by Evelyn Glass
Butch grunted and turned again. His cock had been in a semi-state of hardness the entire night, and he refused to get off to her, not when that brat treated him like he was dirt. It didn’t matter how sexy she was, or how much he was dying to smooth a hand across that tanned flesh.
Hell, a year inside the system couldn’t make him break when it came to women. He was used to being alone and taking care of his own needs.
But Gidget…
Stop it. He turned over again, exhaling loudly. Maybe she was still awake, naked under her soft sheets, her lithe, sun-kissed body smoother than silk. He cleared his throat, pinching his eyes shut.
How was he supposed to keep tabs on her when the sight of her made his cock jump? He wouldn’t be able to think about keeping her head on straight when all he wanted to do was get her bent over in front of him?
Butch fought his thoughts until he reached something resembling rest—a brief respite where his mind blanked out and maybe he was asleep, or maybe he wasn’t. Footsteps down the hall made him jolt to alertness when his clock read eight a.m. He sighed, readjusting the pillow, a dogged sort of exhaustion clinging to him.
But more sleep wouldn’t come. He rolled out of bed, opting for a quick, ice cold shower to jostle some alertness into him. He shrugged on a black tee and jeans before heading into the clubhouse to see who he might find.
Coffee seemed like a good idea too, so he headed for the kitchen to start getting familiar with the layout. He peeked into the fridge, which was chock full of styrofoam boxes with chicken scratch names and warnings like “Fuck off don’t touch” written on top. Cupboards were stocked haphazardly, exactly what he’d expected for a clubhouse populated primarily by men 25 years old and over. After a little search, he found the coffee and started up a pot to share. He leaned against the countertop as the machine came to life, studying the scratch marks on the countertop like it had a fortune for him.
“Early bird, huh?”
Zebra’s voice startled Butch. He jolted, gripping the edges of the countertop. “Shit, you scared me.”
“I’m not usually up this early. But I’ve gotta go on an errand today.” He sat in a chair at the breakfast nook, yawning. He was already suited up with his cut and chaps, like it was gonna be a long-haul ride. “You look like you didn’t sleep for shit.”
“I didn’t.” Butch rubbed at his face, like maybe it might help the dark circles under his eyes go away. “Can’t sleep real well in new places.”
“You’ll get used to it, I promise.” Zebra crossed his arms, smiling up at him. “So? How you feeling after your first day out?”
“Tired.” Butch blinked as he watched the coffee pot slowly fill with the dark liquid. The smell perked him up, but wouldn’t make his eyes stop burning. “But good. Getting used to it.”
“Yeah. It’s a good life to get used to, too.” Zebra smirked over at him. “And I promise, whatever your next assignment is, it’ll be better than the one you’ve got.”
Butch sighed, crossing his arms. “Yeah. About that.” He shook his head, struggling to find the words. “That girl is never gonna let me follow her.”
“I know. She don’t let nobody keep track of her.”
“And she…” Butch faltered, wondering if he should even go there. Bring up the sexual dynamics. It was like he wanted permission to go there with her, from a high-up brother.
“Is hotter than hell, I know,” Zebra finished for him.
Butch tutted, pulling out two mugs from the cupboard. “I don’t get what game she’s playing.”
“Game?”
“Coming onto me then telling me to get the fuck out of her room last night,” Butch clarified, pouring equal amounts of the bitter brew into their mugs.
Zebra let a low whistle. “That’s classic Gidget right there.”
“She does that with all the brothers?”
“No…not with us.” Zebra received his mug when Butch handed it over. He took a sip and then grimaced. “You forget how to make coffee in prison?”
“It’ll get the job done,” Butch said, taking a sip. It tasted like shit.
“Well she don’t act like that with most of us. We’ve known her too damn long, you know? But that’s how she is. She strings along guys like they’re licorice. She’ll burn ya, so don’t take it too hard.”
Butch grunted, taking another sip of his coffee. The evening before, he’d been resolved to ignore her. But now, he was worried he’d tear her clothes off the next time he saw her. “I’m not taking it hard, just confused. She won’t make it easy.”
“She don’t make nothing easy,” Zebra said, grimacing another gulp of coffee down. “But it’s Geo’s orders, so you gotta make sure she’s reined in. Preferably while keeping your hands off her.”
“Yeah?”
“We see her like a sister, but let’s be real—any one of us would rail her if she’d let us. Geo wouldn’t like her protector getting too cozy though, you know what I’m saying?”
Butch set his jaw, studying the acid swirls in his coffee. “Right.”
Zebra downed the rest of his coffee, then slapped the table. “I’m off, brother. I’ll see you later.”
He left the kitchen, leaving Butch in a contemplative silence. There was a lot to take in on the outside world already. And he needed a hell of a lot more caffeine if he was gonna be staring at Gidget all day, every day, without laying a finger on her.
