Crash by Jeanne St. James

Chapter Five

Stella looked drop-dead gorgeous.Her normally straight, long black hair had fresh blue highlights and fell in large bouncy waves around her shoulders and down her back.

Teddy from Manes on Main had come out to the farm earlier to do both her hair and makeup. The latter looking light and natural since Stella wasn’t a girly girl. She was more of a badass rocker bitch with both her tattoos and attitude.

She definitely fit the profile by managing and owning a bar called Crazy Pete’s, named after her father. She was also the perfect woman to stand by the Fury president’s side.

Like Liz, Stella was the daughter of an Original. She came from biker blood and now lived the biker lifestyle.

The wooden arch under which they would be joined in marriage had been brought in and decorated with flowers. Sully, a Dark Knight who was ordained, stood in front of the couple, legally binding the reigning king and queen of the Blood Fury MC.

As unhappy as Liz had been this morning with the bullshit Ozzy pulled, she now couldn’t stop smiling. Though, a few tears had escaped as she witnessed Stella and Trip stare into each other’s eyes wearing huge smiles and their faces expressing a whole bunch of love for each other. Love they couldn’t hide, even if they wanted to. It beamed from them like the rays of the late spring sun.

Liz laughed under her breath at how both Trip and Stella would hate that analogy.

She wouldn’t be surprised if Stella announced she was pregnant in the next few months. Trip had been impatiently waiting. He was building this kingdom for not only his club family but for one of his very own.

His brother Sig stood by his side as best man and Autumn stood next to Stella as her maid of honor, her red hair like a bright flame capturing the afternoon light. She had worn a cream-colored sundress that emphasized her hair color and Sig’s dark eyes had been glued to his ol’ lady during the whole ceremony.

Before the vows, Daisy, Judge and Cassie’s six-year-old daughter, had walked down the “aisle” as the flower girl, sprinkling orange and black rose petals—Harley Davidson colors, of course—on the grass as she walked.

Everyone had held their breath while she took that trek since they were all expecting the headstrong girl to do something unexpected. Luckily, Judge must have had a serious discussion with her earlier, since she ended up being a perfectly well-behaved flower girl.

No ring bearer was needed since no wedding bands were exchanged. The couple planned on getting tattoos instead, each bearing the other’s name on their left ring fingers.

Trip said a ring could be easily removed and tossed aside. A tattoo more difficult to get rid of.

Liz loved that idea. It showed the drive and determination to make a relationship work. Especially with one that struggled like Trip and Stella’s. They had their perfect moments and then they had their far-from-perfect ones since Trip had a trigger temper and Stella herself was headstrong.

Even so, Liz only hoped she could find a man to love her as much as Trip loved Stella. Or Sig loved Autumn. Men who lived and breathed for their women and would die for them, too. Those two couples weren’t the only ones.

She never expected Reese to be the first ol’ lady of the bunch to get pregnant. She was the one woman in the Fury sisterhood that didn’t quite fit with the rest. Even as opposite as they were, Deacon and Reese’s personalities complemented each other. And as much as a hard-ass Reese was, if you paid attention long enough, you could see the woman’s face soften whenever she watched her ol’ man and didn’t think anyone else was looking. The civil litigation attorney worked hard and loved even harder. Being with Deacon helped bring out her vulnerable side for those brief moments she let her walls drop.

Judge, Cage, Rook and Rev were also loyal and dedicated to their women. Those strong relationships gave Liz hope that one day she’d find the same, a man—or woman—she’d be willing to lay down her life for, if needed. Or vice versa.

When she finally found love, she longed for a bond so strong that life wouldn’t seem worth living if something happened to her partner. She’d witnessed that connection with her mother and stepfather. She’d also seen it with the Fury couples. So proof existed that it was possible.

She sighed softly, wiping at the corners of her eyes as Trip and Stella exchanged their own written vows. They weren’t spoken loud enough for everyone to hear them, but instead, recited softly directly to each other, the two people to whom those vows would mean the most.

Chairs had been rented and lined up in the grass in typical wedding fashion. The day turned out beautiful, even though there had been a threat of rain. By a miracle, it had skipped their area. The clouds had parted and the sun came out just as if someone upstairs knew how important this day was to the people gathered.

This weekend was more than a wedding celebration, it was a bonding of three allies in hopes to make that alliance even stronger.

Even so, this was far from a typical wedding that Liz ever attended in the past. Besides being outdoors, no one was dressed up like at a “normal” wedding. There wasn’t a white wedding gown or a tux. No suits or fancy dresses. Daisy did wear a really cute dress, though, but only because she had insisted on one.

