Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 125531 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 628(@200wpm)___ 502(@250wpm)___ 418(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 125531 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 628(@200wpm)___ 502(@250wpm)___ 418(@300wpm)
“You already asked me that,” she stated.
“What’s goin’ on?” Easy asked when he sidled up next to Fallon, not hiding the fact he was checking her out.
“Just gettin’ her another drink.” Whip busied himself doing just that. He needed another beer himself. Or two.
“What’s a sweet butt?”
He glanced up and noticed Fallon was no longer asking him but Easy.
Christ almighty.
If she gets bent about that answer, the only reason he’d be headed back to The Grove Inn would be to drop her off.
He tried to catch Easy’s attention, but as if in slow-motion, he watched the man open his mouth. Whip almost launched himself across the bar to stop him.
“They help out around here.”
Oh, thank fuck.
“Like employees?”
“Uh… More of a volunteer type of thing,” E answered.
“What do they do?”
Whip coughed loudly and beat on his chest. “Damn, that went down the wrong pipe.”
“What did? Air?” Fallon asked with a tilt of her blonde head. She turned back to Easy.
Easy’s eyes cut from Fallon back to him. Whip hoped his silent message was heard.
E shrugged. “Brother, she’s gonna figure it out eventually.”
Whip mentally groaned. The woman was only going to be in town a few days, she didn’t need to know what a fucking sweet butt was.
“What’s the big deal?” Fallon asked, glancing back and forth from Easy to Whip.
“Ain’t a big deal,” Whip quickly answered before Easy could. “E, Billie’s over there lookin’ for you.”
Easy rolled his eyes. “I ain’t lookin’ for her.”
Fallon glanced over her shoulder in the direction Whip had jerked his chin. She turned back. “She’s already talking to a gentleman.”
Did she just call Scar a gentleman?
Easy just about fell over when he burst out laughing. As soon as he could catch his breath, he said, “That fucker ain’t no gentleman and she can’t do him. Though, she’s chompin’ at the damn bit to take him to his knees and beg for mercy.”
Whip would pay to watch that.
“Why can’t she be with him?”
“‘Cause she’s a sweet butt and he’s a prospect,” Easy answered her, oh-so-fucking helpfully.
“E, is that Tessa over there talkin’ to Castle?” Whip asked.
Easy spun around. “Where?”
“Just saw them head into the bunkhouse together. Trip ain’t gonna like that.” He wouldn’t if it was true. But it wasn’t. “Better check and warn him about fuckin’ with the prez’s sister. We don’t wanna lose him as a prospect.”
Before he could say anything else, Easy was gone.
When he turned back to Fallon, she was doing something on her phone. He finished making her the Jack and Coke, also pouring himself a beer, and when he placed the drink in front of her, she raised her eyes to his.
“According to the Urban Dictionary—”
He groaned.
She read verbatim from her phone, “‘In motorcycle club culture, sweet butts are women who hang around the club and make themselves available for sex.’”
Fucking Google. “That ain’t all they do.”
She lifted her blue eyes again. “You mean that’s not enough? So, tell me, what else do they do?”
“Stuff.”
“Like?”
“Like… Cookin’, cleanin’, whatever needs done.”
“Whatever needs done?”
“Whatever needs done,” he repeated, not liking where this conversation was headed. He had a feeling that destination was about to fuck up his night.
“No matter what it is?”
He scratched the back of his neck. “For the most part.”
“And what do they get out of this arrangement?”
Ah, fuck.
Chapter Fourteen
Fallon watched Whip closely. “That’s not a difficult question.”
Clearly he wanted to avoid the conversation but if it was a big part of the MC culture, she was curious. Were some of the women in the club’s “sisterhood” sweet butts, too? Or were they not included in that close-knit group?
Were they respected or disrespected by the ol’ ladies? Used or abused by Whip’s club brothers?
Whip’s mouth opened and nothing but air escaped before it snapped shut again.
“What do they get out of it, Whip?” she repeated. Since he was reluctant to answer, she could pretty much guess.
“They get to hang out here.”
“Okay…” That couldn’t be all.
Fallon believed every woman had a right to do whatever she wanted to with her body. If they were into having sex with or doing “chores” for bikers, that was on them. She had to assume they weren’t being forced and, like Easy said, it was similar to a “volunteer position.” They were hanging out with an MC because that was what they wanted and had the right to say no, or could leave, at any time.
“And protection,” he added.
“Protection from what?”
He shrugged. “Whatever they need protected from.”
That was a non-answer. “Between that mountain and your answer, I’m beginning to wonder just how unsafe this small town is.”
“Every town’s got its problems.”
That also was a non-answer. For someone who had been refreshingly honest about everything else, those vague answers made her wonder. “Should I be worried?”
“Nope.”
“I’m going to go out on a limb here and—”
“Don’t need to. Whatever you’re thinkin’, you’re probably right.”