Blood & Bones: Whip (Blood Fury MC 11)

Ozzy laughed again, shaking his head. “Good thing. I’d be concerned with you cuttin’ Junior off at the knees if you weren’t. His balls only dropped a coupla years ago.”

“He’s done nothing to warrant being cut off at the knees, as you put it. I would never demasculinize a man unless he gave me a reason.” She raised both eyebrows at him.

Ozzy stared at her for longer than he should. “Careful with that one, Junior. Seems like this cougar bites.”

She bared her teeth, then snapped them together. “Whip hasn’t complained about my biting yet.”

“Oz, what are you doing?” a woman’s soft voice came from behind Fallon. She didn’t have to look to know who it was. From her conversations with Shay in the motel’s office and also with talking to her earlier while with the sisterhood, the woman seemed to be the exact opposite of the man whose cut she wore.

With the little Fallon had dealt with Ozzy, it was easy to see he needed someone like her to balance him out. Shay was super nice and introverted versus her ol’ man who was outspoken and rough around the edges.

“Gettin’ a beer.”

“You’re doing more than that,” came the accusatory tone. It didn’t come off as bitchy or bossy, but the undertone screamed disappointment.

One thing Fallon was picking up very quickly with this MC was that the men did not like disappointing their women. So, that undertone could be very effective instead of outright scolding.

Smart.

Her respect for Shay bumped up another notch.

“Huh,” Fallon said loud enough for Ozzy to hear. She made a sideways cutting motion with her hand.

Whip turned away and pretended to look for something behind the bar.

Ozzy shot her one last grin and worked his way around the bar, shaking his head and chuckling under his breath.

She was also learning that these bikers didn’t take offense to a good smackdown. If they could dish it, they could take it in return. No wonder why they busted on each other so much. It was almost like a sport.

When Ozzy was finally out of earshot, Whip turned back around, his blue eyes full of amusement. “Told you there were plenty of assholes.”

“For all the years I spent in the corporate world, I’m quite proficient in sniffing them out on my own. The world’s full of them, from billionaires down to the destitute.” She picked up her Jack and Coke to finish it. “Why don’t we swing by your place on the way back and grab whatever you’re going to need for work tomorrow?”

He directed one of his sexy grins at her that, if she was being honest with herself, heated her core and curled her toes. “Want me to stay all night?”

That wasn’t even in question. “Do you?”

“Ain’t gonna say no.”

“Well, that’s good because neither am I.”

He finished his beer, then came around the end of the bar to where she sat and planted his hand on her back. Just that touch did things to her, once again, that she wasn’t expecting.

A simple touch creating a more complex reaction than it should.

It was possessive and protective, especially when coupled with his words. “You gonna be okay here for a few while I go to my room and grab a few things? The sisterhood dispersed but I see Lee over there. I can send her over to keep you company.”

She didn’t need anyone to keep her company, but it was sweet that he thought so. “You live here?”

“Yeah. In the bunkhouse.”

“Bunkhouse? Like something similar to where ranch hands sleep?”

“Kinda.”

Just when she thought she couldn’t be surprised any more. “Where is this bunkhouse?”

He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “Right behind that door.”

“So, you live here?” She pointed to the floor.

“Yeah. Well, back there.”

“I need to see this. I’ve never been in a bunkhouse.” It wasn’t the bunkhouse she wanted to see, it was where Whip lived. Where and how a man lived could tell a lot about him.

It didn’t have to be big or fancy, but she was curious to see if it was clean and organized.

“Ain’t nothin’ but a room and a shitter.”

“Like my motel room.”

“Yeah. Without the daily service.”

And most likely, the big bowl of condoms. “You just don’t stop surprising me.”

“What d’you mean?”

She shook her head. “My whole life I’ve had certain expectations and that’s why this trip was and is important to me. To change my way of thinking that things were only black and white, or even different shades of gray. I thought I had to be a specific way to be accepted, speak a certain way, act a certain way. Work and dress to succeed. I actually got stuck in a rut without realizing it. My goal when I started on this trip was to break that old mold of me and become the new me, but organically this time. No expectations.”