The groom looked handsome in brand-new black jeans, shined-up black boots and a white button down short-sleeved shirt under his freshly-polished black leather cut. Even during his wedding ceremony, the Fury president represented what he rebuilt, the MC that brought them all here together today.

The club was in his blood just as much as his ol’ lady was.

Stella wore curve-hugging white jeans, a sexy off the shoulder white blouse that showed off her tattoos, sandals that displayed the fresh pedicure Teddy gave her and, of course, her “Property of Trip” cut. Her vest made a larger statement than any wedding band on her finger ever would.

The audience all wore their best jeans, cleanest shirts and, of course, their cuts. Including Sully, the officiant.

Being a warm afternoon in the middle of June, Liz decided to dig out a dress she hadn’t worn in a while. It had a bright and bold sunflower pattern with spaghetti straps to show off her toned and tanned shoulders. It narrowed at the waist, hugging her curves, and the bottom flared out slightly, the handkerchief hemline just ending mid-thigh. The fabric was light and flowy. But best of all, today it made her feel far from the whore Ozzy had made her feel like this morning.

She glanced over to where the man sat. The happy tears she was shedding for Trip and Stella turned into ones of sadness and regret as she noticed his cheek still held a slight mark from her slap.

A crack marred her soul from everything that happened between them.

She wished things could be different between the two of them. But Ozzy was who he was, who he would always be.

The last thing she wanted to do was try to change a man who did not want to change. That wouldn’t be fair to him. And, eventually, she would regret trying to do that as much as she regretted losing control and slapping him.

In the time between leaving The Grove Inn this morning and heading over to the farm to help the prospects and other sweet butts, she decided that after this weekend, she needed to figure out her future.

Did she stay and remain a sweet butt? Or did she simply close the door on that chapter in her life? That would also mean ending her search. Truthfully, that might not be a bad thing. While she hoped to discover what—or who—she was looking for, she would also be fine with living the rest of her life never knowing.

She had lived the last thirty-two years not knowing her father, so never knowing him wouldn’t be life or death. It was more of a curiosity than a burning need. It could always remain a mystery. In fact, her mother had no idea she was hanging out with the current generation of the Blood Fury MC. She would probably freak out if she did, assuming this generation was the same as the past one.

When she had first shown up on the farm, she didn’t make a big deal out of who she was and she still had no plan to. If she could find out the info she was curious about quietly, then fine, but she never wanted to make a stink about it.

However, she quickly discovered that becoming a sweet butt not only gave her an in with the club, it gave her freedom when it came to her sexuality. From the get-go, the farm had always been a safe space for them. Liz appreciated Trip making sure of that.

Being with the Fury guys was definitely safer than meeting some stranger on a dating or hookup app, or even going to a bar, where drinks could be spiked. Especially when a woman was only looking for temporary companionship and not anything serious. Risks were high when a single woman dated people they didn’t know. In the past, she had quite a few close calls or scary moments. Ones she was lucky to have extracted herself from before any harm was done.

Any kind of dating options in Manning Grove and surrounding areas were unfortunately limited as it was.

At least with being a sweet butt, she knew she wouldn’t end up raped, drugged, or abused. Or even dead. Funny how bikers had a higher standard when it came to how they treated their women than a lot of non-bikers. That discovery had surprised Liz. Especially after hearing some of the stories about how the Originals treated women, whether it was the ol’ ladies, sweet butts or even hang-arounds. None of them had been safe.

Liz never once felt unsafe hanging around the Fury, but she had no idea how other MCs were. It could be they weren’t anything like this club. Perhaps because of what Trip, Sig and Judge had seen growing up made them want to do things differently, do things better.

But Ozzy was one of those Originals. As was Dutch.

Even so, besides becoming overly possessive, Ozzy had never mistreated her. Not once.

None of them had.

She could walk through The Barn wearing only her own skin and never worry about one of the guys taking her against her will. She could sit down completely naked at the bar next to any of them and they would act as if she was still dressed. If they were interested, they’d express that interest in different ways, but never would they simply force themselves on her.

If she happened to say, “No, not tonight,” for whatever reason, they all respected that and knew she might be willing the next night. If they were still looking for action, they’d find another sweet butt in the mood for whatever they wanted.

While the younger sweet butts could sometimes get a little catty with each other, as long as Liz kept her patience with them, they were cool with her. Especially since she was about ten years older than the second oldest one.

Sweet butts tended to be on the younger side, her being thirty-two wasn’t the norm. But then, she hadn’t decided to become one to try to land herself an ol’ man.

She was only there for two reasons. Loads of fun, nonjudgmental sex and to possibly find out who her father was. That was it.

