My Hero, page 5
Whoa boy. Sloane and Aero were like a match made in heaven.
Hell, the same could be said for Olive and Cue Ball and Dove and Throttle.
“You getting good, or is Sloane just easy to strike out?” Cue Ball teased Rocky.
“Eh,” Rocky shrugged. “I think it’s a little bit of both.” He tossed his glove on the couch, then sat on the arm.
“He’s getting better,” Olive insisted, her confidence unwavering. “I know for sure he will strike out each and every kid next game.”
Throttle reached for Dove, his concern visible in his expression. “You think it was smart for you guys to go outside without one of us with you?” he asked, his protective instincts kicking in.
Dove gestured to the others who had joined us in the clubhouse. “We had Garett, Mark, and Adalee with us,” she reassured him.
It was then that I noticed the camera crew for the first time, their presence a stark reminder of the reality show I had unwittingly become a part of. I couldn’t help but feel a pang of self-consciousness, wondering what moments they had captured while I was lost in my own thoughts earlier.
Dove quickly introduced me to them.
Garett, with his bulky camera, Mark wielding a large microphone boom, and Adalee clutching her clipboard, stood as silent observers of our lively group.
“For the record,” Garett interjected, breaking the silence. “Rocky is one hell of a pitcher, and Sloane chose the correct hobby of reading.”
“Rude,” Sloane called out in mock offense. “I ticked one of them.”
Mark chuckled. “That’s being generous. I think you just hit a huge ass mosquito.”
Through the laughter, Adalee spoke up, her voice cutting through the chatter. “Are you all done with your meeting? We need to do some interviews.”
“Interviews?” Stretch echoed, confusion in his tone.
Adalee nodded, adjusting her glasses. “Production is starting to go through the footage we’ve gotten, and we need you guys to sit down and talk to the camera about it.”
“Kind of like confession time,” Dove remarked, drawing parallels to reality TV.
Adalee nodded in agreement. “Yes, but it’s not like you guys need to tell us your darkest secrets. We just want you to give a play-by-play of things to accompany the footage. I can go over it with each of you individually,” Adalee offered, sensing the confusion in the room.
“What?” Yarder’s voice boomed as he entered the common area, his presence commanding attention.
“We’ll need Aero, Sloane, Dove, and Throttle for the interviews,” Adalee explained, her gaze shifting to Yarder. “The footage from the wedding trip is what we’re focusing on for now. Just a few hours each.”
“A few hours for each of us?” Throttle groaned, clearly unenthused about the prospect of lengthy interviews.
Yarder intervened, his authoritative tone cutting through the murmurs of protest. “Do it all together. We don’t have sixteen hours to waste on ten minutes of airtime.”
“We can do Throttle and Dove together, and then Aero and Sloane together,” Adalee suggested, seeking a compromise.
Yarder nodded in agreement. “Fine.”
“But we’ll need a couple more club members to give feedback,” she added.
“Stretch and Pirate, you’re up,” Yarder ordered. “Try not to be idiots on camera.”
“That’s what he’s been telling us all along,” Stretch smirked. “I think I hear him tell me not to be an idiot in my sleep.”
“And yet you’re still an idiot,” Pirate joked.
Adalee nodded in agreement, ignoring the extra chatter, her demeanor eager to get started. “No problem. We’ll get more than enough footage with them.”
Yarder then turned his attention to me, taking a seat beside me at the bar. “You good?” he asked, his eyes searching mine for any signs of distress.
I nodded, forcing a small smile. “Yup. Just taking everything in.”
Yarder glanced around the room, his gaze lingering on the camera crew. “I guess this isn’t really normal for you. Especially the camera crew.”
“You would be correct about that. I normally work and sleep,” I admitted, a pang of guilt washing over me as I realized I hadn’t informed my employer of my absence.
“I took care of it,” Yarder interjected, his words catching me off guard.
“What?” I questioned, disbelief coloring my tone.
“I talked to your boss and let him know what was going on,” Yarder explained. “He said he couldn’t hold your job for you, but if you decide to go back to work and if there’s an opening, you can have it.”
