“So,” Blade continued, “as per our charter, he needs to have a patched-in member with him whenever he’s on clubhouse premises.”
Oh, fuck. My heart sank all the way to my feet. There was no way I was supposed to play this role. I knew the charter: the chaperone was intended to keep the clubhouse safe when there was a non-member on the grounds. What the fuck was I supposed to do if Dante decided he wanted to cause trouble? There was nothing I could do against a guy of his size, except call for backup.
Blade must’ve seen the disbelief on my face. “Any questions?”
I swallowed hard. Yeah, I had a lot of questions. Such as: why? And: didn’t he see how this was doomed to go horribly wrong? But I knew those wouldn’t go over well, not with Gunnar and Priest and Dante waiting for my confirmation.
“Are you sure?” I asked skeptically.
“You’re doubting my judgment?” Blade asked with his eyebrows raised.
“No,” I said quickly. “I just—don’t you think there’s someone, uh, better suited to that job? With more experience?” And more muscle, I didn’t say, but I knew everyone was thinking it.
“I asked you to do it,” Blade said. “You’re a patched member, same as everyone else in the club, and you’re perfectly capable of doing this job. Right, Gunnar?”
Gunnar nodded. “We wouldn’t assign you to it if you weren’t.”
I flushed. There was no way I could turn them down now. Blade and Gunnar were protective of me, but not in a way that felt condescending or patronizing. It was more like—Blade knew how to push me outside of my comfort zone without asking too much of me. He also knew I struggled with refusing orders, and he wouldn’t ask me to do it if it wasn’t a good fit. So I guess I had to trust his judgment, even if it seemed like a lack of judgment right now…
“Right,” I said. “I understand.”
Dante looked unimpressed with the proceedings. Blade cut his eyes from me to Dante, and then back to me. “Is there going to be a problem with this arrangement?”
“Not at all,” Dante said with a lackluster shrug.
“No, sir,” I said.
Blade glanced between us again, and then at Priest. Priest shrugged, too. Blade sighed. “All right. I’m holding you both to that. Now, as for the details: We’re looking at three months of self-defense training, twice a week, and then the baking lessons once a week.”
“Baking lessons?” I asked. I was so surprised I forgot to be pissed about the situation. “Self-defense and baking?”
“It wasn’t my idea,” Blade groused, holding his hands out in front of him.
“It was Logan’s,” Priest said, shooting a grin at me. “You know he can’t say no to Logan.”
“Right,” I said, but I was distracted, already stuck on another detail.
Three months. Three fucking months I was stuck with Dante. I’d done a lot of grunt work as a prospect: working in the shop, cleaning members’ bikes, fixing up the gym, yard work, grocery runs, all kinds of things. I’d pick another three months of incessant prospecting tasks over this any day. How was I supposed to cope for that long, being in such close proximity to him? One minute I was anxious, the next I was hungry to get closer to him. It was like whiplash every time we were together.
“Remind me what your class schedule is,” Blade said, “so we can start scheduling these sessions.”
“They’re all morning and afternoon classes this semester,” I said. “As long as we’re scheduling things after four, I won’t have any conflicts.”
“Great. That makes it easy.” Blade flipped open a calendar on his desk and furrowed his brow. “All right, Gunnar and I will start scheduling. Kid, show Dante around the clubhouse.”
“Now?” I asked, as nerves gripped me. I’d thought I’d at least get some time to adjust to the idea of being Dante’s chaperone—the title still sounded laughable in my head—but apparently Blade wanted me to jump right in.
“Yeah.” Blade didn’t look up from his calendar. “Now. No reason to wait.”
Finally, Dante turned away from Blade, looking over his shoulder to pin me with that pale blue gaze again. This time it looked like a challenge.
“Kid,” Priest said.
I forcibly tore my gaze from Dante’s, and found Priest’s to be warm and concerned. He looked at me with a deep furrow in his brow, and a slight twist to his lips—he didn’t have to say anything for me to