Daz emerged from the clubhouse a minute later, escorting the heavily pregnant Ash with an arm around her back and one of her hands in his. With how tricky that movement looked for her, I couldn’t say I would have even bothered. It seemed like it was high time to build the poor woman a lounge to recline on while everyone just waited on her hand and foot.
I found out quickly I wasn’t the only one who felt that way when Sketch went right to her. Even at the slight distance, I heard his, “Why are you up, firefly?”
Firefly. That was cute.
As was the way the very tattooed—as in all the skin I could see aside from his face was covered—biker doted on his woman and their daughter.
He immediately shifted Ash into his arms, visibly taking every bit of weight he could without actually lifting her off the ground, and bringing her right over to one of the chairs next to Max and Ham.
“I’m fine,” she insisted as they worked together to get her lowered into a seat.
“Just stay in the chair,” he ordered. “I’ll get you whatever you need.”
She briefly looked like she was going to argue, then the expression melted away. I couldn’t see what was on his face, but I did notice his hand caress her stomach.
“Uncle Daz!” I looked over in time to see the streak of pink that was Emmy barreling into Daz’s legs.
“My little princess,” he greeted as he immediately bent down and started tickling her sides.
Sketch dropped into one of the chairs, muttering, “Every fucking time.”
Ash, noting the confusion I obviously wasn’t hiding, put in, “Emmy is a little enamored with Daz.” She reached out to pat her man’s leg. “Someone doesn’t like not being the center of his daughter’s world.”
“Asshole,” Sketch kept on muttering, sounding every bit like a petulant child who didn’t want to share.
I bit my lip to keep from laughing.
“He fails to see how similar this is to being the mother of a little girl with seven shirts stating ‘Daddy’s Girl’,” Ash said with a roll of her eyes.
Seven? Damn.
“That’s a lot,” I blurted.
“He’d have it on every piece of clothing she owns until she’s thirty if he could,” Ash assured.
“Damn straight,” “Daddy” piped in.
I foresaw some issues when Emmy got into her teen years, though I didn’t mention it. Somehow, I was sure they both already knew.
Cami and Deni came over after checking on their little ones. Deni settled in with Slick and immediately started talking to me, asking about where I lived and where I grew up. Small talk, but not disinterested conversation about the weather. She was making a point, and I got it. The cold shoulder from the introductions in the kitchen was over.
While we talked, I kept half my attention on Daz. Seeing him playing with Emmy was unlike anything I’d gotten from him before. Sure, by now I’d heard enough to know how much he loved his nephew, but this visual was different.
Any thoughts I’d once had that Daz was nothing more than a man out to get laid were blown away. No one could have been like that with kids and not have more substance.
“He’s a really great guy once you get beneath the bullshit,” Ash said, bringing me back to the people around me.
Obviously, I’d slipped from halfway watching to all-out staring.
Damn.
“I’m starting to think that might be true,” I responded.
I let myself get brought back into the conversation, not wanting to fixate on Daz. There was definitely more to him. It was just a matter of seeing how much of that he’d give me.
Not that I was letting myself get sucked in by him.
No.
Not at all.
He came by, grabbing the seat next to me a few minutes later after getting Emmy a juice box from one of the coolers.
“Old Style? Damn. Doc must really like you. Crotchety fucker would take a finger if I took one of his beers.”
“You’ve got that right, asshole,” Doc agreed.
“He knows a good thing when he sees it,” I sassed, bringing the beer to my lips.
Daz looked at me for a long moment that made me pause with the bottle to my mouth, unable to drink.
“He’s a smart man,” he finally said in a low voice.
What did he mean by that?
“Got that right too,” Doc broke the moment, and I was glad.
I had no idea what was happening between us, but it was freaking me out. I turned away from Daz, pretending to listen to whatever the conversation had turned to while I took several big gulps of beer.
It was only a moment before Daz moved farther into my space, his mouth meeting my neck beneath my ear.
“Keep drinking, sugar. Ready to turn the tables and get you in my bed tipsy.”
Now that was the Daz I knew. That was the Daz I could deal with.
Instead of responding, I lifted the bottle again to drain it, his deep chuckle cheering me on.
“Will you teach me to strip?”
That was Max, who was a wee bit tipsy.
“Sure!”
That was me, also a tad tipsy.
