“Your brothers would be okay with you marrying … a lawyer?” I ask, carefully analyzing my prospects. “A judge? Maybe, if I can keep things cool with my father, the future mayor of the city?” Because I haven't exactly given up the whole idea of politics. If Royal and I keep our relationship quiet, I could definitely swing winning an election for Trinidad. The people here know me, know my father.
“Well,” he starts, and I flick my gaze back to him, examining the banner across his chest that says Raw and Dirty. Yup. That's what last night was. It was brutal and passionate and emotional and … I want to bury my face in my hands so I can think. Staring at Royal's chiseled chest and abs, the roses and pistols and wolves that are inked across his skin, that really scrambles my thoughts. “Maybe they could grow to get used to it? Times are changing,” he says and I watch as he runs his thumb over some of the rings on his fingers. “The club has rules; I can't change that. But there's nothing in our bylaws or the club constitution that says I can't have a lawyer as my old lady.”
Royal lets one of his signature smirks spread across his lips as he scoots close to me, trailing his knuckles down my upper arm. He looks confident, completely full of himself, like he doesn't give two shits whether I say yes or walk out of his life forever.
It's a lie.
I saw the real truth of his feelings for me last night. He says he loves me; I believe it.
I stare at the ring again and draw in another deep breath. I like to plan my route down to the waters of uncertainty, pick my way among rocks, ease myself in inch by inch. This time, I'm jumping headfirst.
“Okay,” I say and Royal raises his brows at me again. It's not a yes, I get that, but this is what I can do right now, today, here, under these circumstances. “For now, we can try this. Quietly.” I stare into his eyes, let myself get lost there for a second. “We can tell the club. Obviously they'll never accept me if I say no now. But we keep this to ourselves, contain it to your people. And then we see how things go from here, with the FBI, with the cartel, with our families. I know it's not a fairy-tale acceptance speech, but … it's real and genuine and it's what I've got for you right now.”
Royal's quiet a long moment, the only sound that of the wolves licking the alfredo sauce from my plate. When they're done, they bow and stretch and flick their tails happily.
“Pint-Size,” he tells me, drawing me into his lap, highlighting the fact that I'm still not wearing anything down below. Royal strokes my cheek, looks into my eyes, tugs me forward so that I'm straddling the hardness of his erection through his jeans. “I want you. I don't care how bloody long that takes. The first second I laid eyes on you, I knew there was something different about you, and I was fucking right.” He smiles at me, reaching down between us to undo his jeans. Already, I can feel my mind unwinding, my body heating with the promise of more, more, more. “So yeah, let's do this. Let's show the world that a boy from the wrong side of the tracks can make himself worthy enough to be with the girl from the right side.”
“Nice speech,” I whisper, as he leans forward to kiss me, stroking his fingers up my spine, rustling the leather of the vest with the movement.
“Now, give your ol' man that morning shag you denied him yesterday.”
“Charming,” I say dryly, but then my body's sliding down the hard length of his and the words die right in my throat.
But it is. And I am. Charmed. By an outlaw.
I might be confused and conflicted and nervous, but … I'm also not sure if I've ever been happier.
If I've ever been happy. Who the hell would've guessed it would take Royal McBride to show me that?
The idea of grilled meat and cold beers has never seemed so terrifying.
I take a deep breath as I pause next to Royal's bike and finger the helmet in my hands. My eyes lift to find Royal staring at me from that earthy brown gaze of his. He holds my stare for a moment and then drops his attention to the ring on my finger.
This is a trial basis, I tell myself and as I savor the salty gray air filling my lungs. Even though it's four o'clock in the afternoon, the sun still isn't out and a sea drenched white mist hangs heavy over the town. For some people, that'd be enough to call off a barbecue. If you live in Trinidad, California though, this is normal enough that hardly anyone blinks a lash.
“This is a trial basis,” I say aloud, lifting my chin and raising a brow so Royal knows I'm serious. I felt so sure sitting on the couch in his dark, quiet house. Standing out here in the open, my nerves are suddenly getting the best of me.
I start to rationalize, organizing my thoughts like a file folder on my computer.