“If I decide to go back to work?” I echoed incredulously. “I need money to live.”
Yarder leaned back in his chair, his expression unreadable. “I wouldn’t call what you were doing living, babe. I think that was just surviving.”
“Surviving or living, it’s the same thing. You can’t do either without a job,” I countered, my frustration bubbling to the surface. “I need to go back to work sooner rather than later.” Sooner as in tomorrow.
“You go back to work now, and you’re just going to be a sitting duck for Boone and Gibbs,” Yarder warned, his tone serious.
“You know who is trying to kill me?” I asked, my fear escalating at the mention of the names.
“Not one hundred percent certain, but I’d be surprised as fuck if it was someone else,” Yarder admitted, his words sending a shiver down my spine.
“So just tell the police who blew up the garage, and that will be the end of this.” I couldn’t help but blurt out the words, frustration bubbling up inside me like a dormant volcano finally erupting.
Yarder shook his head, his expression somber. “This is not that easy, babe. The police are not going to help us.”
“Who are they going to help? The Boone and Gibbs guys?” I shot back, feeling a surge of anger at the thought of those responsible for the chaos in our lives getting away with it.
Yarder tipped his head to the side, his gaze unwavering. “More than likely, yes. They’ve got a lot more power than a motorcycle club from Texas does.”
“But they tried to kill the club, and now they are coming after me,” I protested, my voice tinged with desperation.
“I doubt either of them dirtied their hands with either of those things. They’re calling the shots, and I’m sure the trail will not lead back to them,” Yarder explained, his tone resigned.
If the police couldn’t help, then who would? “Then what are you guys going to do?” I asked, feeling a sense of helplessness creeping back in.
Yarder’s response was a simple, “Don’t worry about it, Poppy.”
I tipped my head to the side, studying him intently. “You do know all I’m going to do is worry about it, right?”
A small smile tugged at the corners of Yarder’s lips. “I know you are, but I’m hoping you’ll be distracted by all the chaos of the clubhouse that it won’t cross your mind much.”
The chaos around the club was indeed overwhelming, but it was a temporary distraction from the looming threat hanging over us like a dark cloud. “But what about when I’m in the room at night with nothing to worry about except for two guys trying to kill me?”
“I guess I’ll just have to make sure you’re never alone.”
I shifted in my seat, feeling a knot forming in the pit of my stomach. “I don’t even see you come in the room, and the only way I would even know you sleep on the couch is the blanket I have to fold every morning that is draped over it.”
“I’m there,” he said softly, his words resonating with a quiet intensity that sent a shiver down my spine.
Oh, I knew he was there. Each time I folded his blanket, I caught a strong whiff of his cologne, a scent that lingered in the air long after he was gone. All I wanted to do was bury my head in the blanket and breathe him in, seeking solace in his presence.
The day I met Yarder, all I wanted was for him to wrap me in his arms and never let me go. I could tell instantly he was a protector, a man who would do whatever it took to keep those he cared about safe. When he told me he was the president of the MC, it made sense. He was a leader, a man accustomed to shouldering the burdens of others.
“Maybe it would be nice to actually see you for a few minutes and not just see the evidence that you were in the room,” I suggested tentatively, hoping to bridge the gap between us. Sure, I had been pretty much sleeping the past two days, but there were times when I was awake and he wasn’t there.
“I’m a busy man, Poppy.”
“You must be if you can only sleep for a couple of hours a night,” I remarked, unable to shake the feeling that there was more to his sleepless nights than he was letting on.
“Sleep doesn’t come easy for me, never has,” Yarder admitted, his voice tinged with a hint of vulnerability.
“Too many things on your mind?” I ventured, reaching out to him in silent understanding.
“Something like that,” he drawled, his gaze drifting away momentarily before returning to meet mine.
Before our conversation could delve any deeper, Olive’s voice broke through the tension, drawing my attention away from Yarder’s gaze.
“Poppy, come play a game with Rocky. I’m sick of getting my butt kicked by a ten-year-old,” she called from the pool table, her laughter infectious.
