you gotta leave the top one undone.” Logan fussed with my shirt. He left it unbuttoned to my sternum, then rolled the sleeves up to just under my elbows. The he instructed me to tuck the front into the waistband of my jeans—but just the front. “There you go. Go look—you look hot.”
Jonah nodded in agreement. I slipped into the bathroom and peered at my reflection in the mirror.
… And maybe Logan was onto something. The shirt didn’t look awkward the way I’d expected; it looked stylishly oversized, and the wide collar slid a little bit to show my collarbones. The eyeliner did bring out my eyes, as Jonah had promised, and my blond hair looked casually tousled without being messy.
I stepped back into my bedroom to see Jonah and Logan both looking very self-satisfied.
“All right,” I said. “You win. I like it.”
Jonah and Logan crowed their victory and high-fived. I ducked my chin and grinned at my shoes—I really was so lucky to be a part of this family.
“Yo!” Raven called from downstairs. “Your ride’s here!”
I thanked Jonah and Logan and hurried downstairs, where Raven and Gunnar were waiting by the front door. Gunnar widened his eyes a little at my appearance—Raven grinned at me, and then immediately turned to Gunnar to see his reaction. Raven laughed and swatted him. “Don’t stare.”
Gunnar flushed. “What? The Kid looks good.”
“Still don’t understand why you guys feel the need to drive me,” I said. “I can just ride there.”
I knew it was a losing argument, though, with the threat of the ex-Crew guys still lurking. The knowledge that they’d been sending me threats even before they jumped me seemed to make my brothers-in-arms’ protective instincts that much more intense—not to mention how I’d hid the emails at first. That had done me no favors.
“And show up to dinner with helmet hair? No way. Besides, Dante wouldn’t want you driving on your own right now. Come on, let’s go.” I followed Raven as he bounced out the front door.
Gunnar drove one of the cages, and Raven gave me shotgun while he leaned over the console to pick my brain about Dante and the date. It was a nice distraction, honestly, and it kept me from getting wrapped up in my own worries about how the night would go.
By the time they dropped me off in front of the Liberty Crew clubhouse, I wasn’t quite so nervous anymore.
Raven crawled into the front seat as soon as I got out of the car. Gunnar honked as he pulled out of the Liberty Crew lot, and Raven leaned out the passenger window so far I thought he might fall out. “Have fun, be safe!” he called.
I rolled my eyes fondly. I felt a little bit babied, sure, but sometimes—sometimes that was nice. It was nice to know I could rely on my club. And that they wanted the best for me.
I rapped my knuckles on the front door of the clubhouse. A little bit of my earlier anxiety came crawling back into my throat, but it was too late now. I was here. No turning back.
After a few seconds that felt like an hour, Dante answered the door.
His broad shoulders nearly filled the entire doorframe. He was wearing slacks with a form-fitting white t-shirt tucked in, the tight short sleeves cuffed—a little casual, a little dressy. The sharp crease on his slacks made him look classic, and confident, and I immediately wanted to hook my thumbs in the waistband and slot myself against his chest.
Dante’s sharp blue gaze lingered on mine, and then slid down my body, slow and obvious. He wasn’t even trying to hide the desire on his face. The open want in his expression made my blood run hot.
“Hey,” he said, low and private.
“Hi.” I tucked a stray strand of hair behind my ear and ducked my chin. Dante’s eyes flashed as he smiled at me—warm, but a little hungry. Promising.
“Is that Heath?” a voice boomed from inside the clubhouse. “Quit standing there gawking and invite him in!”
“Sorry,” Dante said to me warmly. “That’s Dad. He can be a little… excitable.”
“Whatever he’s saying, it’s not true!”
Dante laughed and brought me inside with a hand at the small of my back. The touch sent a little zip of excitement through me—especially the way he did it so naturally. Like his hand was meant to be there.
“Hey!” Mal called from the kitchen as he pulled a cast iron pot from the oven. “Good to see