Biker Chick Campout (Rebel Wayfarers MC) by MariaLisa deMora Page B

wanted to do. And with DeeDee,
you never knew what to expect. He’d known her a long time, and she
could be up for a lot of things. He’d suspected he’d get an inkling
of her plans from whatever shopping list she’d thrown together, and
then be able to sort out what he wanted to push back on from
there.
    “Pros.” He heard his— please
God — temporary title called and looked over at the pool tables to see a group of members
looking his way. Worm, another of the many long-time members, that
very longevity a tribute to the worth and value men found in the
club, waggled an empty bottle his way, calling, “Beer, bitch.” With
a nod Hurley bent back to his tasks for the evening, pulling three
bottles from the cooler stashed behind the bar and slipping a
bottle opener from the back pocket of his jeans.
    “On it, brother,” he called.
    ***
    “She’s gonna try to piss you off, but don’t
let her get to you.” That was DeeDee speaking from behind him as
they wound their way through aisle after aisle of the grocery
store. She’d laid claim to his assistance the minute Slate passed
the word along, and the past couple of days it
seemed all Hurley had time to do was tend to chick business and
listen to her talk. Right now she was yammering on about Ruby,
Slate’s old lady, but she wasn’t telling him anything he didn’t
already know. Slate’s dislike of him had bled through to his woman,
and Ruby expressed that dislike every chance she had. Vigorously .
    DeeDee spoke again, still out of sight.
“She’s been cooped up with the twins. ‘Course that’s her own fault,
having four kids all in diapers at the same time.” Her tone
changed, turned musing when she asked, “What was she thinking? Four
kids that close together? Crazy momma.” A sigh, then she called
out, “Hold on. Stop here, let me look.” Brushing past him as he
rolled to a slow stop, she reached out to the shelves and grabbed a
couple of cans, tossing them into the cart. “You just gotta hold
your cool . Gotta let her do her thing, Hurley.
She’ll burn out fast.”
    Turning to look at him, the expression on
DeeDee’s face softened as she registered his displeasure; she
appeared almost regretful. “Don’t look like
that, honey.” Carefully he blanked his features, wiping away the
sneer he was sure he’d been wearing. “You know this is an honor,
right?” She was another who had known him his whole life. Shit,
he’d only stopped calling her Mama Dee a couple of years past. No doubt she thinks it’s a
fine assignment for a piddly little prospect .
    “Yeah, right. Sure I do.” Pushing past her,
he leaned his forearms to the cart handle and continued up the
aisle. “Where to next, DeeDee?” No sound of following footsteps so
he paused and glanced back to see her still planted, unmoving.
Rolling his eyes, he asked, “What?”
    She stared at him for a long moment before
stating firmly, “You know who I am. You know who Ruby is. You
better have learned about Mica and the rest of the gals from
Chicago by now, and I know the boys are long on history, so I trust you have. So how exactly do you
see this as beneath you?” Head tipping to one side, she sighed
heavily. “You see us as unimportant? We’re just the old ladies, so
no big. Ain’t no thang, right?” He straightened and opened his
mouth to speak, but DeeDee raised her voice, cutting him off.
    “Club first, we all know that. Every woman
who hooks her life and love to a man in a club gets where she
stands. And she only stands there for as long as she remembers. Try
to make a man choose, you might not like the
choice he makes. But we women,” —she gestured to herself— “we also
know that we make your lives easier. We know that we matter. We know our men worry and fret, and the less
reason we give them to do that, the more they can focus on staying
healthy and making good decisions. Every time Slate or Jase roll
out there’s a chance they won’t come back, and my job is to