Yarder nodded in Olive’s direction. “Go on. Get to know Olive and Rocky.”
But my thoughts were consumed by Yarder, by the enigma he presented, by the emotions swirling beneath the surface. “What if I want to get to know you?” I blurted out, unable to suppress the question that had been lingering in the back of my mind.
“Not much to know, babe. I can guarantee you’ll have a better time getting to know Olive and Rocky,” Yarder replied, his tone casual but his eyes holding a hint of something more.
I didn’t think that was true at all. There was so much I wanted to know about Yarder, about the man behind the tough exterior. But for now, I would play along, biding my time until I could uncover the secrets he kept hidden.
I slid off my stool, feeling a rush of nerves as I glanced at Yarder. “Maybe later, after dinner, when I’m watching a movie, I can get to know you,” I suggested, trying to sound casual despite the butterflies in my stomach.
Yarder didn’t say anything, but the way his eyes sparkled in response sent a thrill coursing through me.
I made my way over to Olive and Rocky, their playful banter already in full swing.
“I hope you are better at pool than Sloane is at baseball,” Rocky teased, a smirk playing on his lips.
Grabbing the pool cue Olive offered, I chuckled.
“Just try to give him a little run for his money,” Olive said and shot me a playful wink. “His head is getting big from being able to beat me, Sloane, and Dove at pool.”
I laughed and ruffled his hair. “Oh, is that so?” I said, egging him on. “Well, rack ‘em up, Rocky, and let me show you what I like to do after work.”
Rocky raised an eyebrow. “After work?” he asked, curiosity piqued.
“Yeah,” I replied with a grin. “I work at a bar, and when we shut down, I like to play a few games of pool to wind down.”
“Yes!” Olive cheered. “You are so going down, buddy!”
As Rocky racked up the balls, he continued to talk trash about beating me, but I was too distracted by Yarder’s intense gaze to focus.
Glancing back at Yarder, I couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something more to his non-answer about watching a movie with me tonight. Was he just being cautious, or was there a deeper reason behind his reluctance to open up?
Lost in my thoughts, I lined up my shot, focusing on the cue ball with laser precision. With a confident stroke, I sent it rolling across the table, the satisfying thud as it collided with the colored ball echoing in the room. But to my dismay, along with the intended ball, the cue ball also found its way into the pocket.
“Uh, you’re not supposed to get the white ball in the pocket,” Rocky laughed, a smirk playing on his lips.
I chuckled sheepishly, feeling a flush of embarrassment creeping up my cheeks. “So, maybe I’m a ringer, but I’m good,” I retorted, trying to salvage some semblance of dignity.
“Just need to warm up, huh?” Rocky drawled teasingly, retrieving the misplaced cue ball from the pocket and taking his position at the table. “Well, let me show you how it’s done.”
“Yeah, yeah, I’ll just watch and learn,” I teased back, unable to suppress a grin.
Thankfully, Rocky’s boasting didn’t translate into success, as he failed to sink any balls on his turn. Instead, he set me up perfectly for my next shot, and I seized the opportunity, sinking the seven ball and proceeding to pocket three more balls in quick succession.
“This is perfect,” Olive laughed.
“Mom,” Rocky moaned. “You’re supposed to be on my side.”
Olive put her arm around Rocky’s shoulders and squeezed. “Well, I am on your side, sweetie, but I think it’s time you learn a little humility. You’ve been winning and winning, so now it’s time to see what it’s like not always to be the winner.”
“Whoa, whoa,” I laughed. “I’ve sunk four balls. Let’s not put the cart before the horse.” I could very well blow this whole thing.
I lined up my next shot and thankfully sunk another ball.
Rocky and I went back and forth for a few shots before there was only the eight ball left for me.
Feeling the pressure mounting, I took a deep breath, blocking out Rocky’s muttered words of doubt. Typical boy, I thought, rolling my eyes inwardly as I focused on the task at hand.
