When I pull up outside of the compound, Wes is waiting out front. My mouth waters as I take him in. Wearing a white tank that shows off his tattoos, his cut over it, a pair of jeans, and his black boots, leaning against the building with a beer in his hand at his hip.

I shut off my car and check my face in the mirror, noticing that my eyes are bright with excitement and happiness. They travel from my reflection to Wes, and his eyes hold me in a trance as I unlock my seatbelt and fumble until I get my door open.

The moment my sandal-covered foot touches the ground, Wes steps away from the building. I clear the door and slam it behind me, and his eyes run over me from head to toe. I left my hair down after I got out of the shower this afternoon, so it dried with messy waves. The dress is the color of buttercups. It has wide straps, and the top of the dress is snug, with buttons down the front, the bottom flaring out at the hips, making it look like I have the perfect hourglass figure.

I let out a long breath and wipe my hands down the front, trying to settle my nerves.

“I don’t know if I’m going to be cool with my boys seeing you like this,” he places a hand on my waist and dragging my body close to his until we’re hip-to-hip. “You look beautiful,” he says as his eyes take me in.

“Thank you.” I smile, placing my hand on the leather of his cut, sliding up to wrap around the back of his neck so I can pull him down to kiss me.

“I should just take you back to your house,” he whispers as his mouth hovers just out of reach of mine.

“Then I wouldn’t get to meet your friend,” I tell him, pressing up on my toes, trying to reach his mouth.

“He’s not important.”

I smile when I finally get the kiss I had been waiting for, and somehow end up with my legs wrapped around his hips and my arms wrapped around his neck, my back pressing into the door of my car. When we finally end our make-out session, he leads me inside and straight to the bar towards a group of guys who are talking.

The moment we’re close, the conversation stops and one of the guys turns to look at us. His hair is low to his scalp, his face ruggedly handsome, almost so much so that it’s intimidating. His eyes sweep over me and heat slightly then drop to the hand Wes has wrapped around my hip. Then they travel up to meet mine again, and this time, the heat is gone and understanding is in its place.

“So this is her, huh?” he asks, looking over my shoulder at Wes.

“Baby, this is Tuck. Tuck, this is July,” Wes introduces us.

“Tuck?” I ask, and Wes chuckles.

“You don’t want to know how I got that nickname.” He shakes his head and sticks out his hand. “It’s nice to meet you. Seems you have my boy strung out.”

“I don’t think so,” I tell him as I shake his hand.

“You wouldn’t.” He looks over my shoulder and smiles as he drops my hand. “So what’s your poison?”

“Oh, I’m not going to drink tonight,” I say, shaking my head as memories of the last time I was here come to mind.

“One shot?” he questions, and Wes squeezes my side then whispers in my ear, “I’ll make sure you don’t challenge anyone to a dance-off.”

“Very funny,” I huff, looking over my shoulder at him and smiling.

*

“Shot, shot, shot,” is cheered, and I shoot back a shot of tequila and slam the glass down on the table then cover my mouth with my hand, wincing as the taste floods my mouth.

“Gahhh, I hate tequila.” I laugh then pick up another shot.

“Baby,” Wes laughs, taking the shot from my hand, lifting it to his mouth and shooting it back then wrapping a hand around the back of my neck and pulling my mouth to his. He presses his tongue into my mouth until I moaned down his throat.

“Get a room,” Tuck says, pouring another shot.

“Fuck off.” Wes smiles, kissing me again, this time below my ear.

“So have you taken July to meet Mama Judy?” Tuck asks, sitting back in his chair and taking a pull from his beer.

“Not yet, I was thinking this weekend,” Wes says, rubbing my shoulder.

“Uh…what?” I wheeze out.

“She has next weekend off, so I figured we could take a ride up to Nashville.”

Holy shit.

“Where is Z?” I ask, changing the subject before the conversation can turn to family and parents.

“He and your girl were supposed to be on their way when you called.”

I frown then pull out my phone and check the time. “I got here over an hour ago,” I say, and my frown grows deeper as I dial her number.

“Hello?” Kayan answers breathlessly then moans and I feel my face heat up.

“I…uh…later.” I hang up and set the phone on the table, whispering, “I think they were having sex.”

Wes and Tuck both start laughing and the music gets turned up, so I look around, noticing more people have shown up, and by more people, I mean more women, all of them wearing close to nothing.

“You good?” Wes asks, and I nod and look at the bottle of tequila when loud explosions fill my ears. Wes and Tuck both shove me under the table. My knees and hands hit the concrete hard, causing me to yell out in pain. Then the table is flipped to its side, blocking my view as women begin to scream, and the guys in the open court start yelling out at each other.

I tuck myself into a ball and cover my head with my hands when I realize they were gunshots. I don’t know how long it lasts, but before I even think it’s safe, Wes is picking me up off the ground and running, with me tucked in front of his body. My eyes are squeezed shut and my pulse is going haywire as I’m set down on a soft mattress.