Page 6 of Alice & Meg: Summer Vacation (Fallen Lords MC & Devil’s Knights MC Crossover)

I was just about to swing my leg over the back of Lo’s bike when something caught my eye.

Right on the seat.

Tiny.

Blue.

A turtle.

I froze mid-mount, leaned in, and plucked the little thing up between my fingers. It was no bigger than a dime and painted the brightest shade of sky blue I’d ever seen. Its little eyes were two black dots, and it had the cutest smirk painted on its face.

I wrinkled my brow.

“Where in the world did you come from?”

As if answering me, the sun glinted off something yellow sitting on top of the saddlebag. I reached for it and found another turtle. This one was lemon yellow with tiny green flowers painted on its shell.

“And you brought a friend,”

I muttered.

“You good?”

Lo called over the rumble of the engine.

I nodded and stuffed the two turtles in my pocket.

“Yeah. Just found something weird.”

He didn’t even ask. Probably wise.

I climbed on behind him, wrapped my arms around his middle, and rested my cheek against the back of his cut as we rolled out of the parking lot with the rest of the crew.

The ride to the strip was short but sweet. The sun was warm on my arms, and the scent of sunscreen and street food was in the air. Kids darted between shops with ice cream cones melting in their hands. A guy in a full Batman costume posed for pictures near a hot dog stand. Music blasted from a store advertising fudge and taffy, and people meandered down the sidewalks with giant souvenir cups.

We lucked out with parking. Lo snagged a spot right on the street across from the first cluster of shops, and somehow, Bear managed to slide into the space behind him.

Adley climbed out of the backseat, shaking her head.

“Told you I wasn’t driving the van again until Sunday. Could you imagine me driving that tank with all of these people? And to top it off, it’s only Wednesday. The weekend is going to be insane down here.”

Greta tossed her a bag of cookies with a smirk.

“Have a cookie.”

Adley looked at the bag of cookies like it was a two-headed baby.

“I am confused.”

Greta slapped her on the back.

“Mission accomplished.”

Adley looked at me as if I could help her. I shrugged.

“Not a clue, but at least you have cookies to eat while you’re confused.”

We regrouped on the sidewalk and immediately headed for the nearest shop.

The place was called Driftwood Dreams, and it was a total tourist trap—a glorious maze of knick-knacks, kitsch, and unnecessary treasures.

Within two minutes, the girls were trying on hats.

“This looks so bad on me,”

Raven laughed and balanced a foam cheese wedge on her head.

“You take that back,”

Alice said and stuffed her hair under a cow-spotted cowboy hat with horns sticking out of the sides.

“We all look beautiful.”

I plopped a flamingo sunhat on my head, which drooped over one eye.

“How do I look?”

“Like the Flamingo Inn threw up on you,”

Raven replied.

We all burst out laughing.

Reva found a green beer stein hat and promptly declared it her new going-out accessory.

Wrecker stood near the door with the other guys and watched us like we were a science experiment. Clash had his arms crossed and a smirk on his face. Hero leaned into Slayer and said something that made him snort.

Lo caught my eye and gave me that slow shake of his head he reserved for moments like this, equal parts amused and resigned.

Shopping continued in a chaotic mess that everyone was accustomed to now.

I ended up with a pair of stainless steel taco holders shaped like cacti. Because obviously.

Raven bought a glass dragon the size of a football. Cyn got a salt-and-pepper shaker set that looked like two little flamingos hugging.

Alice, bless her heart, found a thirteen-inch-tall glass Highland cow.

“It’s art,”

she insisted and cradled it like a newborn.

“That thing is going to rattle off your shelf first time Wrecker drives by with the tractor,”

I warned. It was cute, but it looked very fragile. I would be surprised if it even made it home in one piece.

“Then it will die proud,”

Alice said as she petted it.

And Greta?

Greta bought a life-sized plastic chicken.

“Why?”

Adley asked.

Greta shrugged. “Why not?”

The guys didn’t even blink.

Normal.

Just another day in paradise.

The next stop was the place we’d all been low-key excited about since Greta brought it up: the Wild West photo studio.

The shop was called Whiskey Creek Memories, and the second we stepped through the swinging saloon doors, Greta squealed.

“This is it! THIS IS THE PLACE!”

A skinny teenager behind the counter looked up from his phone and blinked at her.

“Do the chaps have butts?”

she asked seriously.

He paused.

“Uh... no?”

Greta threw her arms in the air.

“YES! Let’s do this!”

The employee, whose nametag read Kevin, led us to the costume room, where chaos promptly unfolded.

There were racks and racks of Western outfits. Saloon dresses, cowboy gear, bonnets, feathered hats, suspenders, and everything in between.

“We need themes,”

Cyn declared.

“Saloon girls,”

Raven and Reva said in unison.

“I call the fancy lady,”

Greta announced, already pulling on a gown with way too much cleavage and a dramatic feathered hat.

I grabbed a burgundy corset dress that came with a fluffy bustle and black lace gloves.

Raven found a blood-red corset and matching fishnets. Not her usual black, but it somehow fit the bill to her vibe.

Cyn chose a dark green number that made her boobs look amazing, and Reva ended up in purple with a thigh slit that could have been outlawed.

Alice, of course, found the one and only old maid outfit.

She stepped out of the dressing room in a black-and-white number and pulled a feather duster from behind her back.

“Do any of y’all need your pillows fluffed?”

she asked in a thick accent.

“Oh my god, that is brilliant!”

Greta screamed.

Adley and Wendy came out in twin riding dresses, both navy blue with gold trim.

The guys, OH, the guys.

Wrecker in black pants, a long coat, and a bolo tie.

Lo wore a vest over a white shirt and had a fake cigar in his mouth.

Hero had a sheriff’s badge and a smirk to match.

Rigid looked like a gunslinger straight out of a spaghetti western.

Clash and Slayer both had spurs. Real spurs. And they were walking like they were born in them.

Bear...

Bear wore the chaps.

Over boxers with hearts on them.

We all screamed.

“I AM LIVING THE LIFE!”

Greta hollered and threw her hands up.

The photoshoot was wild.

We posed around whiskey barrels, on hay bales, and in front of painted saloon backdrops. One photo had us all fake fighting over a single gold nugget. Another had the girls lined up behind a bar while the guys tipped hats and raised fake shot glasses.

Alice stayed in full old maid character, handing out cookies from a tin she found under the costume table.

“This is going to be the best framed photo in my hallway,”

I said, wiping tears from my eyes after the last group shot.

As we changed back into our normal clothes, Kevin came in, looking stunned.

“You guys are, like, the best customers ever.”

“We’ll take one of every photo,”

told him.

“All the prints,”

Alice added.

“Can you make sure those two photos I had you take of Bear just come to me?”

Greta winked.

“I got plans.”

Kevin blushed. Lo sighed.

Just another typical Wednesday.