person before they found out I was with their son? Shit, I wasn’t dressed for the occasion either. I had on my boots, torn jeans, a Henley, and my club vest. If I’d known I was meeting the parents, I would have worn a fucking shirt or something.
Christ, my chest felt tight.
I would walk into any trouble without a problem, but this was different. Fear had my gut twisting.
“I don’t know,” I said just as a short, older woman, who had Lucas’s wild hair, stepped up next to Saint.
“Hello, who do we have here? My, aren’t you a big boy.”
“Mom,” Saint started, curling his arm around her shoulders. “This is a brother of mine from the club. Name’s Wreck.”
“Wade, yeah, uh, call me Wade, Mrs. Storey.”
Saint gave me a surprised look before he covered it with a grin. “Right.”
“It’s so nice to meet you, Wade. Come on in and have some dinner with us.”
“Thank you for the offer, but—”
“Oh, I won’t take no for an answer.” She smiled.
“I found it,” Lucas announced, bounding up the stairs. “It was under the car. I don’t know how it got there.” He looked at all of us. “What’s going on?”
“We’re trying to talk Wade into joining us for dinner,” Mrs. Storey explained.
“That’s a great idea,” Lucas said. He either didn’t see the panic in my eyes or chose to ignore it because he was then shoving at my back. When Saint laughed and moved himself and his mom into the house more, I glared over my shoulder at Lucas.
“I am not havin’ dinner with your parents. What if they hate me?”
His hands fell away when he jerked his head back in shock, but then he smiled wide. “It’s sweet you’re worried, but they’ll love you.”
“Lucas….”
“Nope, you’re coming in. Besides, I’ll miss you if you leave.” He pouted, and I fucking wanted to kiss him.
“Fuck. Fine,” I clipped and stepped into the house.
“Who do we have here?” I heard boomed. Looking up, I saw an older version of Saint sitting in the living room chair.
“Dad, this is… um, well, he’s Zion’s friend from the club.”
His dad stood and walked closer, holding out his hand. I took it and shook. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Storey.”
“You also, son. Maybe you can tell me what goes on at a biker’s club. Zion isn’t forthcoming, and I’ve seen Sons of Anarchy.”
I laughed. “Well, I can tell you it’s nothin’ like that show. It’s a safe place for us to come together and hang out.”
“Hmm, good answer, but I’m sure I’m missing something.”
I shrugged, smiling. “I can’t think of what.”
“Dad, leave the guy alone. He’s here to have dinner and not get questioned about anything.”
Mr. Storey rolled his eyes but said, “All right, kiddo.”
“I’m not a kid,” Lucas grumbled under his breath.
“Lucas, honey, come set the table,” Mrs. Storey called. Lucas ducked into the kitchen as Saint shot out, holding three bottles of beer. I quickly took it, unscrewed the cap and took a big gulp, hoping it’d settle my gut.
I glanced at the kitchen and watched Lucas gabbing with his mom. Both of them were the same height, and now I knew where he got it from. He laughed at something his mom said, his expression soft. A small smile tugged at my lips. I felt myself relax a little, until I looked back at Mr. Storey, and he was watching me like I was an experiment.
Shit.
What had he seen? At least he wasn’t glaring at me or kicking me out. Yet.
Saint sat on the couch, and I quickly took the other spare chair. Saint and his dad went on to talk about a Yankees game, and I stared at the TV, trying to think of ways to get out of there.
“Wreck, guess who came to me last night askin’ if he could join the ranks at Polished Pussies and Penises?”
“Don’t have a clue, who?”
“Wait a second, what’s this about penises?” Mr. Storey asked.
“That you’re one,” Mrs. Storey said as she placed a plate on the table.
I couldn’t stop a grin from appearing. Saint just laughed aloud and slapped his thigh. “Burn, old man.”
“Shut up, Zion.” He glanced over to the table. “Woman, is dinner ready?”
“Don’t you woman me, Gerry, and yes, it is.” She took a seat as Lucas walked out of the kitchen with another plate of something and put it on the table.
“Everyone good for drinks?” Lucas asked, his eyes on me.
“I’m good.” And I was, not only for a drink, but if he