Thunder (Hell's Handlers MC 10)

“So, what brings you by?” Mak asked. She then realized she was standing before Kristy in nothing but a bra and her one pair of skinny jeans. “Oh, shit, sorry. I didn’t realize I wasn’t dressed.”

Kristy burst out laughing. “Girl, please. You’re wearing more than I see all shift sometimes. You’re good. Besides, I’m here to dress you for your big night.”

“My big night? I’m slinging drinks at a biker party, not strutting down a runway.”

“Slinging drinks? Look at you, learning the lingo.” Kristy arched a perfectly shaped eyebrow.

Mak’s face heated. “I stole the phrase from Shell.”

“Ahh, Queen of the Handlers.” She curtseyed, which made Emmie laugh and try to copy the move only since she was standing on Mak’s bed, she faceplanted into the comforter.

“You don’t like her?” Shell seemed loved by everyone who met her. Mak included.

Kristy waved a long-nailed hand. “No, she’s great. Actually, all the ol’ ladies in that club are. They’re very secure in their relationships, which is a nice change for me. Usually, when I dance at a party where guys bring their women, I get death glares and bitchy comments all night. One time this fu—fudging B even yanked me by my hair, screeching about wanting to prove how fake I was by pulling off my wig.” With a huff, she tossed her gorgeous mane of mahogany hair over her shoulder. “Please, this is all real. Now my tits on the other hand…” She laughed as she shrugged. “What can ya do?”

Mak just shook her head. Unlike any woman she’d been around in the past, Kristy’s confidence and comfort in her own skin fascinated her. Emmie seemed just as captivated by the flashy woman. Thankfully, she was too young to ask what tits were. Though she was starting to repeat everything, so they needed to be a little more careful. After leaving the community, Mak vowed no one would censor her again, so she tended to be a bit rough with the language at times, though she seemed like a choir girl compared to the bikers.

“Kwisty, pwetty,” Emmie said as she patted Kristy’s shapely leg.

“Oh, thank you, sweet girl. I knew you were a smart one.” She winked at Emmie, who tried to copy that move as well, but just ended up blinking her eyes.

Emmie might only be two, but she was dead on with the observation. How was it possible for Kristy to pull off glamorous in a pair of joggers and an oversized T-shirt hanging off one shoulder? Where she came across as some sort of casual wear model, Mak would look like a hobo in the same outfit. She’d been denied the chance to have girlfriends and play with her hair and makeup as a teen, and now she had far bigger worries on her plate. Yet she’d be lying if she didn’t admit it’d be fun to get all done up every once in a while.

“All right,” Kristy said as she set down her bag. “Let’s get this show on the road. I brought you some goodies.” With a slightly scary grin, she dug into the neon bag.

Mak eyed the duffle like it was a snake ready to strike. What the hell did she have in that thing? “Uh, Kris, I appreciate it and all, but we aren’t exactly the same size.” Kristy had a good six inches on her and an athletic, dancers’ body. Mak was five-foot-four with some junk in the trunk and not the muscular variety.

“I went shopping!”

“Kristy! You didn’t have to do that.”

“Oh, please.” She waved a hand as she continued to remove items from the bag like she was the Mary Poppins of clubwear. “After”—she cast a glance Emmie’s way—"s-e-x, it’s my favorite activity.”

Dread began to wash over Mak as Kristy pulled item after item from the bag. “Uh, don’t take this the wrong way, but we don’t exactly have the same style.”

With a snort, Kristy said, “As in I have style, and you don’t?”

Well…yeah, okay, she’d give her that one. “Fair enough. I’m just a little less…flashy.”

“If you mean you’re boring, I know. And I took that into account. Don’t worry. You’ll look like a million bucks without feeling like a ho.”

Mak’s face burned. “Oh, God, I didn’t mean—”

The laugh that bubbled out of Kristy was genuine and not at all forced or offended. Emmie viewed their exchange with wide, curious eyes until Kristy handed Emmie a few bangle bracelets. Then she oohed and aahed as she jangled them on her little wrist.

“I’m messing with you. Now shut up and try this on.” She shoved an armful of clothes into Mak’s hands.

“Here? Or should I go in the bathroom?”

“Jesus, you weren’t kidding when you said you came from a conservative upbringing, huh? Just strip. We got all the same sh—uh stuff, girlfriend. And it’s not like I’m going to be staring at you when I have this sweet girl to play with.” She held her hand out with patience as Emmie slid the bracelets on and off Kristy’s wrist again and again.