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Call me stupid, but I like the way she’s taken to calling me cowboy.

It started last night. It seemed appropriate.

I mean, she’d ridden me pretty hard, then I turned it around and rode her hard and fast until I shot one of the biggest loads I’d ever managed to release in my life.

That memory and again, the need for more, has me following Harper through the common room—which looks more like someone’s basement where they’ve thrown all their cast offs and created a bar where the whole neighborhood crashes.

It’s not fancy, but then neither is the brotherhood, and lately we’re doing just enough to hang on.

Hopefully that changes with King and me at the helm.

If not, then I’ve got some serious life decisions to make.

I catch up to Harper in the parking lot in front of the clubhouse. I did it by speeding my jog into a run, which moves me from just annoyed to pissed. I swallow that down and capture her hand about ten feet away from the door. “I said, hold up.”

She turns around to look at me, and now she’s the one that looks pissed. That should turn me off, but instead, it makes my dick twitch. Fuck, she really is pretty.

“I thought you had shit to do,” she snaps.

“I do.”

“Then let me go and you do it.”

“Need your digits, babe.”

“What on earth for?” she huffs, yanking her hand away, and yeah, that makes me want to fuck her too.

“Call you, invite you over to party.” I watch surprise settle on her face. She gives me a slow blink, and as I watch her long lashes fall before lifting, I fight a moan, because that too makes me want to fuck her.

She pushes into my body, making her fucking beautiful tits press against my chest. We stand there as close as we can get—at least with clothes on.

Her nose slides against my neck before her lips suck on the lobe of my ear and Christ …

That feels amazing. Yeah, I definitely need inside her tight cunt again.

“Cowboy,” she whispers, and hell, it sounds more like she moans the word. I’m one step away from telling King I’m busy and dragging her back to my room by the gorgeous blonde hair that is surrounding her like a damn gown as it blows in the wind.

“Yeah, baby?”

Before I even realize her intentions, Harper’s hand goes to my shoulder.

She steps back, her knee comes up, and she delivers a crushing blow to my balls.

She nails me so fucking hard I simultaneously can’t breathe and need to vomit.

I drop to my knees, grabbing my junk. For her encore, Harper rears back and kicks me again, though this hit thankfully— or maybe I’m in too much pain to measure which is worse —hits me in the chest.

“Damn Beau, what did BB do to piss you off,” my cousin Carlos—known as Spider in the club—asks. Beau?

“Heads up, Spider,” Harper snaps. “Days of Devil’s Blaze getting pushed up to the top of my waiting list is over.”

“Woah, hold up, Beau. There’s a contract.”

“Not about that we don’t. I did that as a favor. Skull and Torch earned that shit from me. Numb nuts over there hasn’t. I don’t even know your new guy coming in. So, I’ll do your work, but you’ll have to wait like the rest of my customers.”

“Beau—”

“And warning, you or anybody else in this fucking club makes me deal with that asshole? You can ship your shit elsewhere.”

“Beau. You know that won’t work.”

“There are others around who do decent work. I don’t need more bullshit in my life.”

“Hold up here. Who the fuck do you think you are, you stupid cunt?” I cough when I can finally get up.

She turns her gaze to me, and I swear to God, her blue eyes seem to be spitting fire—enough to destroy a man. It’d worry me if I didn’t feel like my balls were exploding and I was fucking livid.

“ And that did it . We’re done. I don’t want to hear from anyone here again. Get the message loud and clear to your new President. Devil’s Blaze is persona non grata. I’m done.”

“Beau!” Carlos yells, but the bitch keeps walking. She jumps into a sweet 1960 cherry red and cream colored Ford 100 Ranger. He turns around and looks at me. “What the fuck did you do, BB?”

“Nothing. The bitch is crazy,” I huff, still using my hand to massage my balls.

“Do you have any idea the blow you’ve just dealt our club?” he hisses, and fuck, his face is laced in panic.

“Jesus,” I growl. “Why are you getting so worked up over some stupid club whore? Sure, she’s a good lay, but I hardly think it’s worth getting worked up about.”

“You stupid fuck,” he says, shaking his head.

“What’s going on?” Crash asks, butting in where he doesn’t belong.

“Nothing,” I grumble.

“Yeah, right. BB here just burned bridges with Beau. She’s breaking the contract with the club.”

“Holy fuck,” Crash says. “What the fuck is wrong with you? Why would you piss off Beau?”

“What the hell does it matter if I piss off some bitch? Jesus you two are acting like the world is ending over a fucking club whore.”

“Club whore? Oh, shit! Did you call Beau a club whore?” Crash says, his voice sounding strangled.

“That’s what she is, and why do you two keep calling Harper Beau?”

“Because that’s her name, idiot. Beau Harper,” Carlos barks.

They look at me as if they’re expecting me to comment. Shit, I need some coffee and to get the hell out of here. These two are acting insane. “So?” I prompt when they just keep staring.

“Beau? As in Beau’s Customs?” Crash answers.

“Wait, hold up. That chick is Beau ? The paint guy?” I ask, and now I’m starting to panic.

Beau’s Customs is who we send all our bikes and vehicles that we restore to.

They do top-notch work—I mean, they’ve gotten awards and shit.

We get double what we would normally get out of a vehicle, and most of it has to do with the fact we get a one-of-a-kind paint job by the master himself … or apparently herself .

“I see you’re starting to get it,” Spider mutters. “If we can’t get her to change her mind, plans of digging out of the hole we’re in just got a fuck of a lot harder.”

“I—”

“And it was already fucking hard considering we only have four mechanics to work the shop now, and two of those are mostly just for bikes.”

“Christ,” I hiss, scrubbing my face. “I thought she was club candy or a hanger on, just here for the party.”

“That’s because you’re a moron. I’m not going to tell King or Skull.

That’s going to be all you. You might want to ask your dad to be there to keep them from killing you.

Although that might be a risky move, your dad loves Beau.

Still, you’re going to need them to see if they can talk to her and mend some of the damage you did to the club’s relationship with her. ”

Shit. Fuck. Damn.

I think I’m in trouble.