or you will get your ass out of my club and never come back.”

  Ali’s face turns pale, and she looks to Angel. “I’m sorry.” She’s not exactly contrite but all of her bluster has gone.