CHAPTER FOUR
Gidget wandered out of her bedroom the next morning, trying her damnedest to look casual even though she was far from it. She’d weighed her outfit choices for far too long, knowing that Butch would be at her side. Even though she’d fought her daddy on it, and lost. Even though she secretly relished the pairing.
But Butch would never know that. She walked into the clubhouse, scanning the great room for a sign of Butch. She shrugged her purse over her shoulder, trying not to be caught looking for him. That would somehow be embarrassing. The room seemed empty so she breezed toward the doors. All the better if he wouldn’t be on her tail.
Once she crossed the room, a gruff voice sounded. “Hey.”
Her skin prickled and she turned. Butch lay on the couch by the fireplace, his boots propped up on the armrest. He didn’t make a move, just lay with his arm tucked beneath his head. His bicep bulged, drawing her gaze.
“What?”
“Where you going?” Even from across the room, his eyes sent chills up and down her spine.
“Why do you care?”
“It’s my job to care.” He sat up, eyes flashing. “Now where is it?”
She narrowed her eyes at him. There it was again, that tone that irritated the shit out of her. It made her want to slap him. “I’m not telling you. I don’t need a goddamn nanny.”
Butch crossed his fingers, the silence between them deafening. She swallowed hard, waiting for a rebuke, for a flash of anger, for anything that might mean she’d broken some of his resolve.
“Then you should act like you don’t need one,” he said, his low voice almost a growl. “Do you even understand? You’re a target now.”
His words stung like a whip. She sighed airily, like she was bored with the conversation. “Well, believe it or not, I get it.” She pushed out of the front door, knowing he’d follow her. He was right. She needed extra eyes on her. And her daddy was looking out for her. But she wouldn’t roll over so easily.
The door clanged shut behind her and then a moment later it clanged shut again. She didn’t glance back to know Butch was following her. She headed for her bike, the bright morning sun beating down on her, the humidity tugging at her perfectly plaited hair.
She calmly removed her helmet and tugged it over her head, and then swung a leg over the seat. She wore skin-tight black capri pants with a form-fitting blouse, the perfect semi-professional outfit for the interview she had scheduled that morning.
Would Butch care about her life, what she was even doing? He probably thought she was a spoiled bitch, a ditzy
blonde who did nothing but snap at him. And part of her wanted him to know the real her, the Gina she kept guarded beneath breezy looks and disinterested quips. It was her façade for men like him, for anyone she didn’t know well enough to vouch for.
But sometimes, it was easier to play the mean girl part. At least for a while. Until she could decide whether or not he was worth the trouble of opening up. So few men were. So why waste precious energy when it was just easier to flirt, play and provoke?
Her bike rumbled to life, followed by a second one. She bit back a grin. As much as she hated the control, having Butch follow her around like a dog satisfied something a little evil inside her.
The drive to the newest fashion boutique downtown was quick and pretty. Bushy oak trees lined the streets, and neat squares of petunias dotted the sidewalks. She acted like Butch wasn’t there when she popped her helmet off and strolled inside, prepping her game face.
The boutique was recently opened and Gidget wanted to manage their social media, as well as advising clients whenever possible on their fashion choices. It would be the perfect complement to her ambitions, and provide even more exposure for her blog.
And because it was a small local joint, the owner might be more open to sharing creative control. She pulled open the front door, a whoosh of cool, fragrant air greeting her. She strutted inside, her heels clicking softly on the wood floor. A woman with a black, angular bob and glasses that sat low on her nose looked up from the register and grinned.
“You must be Gina.” The lady swept toward her, arms outstretched. Gidget froze, unsure about the sudden display of affection, rigidly accepting the woman’s hug.
“And you’re Frida?” she asked nervously, forcing a smile.
“Of course. Come, let’s begin our chat.” Frida led her toward a back room, past elegant racks of flowing dresses, half-shouldered tops, gauzy material that grazed like silk against her fingertips.
Before Gidget passed behind the ivory drapes separating the store from the back, she glanced over her shoulder, out the full-length front windows. At the curb, Butch leaned against his bike, his arms crossed. She smiled a little—like he would follow me in here?—and pushed through the curtain.
Frida led them to a tiny table in the back corner, next to a fridge and microwave. She gestured for Gidget to sit down and then perched on the opposite chair, arranging her skirt around her.
“Now, Gina.” Frida peered at a folder she’d brought with her. Gidget tried to sneak a peek at the contents, and caught a glimpse of her resume. “I was very impressed by your cover letter and suggestions. And I must admit, I’ve followed you on social media.”
Gidget beamed. “That’s great. I’m so happy to hear that. I noticed your boutique right away and thought it might be a perfect fit, honestly.”
“You seem to be very invested in fashion.”
“It’s all I want to do.” Gidget shook her head, nibbling on her bottom lip. “I was born to work in fashion.”