At least… until this morning, anyway, when something unforeseen happened.

This morning drove home the realization that for the last couple of years, she’d been running on autopilot. Doing her freelance copywriting for her clients, helping Ozzy out at the motel when he needed it, hanging out at The Barn and helping out the MC when they needed it and then, of course, landing in Ozzy’s bed almost every night. Her routine had gotten as comfortable as a quality pair of sneakers.

Today she had switched the autopilot mode to off and now it was up to her to decide on her next direction.

She scanned the seats in front of her and didn’t find who she was looking for, so she peeked over her shoulder and quickly found him. When she did, her heart did a little dance and her nipples reminded her that, yes, they existed.

Crash’s cheeks were now scruffier than yesterday when she first saw him riding his sled onto the farm in formation with the rest of his brotherhood.

She wasn’t surprised to find his golden-brown eyes glued on her and one side of his mouth curled slightly, like he was thinking very dirty thoughts. He didn’t look away when she caught his gaze but it did turn more intense the longer she held it.

The other side of his mouth turned up. At least, until a feminine voice rose over them in song, making his attention turn in that direction. Liz’s also went back to Stella and Trip, who now held hands and faced the audience with Sully still standing behind them.

To the side of the arch stood a petite blonde somewhere in her thirties. Liz didn’t know who she was but her voice, pure and strong, was beautiful as she sang Tangled Up in You by Staind. Her rendition was haunting, especially since it wasn’t accompanied by any instruments. The moving musical notes that came from deep within her, along with the lyrics, caused a fresh sting in Liz’s eyes.

Strange, she wasn’t normally this emotional. It had to be due to what happened between her and Ozzy this morning. She was usually more thick-skinned than this, but her emotions were still raw and her heart still bruised by Ozzy’s unexpected revelation.

Even if he truly didn’t mean those words, they still had done damage.

When the singer finished the song and turned to take her seat, Liz noticed the blonde wore a cut that stated she was “Property of Crow.” She also noticed that the biker named Crow sat three seats away from his ol’ lady. Sitting between them were two children, a boy and a girl with the boy appearing slightly older. Both children had long, straight black hair exactly like their father but a slightly lighter skin tone than his, she could only guess stemmed from Native American roots. The young boy’s hair was pulled into a braid similar to his father’s, both males securing their hair with narrow strips of black leather.

Once Trip guided Stella down the grass “aisle” and the couple headed toward The Barn, everyone began to disperse. A sign that it was time to party once again.

Trip had spared no expense on food, booze and beer, or even the music, for this momentous occasion. She was grateful to share this moment with them. For Trip, finding his woman was a long time coming. Liz was happy for them both and she hoped the Fury president got the rest of his dreams fulfilled, too. If anyone would, it was him.

Yes, one day she’d have a love like Trip and Stella’s.

She sighed softly again as she watched them disappear into The Barn. She should really head inside and make sure they had everything they needed. It was their day, after all, and they shouldn’t have to lift a finger, especially with how hard both of them normally worked.

A sharp shift of warm air around her sent a wave of goosebumps over her skin.

“Goddamn gorgeous,” she heard in a low, gruff voice behind her. Searing heat against the bare skin of her back and shoulders drew another shiver down her spine.

“Thank you,” she said as she turned.

“Should be thankin’ you.”

She lifted her eyebrows. “For what?”

“For the sight before me.” His gaze took a long, lazy stroll from her head to her toes.

Normally, she’d groan at that kind of cheesy pickup line, but she didn’t think it was one. The way he said it made her believe he meant it.

“I’m a sweet butt, Crash, you don’t have to work hard at it,” she teased him lightly.

“Don’t give a shit that you’re a sweet butt. All that means to me is you ain’t got any sexual hang-ups. But noticed you ain’t got your cut on today.”

“No.” She had decided to leave it in her car. If any of the club officers had a problem with her not wearing it, she’d go get it. But right now, she wasn’t going to advertise what she was. None of the sweet butts from the Dark Knights or Dirty Angels wore them. Only their ol’ ladies did.

“He ain’t gonna like that.”

She chewed on her bottom lip as she stared up into his golden-brown eyes. After a moment, she shrugged. “You’re probably right, but that’s not my concern.”

His eyebrows lifted slightly as he considered her words. “Saw that mark on his face. You do that?”

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the crowd moving toward the courtyard and The Barn, leaving her and Crash by themselves among the empty chairs. She also noticed Ozzy walking slowly in the same direction, with an occasional glance back at her.

“Yes. Unfortunately.”