Cookouts with the Disciples were great. There was so much food, and it was some of the best barbecue I’d ever had. Then there was the cold beer that never seemed to run out. I’d have a fresh one in my hand before I was polishing off the dregs of the one before. And it wasn’t Daz who was keeping me stocked, at least not always. All the guys kept us ladies topped off with whatever we were drinking, but particularly Dustin, who was still a prospect trying to become a full Disciple. Apparently, that was part of his job.
Even Jager switched out bottles for me at one point when he’d gotten a new round for him and Ember, and I hadn’t even heard the man speak yet.
This seemed to be in part because I was now the one sitting on a man’s lap. Daz had put me there around the time Sketch took Emmy in to get to bed. My sense was that the brothers understood no one wanted to get up and kick their woman off their lap, so they helped each other out.
The Disciples, as a whole, were pretty freaking cool.
I was also coming to understand what Doc had meant earlier about the atmosphere changing as the night wore on. The kids had all been put to bed, something they were apparently set up for in the clubhouse. Now, with them tucked away, the numbers were growing, with men and women alike. Some were greeted by different brothers, breaking up our little fire pit circle. Some seemed to just be there to party.
This, in particular, included a good number of women.
Doing what I did for a living had long since stripped—pun intended—away any sort of judgment over how women dressed. I spent a good amount of my working time with my tits on display. So to say I definitely noticed the way the women who started showing after the sun went down were dressed said something. But it wasn’t really the clothing that did it. It was the way they moved around the yard like they were trying to be on display. Honestly, it was a lot like how I worked the stage at Candy Shop. These women were on the prowl, and their prey were Disciples.
Too bad for them I didn’t think any of the brothers were the type to be hunted.
Sure, they might have taken one of those women—on more than one occasion—to bed, but they weren’t going to hand over one of the vests emblazoned with “Property of” the girls were wearing.
Well, except Quinn. Cami and Ash had been wearing theirs all day. Deni, Ember, and Max had donned ones as the afternoon wore on before the various guests started to arrive. Quinn had explained she wasn’t really into the patch thing. She couldn’t see—though I guessed she knew anyway—Ace was still very clearly not a fan of this, and his face showed it.
Personally, I had to respect her sticking to her guns about it. Quinn was definitely the shy, quiet type. It was good to see her biker husband didn’t just get his way all the time.
Max, who was now in her own chair, turned to Ham, who was in another conversation with Gauge. “Babe, guess what?” she interrupted.
Without delay, he swung around to put his attention on her. “What?”
“Avery’s going to teach me to strip!”
“Toots,” Ham had called her toots all afternoon. I’d never heard it used in real life, but it totally worked for them. “You wanna learn to strip, I’ll install a fuckin’ pole in the bedroom tomorrow.”
I was about to cut in and say I could teach her plenty without having to put in a pole. Just a chair was plenty to work with. Before I could, Max spoke again.
“You said that about the sex swing.”
Quinn sighed, as she seemed to every time Max went outside what most would consider boundaries for polite conversation. Even I had to admit that one was a bit of an overshare.
“I told you, you order that shit, and I’ll install it,” Ham argued.
“A sex swing sounds fun,” Ember said more quietly, though not enough to keep the rest of us seated close from hearing her.
Jager looked at her and smiled in a way that was nothing short of predatory. It was equal parts sexy and absolutely terrifying. It also made me wonder—though I wouldn’t ask—what their sex life was like.
“Shared the patch with that motherfucker for years,” Daz whispered in my ear. “Never saw him fuckin’ smile until she came along. And now when it happens, it’s always like he’s going to fuckin’ eat her. Creepy bastard.”
I had to laugh. It was so similar to my own thoughts.
My laughter died when I heard, “Oh man.”
All eyes flew to Ash at those words. I couldn’t see anything amiss about her, but her face was a mix of surprise and worry.
Before I could process it, Ham was on his feet and shouting across the yard to where Sketch was talking to a couple people. “Yo, Sketch. Time has come!”
Instantly, he was bolting our way while everyone started moving. Daz got us to our feet.
Sketch was already leading a slow moving Ash away, and the rest of us were quickly following behind.
Ham kept on shouting to announce, “Party’s over! Everyone out!”
The party was definitely over.
Because it was time for Ash to have a baby.