“But don’t you think you should be heading somewhere like LA or NYC?” Frida asked, lowering the folder. “Or do you have plans to move there?”
“No, ma’am. My home is here. Social media and blogging can be done anywhere. And I’m going to be a bridge between these worlds. To show people that fashion isn’t reserved only for the big cities, for people with money.”
Frida smiled in a way that told Gidget she’d already gotten the job. The ladies chatted a bit longer, going over Gidget’s sparse work history and her familiarity with registers and customer service. After a half-hour interview, Frida stood, offering her hand.
“Well, Gina. It looks like you’re my newest employee, if you’re still interested in the job.”
Gidget popped to her feet, shaking Frida’s hand vigorously. “Oh, thank you! This is so exciting. I can’t wait to get started!”
Frida led her back into the store, just as the front door tinkled with the arrival of a new customer. Frida squeezed her arm, and said in a low voice, “Let’s have you start on Wednesday.”
Gidget grinned, nearly skipping out of the store. Outside, Butch watched her, expressionless, dark trendy sunglasses on his face.
He didn’t budge as she strutted up to her bike. She couldn’t fight the silly grin on her face.
“Aren’t you gonna ask me how it went?” She reached for her helmet, pride bubbling inside her.
“How what went?” He shifted against the bike, his biceps flexing in the light. Sweat glistened on his temples. He must have been hotter than a dog standing out here for almost an hour in the sun.
“My interview.”
“How would I know what you’re here for?” He reached for his helmet too once she strapped hers on.
“You never asked.” She swung a leg over the bike, looking back at him.
“Didn’t get too far by asking earlier,” Butch grumbled.
She grinned, though normally that comment would have ruffled her. “You’re so witty.”
He leveled her with his gaze.
“Fine. If you don’t care, I won’t tell you.”
“Didn’t think caring was in the job description,” he said.
Gidget’s face fell a bit. “Okay. Fine. Maybe I’m just excited. I got the job, by the way.” When no congratulations came, she became irritated. “But you’re right, let’s just keep it professional. No need to speak to one another.”
She groaned as she started the bike, her aggravation disappearing in the thrum of the motor. That’s what she got for trying to share her good news. Maybe Butch really was just an asshole. An extremely sexy asshole. But weren’t all the best-looking guys just secretly disappointing?
She blazed down the road, pleased by the way the rubber met the road. She drove around town aimlessly, trying to cool her irritation. After a couple curvy, tree-dappled roads she smiled at the thought that this was their first pseudo-date: driving through the pretty roads of Sturgis together. She glanced back, noticing Butch had lagged behind her, his neck craned to look up at the trees.
Her way of connecting to him, despite both of their resistance. And in a way, it was sort of sweet.
Not that she’d ever let him know that.
***
Butch laid on the couch in the clubhouse, grateful for the chance to rest in the cool air. Sturgis humidity was killer this time of year. Though he didn’t know if it was the heat, or just the slowly building pressure between him and Gidget that zapped his energy. Either way, he felt ready to wilt. He draped an arm over his eyes, grateful that Gidget had finally returned home to do god-knows-what in her bedroom.
He was able to snag some sleep, though he hadn’t at all intended it. When he jolted awake some time later, he grappled for his phone to see what time it was. Only a few hours had gone by—but did that mean Gidget had slipped out without letting him know?
He bolted to his feet, convinced she would have taken the opportunity to escape without him knowing. And wouldn’t that be perfect—failing at his first assignment on day two. Though maybe it would be for the better. He still wasn’t sure about this whole “family club life” idea. He still itched for his loner ways, with nobody checking in, nobody wondering about him.
Butch headed down the hallway, finding her bedroom door slightly ajar. He tapped lightly.
“Who is it?”
He crumpled with relief at the sound of her voice. She really did sound like an angel, if you could just look past the sinfully sexy devil façade. “Butch.”
“What do you want?”
“Make sure you’re okay.” He pushed the door open a bit, enough to catch a glimpse of her. She was laying on her bed, stomach down, in her panties, reading a magazine.
“Why wouldn’t I be okay?” Her words lacked the vicious tone he’d come to expect. There was a note of suggestion there. Something that made him push the door open just a bit further.
“I fell asleep.” He leaned against the doorframe, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Thought you might take the cha
nce to run for freedom.”
She smirked, kicking her feet in the air behind her. “I’m busy, so no, I didn’t run for freedom.”
He looked around her room, trying to figure out what ‘busy’ entailed. “Yeah, booked solid, huh?”
Her smirk blossomed into a grin and she turned back to her magazine. “Leave me alone now. You don’t even know what I do anyway.”
Butch’s eyes made desperate rounds over her body one last time before he ripped himself away, heading back to the great room. When he got there, voices boomed—some brothers had returned from an errand, and they stood in leather cuts and jeans laughing raucously by the bar.