Page 16 of I Was Born Ruined (Death by Daybreak MC 1)
As soon as I enter the room, the conversation stops.
“What do you want?” Cat asks in that gruff, weird way of his, staring at me from the direction of the fridge.
I stare back at him and then let my eyes trail to the others. There's René, the gray bearded treasurer of the club, a man I've known my entire life. He's like an uncle to me, twice as warm as my own father. Of course, twice of zero is still, you know, zero but he feels about a billion times more approachable.
The other four guys … three of them I know—Crown, Sin, Beast—but one is new.
Nobody bothers to introduce him, but I can see from his name tag.
Grainger. Cade Grainger. Right, that's the vampire fuck.
“Hi, yeah, my day's been great. No, thanks, I don't need any help unpacking and yeah, it does make me uncomfortable when you act like my vagina makes me too weak to carry even small pieces of furniture.”
“Oh, fuck,” Cat says with a sigh and a hand to his forehead, “here we go with the femi-Nazi crap again.”
I curl my lip at him and walk right through the center of the bikers in their black vests and boots, feeling tiny prickles take over my skin. A rush of heat slams into me, like I'm stepping into a sauna, and I almost freeze. Go completely still and stand there in the middle of the kitchen, dumbstruck.
Glancing back, I take a little extra note of the men on the right side of the circle, slightly separated from René and Cat.
Jesus.
Except for Sin, they've all got to be at least in their thirties. Way too old for me but also … like, fucking hot as hell. I should probably get my head examined.
I ignore them.
“Boys, this is my youngest and the biggest pain in my ass—Gidge.”
“Gidget, actually,” I say, because I don't like people I don't know calling me Gidge. Pulling the fridge door open, I pause and bend down, searching for a soda. I find several six packs of beer and yank one of those off instead.
Cat doesn't give two shits.
“Fucking Christ, Gidge, get the fuck out of here. We're trying to have a conversation.”
I grit my teeth at Cat, popping the top on the beer and tipping it back. I finish it, crush it up, and then grab another.
“This rebellious shit is going to come back to haunt you,” Cat warns as I pad barefoot out of the kitchen, dressed in cutoff jean shorts and a white tank with no bra.
As I'm leaving the kitchen, I look back and notice that four sets of eyes are watching me.
All of them hungry.
I could feel intimidated, but I've grown up around the baddest of the bad, the biggest assholes known to man.
Instead … I could give a crap less.
I smirk, open the beer, and take another sip.
Deep down, I know that I could have them if I wanted them—all of them.
And that makes the darkest, most wicked parts of me grin.Now …Tugging the edges of my borrowed hot pink bikini top up (I fucking hate pink), I make my way down to the pebbled beach at the edge of the water, gazing out at the rich, blue surface of Dorena Lake. It stretches to the horizon, to a craggy shore lined with trees, the occasional house peeking out from the sea of green needles.
“You want to tell me why you came outta that church with your cheeks flushed and your jeans missing a button?” Reba asks, putting her hands on her hips and giving me a look. She is wearing a tasteful, vintage one-piece while I'm stuck in one of Dena's itsy-bitsy, teeny-weenie slutty pink and gold bikinis (yes, there's a song reference there).
“I'm bloated; I think I'm starting my period soon.”
“Gidget,” Reba warns, but I'm already starting down the hill towards the water, joining the raucous of my classmates as they float in orange and green and yellow rings with beers stuffed in the cupholders.
Amiya's lounging on a towel on the small sandy stretch between the rocks and the water; I take the one next to her and hold out a hand for the small plastic bag she's clutching. In it, there's a brownie she's taking tiny nibbles of.
“How cliché,” I say, leaning back and enjoying the way she looks at me, with just a little bit of fear in those brown eyes of hers, “a pot brownie. Give it here.”
Amiya passes over the bag and grins at me as I dig in.
“Sure you want to do that?” she asks, a little bit of her usual snootiness creeping into her voice. “I saw you puking all over at the bonfire.”
“I'm pregnant,” I say and watch as her eyes widen in shock. I shove a piece of brownie in my mouth and grin. “Must be one of those burly bikers from my dad's club. If only I knew which one.”