With a steady hand, I aimed at the eight ball, my heart pounding in my chest. As I took my shot, time seemed to slow down, every movement deliberate and calculated. The cue ball struck the eight ball with precision, sending it rolling across the felt-covered surface of the table. And then, as if in slow motion, the eight ball found its mark, disappearing into the pocket with a satisfying clack.
Olive jumped up from her seat, cheering loudly in celebration of my victory. Rocky, though visibly disappointed, couldn’t help but crack a smile as he snapped his fingers in acknowledgment of my skill. “I want a rematch,” he called out, his competitive spirit undiminished despite his defeat.
Turning to face the room, a triumphant smile spread across my face. But it wasn’t until my eyes met Yarder’s gaze that my heart skipped a beat. He was still seated at the bar, a sexy smile playing on his lips as he raised his beer in salute to me.
Returning his gesture with a nod and a playful curtsy, I couldn’t help but wonder what the rest of the night held in store. Olive’s genuine happiness and Rocky’s eagerness for a rematch paled in comparison to the excitement that bubbled within me at the prospect of spending more time with Yarder. If he took me up on my offer to watch a movie later, who knew what the night would bring?
Yarder
Yeah, there was something about Poppy.
Something that drew me to her like a moth to a flame.
If she was close, I needed to be near her.
I wasn’t going to fight it.
Chapter Nine
Poppy
Yarder didn’t show up. At least not when I was awake.
I had stayed up until after eleven, waiting for him, even though he hadn’t said he would watch a movie with me. But the look he had given me earlier spoke volumes—was he going to be there? Maybe?
Disappointment weighed heavy on my chest as I tossed back the covers and stomped into the bathroom, the cool tiles beneath my feet providing a sharp contrast to the heat simmering within me.
I didn’t even know what I was thinking, entertaining the idea that Yarder would voluntarily want to spend time with me. I was just a charity case, a temporary problem for the club to solve. Once they stopped whoever was trying to hurt me, I would be back to just surviving.
I turned on the shower to hotter than Satan’s balls, stripped out of my clothes, and the steam rose around me like a comforting embrace. The water cascaded over my skin, washing away my tension.
I closed my eyes, letting the sensation of the hot water soothe my muscles as I lathered myself with soap. But as I ran my hands over my body, my mind wandered, drifting to thoughts of Yarder.
I couldn’t help but wonder what he would look like out of his clothes. From the glimpses I had caught, I could tell that Yarder was built like a shit brick house under his clothes. You would have to be blind not to notice—lots of muscle, a sculpted body like a god. He was just straight-up sex on a stick.
Lost in my fantasies, I started to touch myself, the sensation of the loofah running over my slick body, sending shivers down my spine as I imagined it was Yarder’s hands, exploring every inch of me with a hunger that matched my own.
A moan escaped my lips as my fingers parted the lips of my pussy, the heat between my legs building with each stroke. I could almost feel Yarder’s touch, his breath hot against my skin as he worshipped me with his hands and mouth.
The pleasure built, coiling tight in the pit of my stomach until it finally spilled over, sending waves of ecstasy crashing through me as I reached my peak. Leaning against the wall of the shower, I struggled to catch my breath, my heart racing in my chest as the aftershocks of my release washed over me.
And then, just as suddenly as the pleasure had consumed me, reality came crashing back in the form of Yarder’s voice calling my name from the bedroom. “Poppy?”
Oh no, busted!
Panic surged through me as I scrambled to compose myself, praying that he hadn’t heard anything.
I stepped out of the shower; my cheeks flushed with embarrassment. I couldn’t shake the feeling that, somehow, he knew what I had just done.
Yarder
I knew that Poppy was pleasuring herself in the shower. I had heard her sweet moans of pleasure when I walked into the bedroom.
I looked around for her when I entered the bedroom, but as soon as I heard the water running, I turned to leave. Then, her moan reached my ears. I should have left as soon as I heard her, but something stopped me. I stayed, listening intently as her soft sounds of ecstasy filled the room, my imagination painting vivid images of water cascading over her lush body, her fingers bringing her to pleasure.