Crash ground a hand across his mouth, most likely to hide a grin. When he had it under control, he asked, “He deserve it?”

“No one deserves to be struck.”

“Ain’t true. Lots of fuckin’ people deserve an ass-beatin’. Sometimes they get what they deserve, sometimes they don’t. A slap ain’t shit.“ He tilted his head and, once again, ran his gaze from the top of her head and all the way down to her freshly painted toenails. This time more out of concern than sexual interest. “He hurt you?”

“Just with his words.”

“Then he deserved it. Words can cut as deep as a fuckin’ knife. They can do a lot of fuckin’ damage. Better that you hit him than me. I would’ve left more than just a red mark on his fuckin’ cheek.”

“This is supposed to be a happy weekend. I was trying to avoid issues between the clubs.”

“That ain’t your job. That’s his. That’s mine. Ain’t yours.”

“Okay, then… I was trying to avoid being the cause of a problem between the clubs.”

“Got it and gonna accept that answer. But it shouldn’t cause a fuckin’ issue in the first place. All sweet butts are supposed to make themselves available. He forgot that. Also forgot that he don’t own you.”

“You make it sound simple.”

“Should be, but obviously it ain’t. So, now what? You shed that cut. That mean you’re done bein’ a sweet butt?”

“I don’t know. I love these guys, I do. In the last couple of years, they’ve become important to me. They’ve all become family. I never would’ve thought I’d fit in an MC, but it feels like home. Have I done some crazy things? Yes. Do I regret any of it? No. Would I do it all over again? Hell yes.” She grinned and suddenly the weight pressing on her shoulders felt lighter. Her guilt about slapping Oz was still there and always would be, but the rest? She was glad she came back to the farm today to spend time with that family. To celebrate along with them. And…

Enjoy the attention Crash was giving her without worry that Ozzy would interfere.

She quickly glanced toward the courtyard to make sure that last part was true.

She was happy Ozzy had walked away without causing a scene even when he saw Crash talking to her. If she had a chance later, she would thank him for respecting her space. And if he’d accept it, she’d apologize again, as well.

“Now we eat, yeah?” Crash asked, looking in the same direction she had.

“We eat, drink and be merry.”

He grinned, the corners of his brown eyes crinkling. “Just like every other fuckin’ day.”

“But on steroids,” she added, fascinated by how handsome he was in a rough, biker kind of way. She curled her fingers into her palm to prevent herself from reaching up and touching the cleft in his chin. If he grew out his beard any longer, it would disappear.

What a shame.

She never thought about bikers being attractive until spending time with the Fury. Now she had a hard time finding an interest in anyone else. There was something about those rough and tough lovable assholes. They lived hard, played hard and loved even harder.

He placed a hand on her waist, slid it down to her hip and gave it a squeeze, the warmth of his palm seeping through the thin fabric of her dress and heating up her skin. And elsewhere. He chuckled. “Yeah. Gotta eat. Gotta drink. Maybe smoke a little. Oh, hell, ain’t gonna fuckin’ lie. Gonna smoke a lot. Then gonna eat some more.” He stared at her lips and licked his.

That sent a bolt of lightning through her, causing little explosions in her belly and beyond.

She drew in a shaky breath. “Bottomless pit, huh?”

He lifted and dropped one shoulder. “When the food’s good.”

Her nipples were so hard right now, they might as well be trying to reach out and touch him on their own. She struggled to stay on topic. “What about the ‘merry’ part?” That came out a bit more breathless than she intended.

But she had no reason to hide how attracted she was to him. Whether a Fury sweet butt or not, she had every right to spend time with him.

“Was hopin’ you’d help me out with that.”

While she would love to and also hoped to, she wasn’t sure it would be very smart right now. At least out in the open. She didn’t want to rub salt in Ozzy’s wound.

Yes, he hurt her earlier, but she had already hurt him enough, too. She didn’t want to flaunt her interest in Crash in front of him. She respected Ozzy too much for that.

“Maybe later.” After she talked to Ozzy and smoothed things over with him. She hated the way things had been left but her emotions had been raw at the time and she needed to extract herself from the situation before it became even worse.

“Yeah, maybe later,” he said softly, slowly sliding his hand free from her hip, his fingertips dragging along the silky fabric, a touch so sensual that it made her breath catch. “I’m here all weekend. Won’t be hard to find.”

No, he certainly wouldn’t be.

He gave her a half-smile and a chin lift. Then with one last look at her from head to toe, he turned and she watched his long legs encased in denim stride away toward the courtyard.

She noticed one important thing as the distance between them increased.

His ass looked damn delicious.

She was suddenly hungry for something other than food.