Page 57 of What He Wants

“Hey, girlfriend,” she said in a groggy voice.

“Did you just get up?” I laughed.

“Yeah,” I heard a rustle of movement and then, “Stop that!” Her remark was followed up with the sound of a slap.

I rolled my eyes. “I take it that you’re not alone.”

Laughter rolled over the phone. “Got my big, strong, biker man here with me,” she confessed. “Stop it!” Another slap.

“Look, why don’t you call me back when you can talk?”

“I can talk now. Ohhh!”

“Jasmine!” I raised my voice.

“I’m sorry, honey. I’m calling to see if you want to spend the day with us over in Skowhegan.”

“Us?”

“Some of the old ladies are going, too. We’re going to do lunch, hair, nails, waxing. Hey, maybe you can get a bikini wax now that you have a man.”

“You’re terrible,” I scolded, laughing. “Maybe my man doesn’t want a clean-shaven pussy.” I had forgotten all about the men sitting in the living room behind me until it grew quiet and I looked over my shoulder to see six pairs of intense eyes on me. I felt a flush spread across my body and spun around with embarrassment, walking further away.

“Honey, take my word for it, men like it clean down there.”

“Well, you would know.”

“Ouch!” Jasmine feigned hurt. “That was a low blow, get it? Low blow?”

Her silly laughter was contagious. “What are you on?” I couldn’t help asking. I knew on occasion that she smoked pot.

I heard her gasp. “Why, nothing! You wound me with your accusations. So, do you want to go with us?”

I thought about what my day had been like so far--the trouble at the diner, and then being shot at. I would have liked to spend the day with Big John, getting to know him better, but the way things were going I suddenly wanted to get away from everything. I needed a spa day to help unwind, and I enjoyed being around the women in the club.

“I’ll go. Are you going to come by and pick me up?”

“Yeah, be there in about thirty minutes.”

I hung up and swung around, slamming into Big John. “Oh!” My hands automatically went to his chest.

“Going somewhere, babe?” His tone was as hard as his expression.

My gaze fell to his sensual mouth, trying not to think about how good it had felt on mine when he was giving me one of his hot, toe-curling kisses. Had he been listening in? “I’ve been invited to a spa day with some of your women,” I explained.

“Old ladies,” he clarified. “My women would be the club sweetbutts.”

I pressed my mouth, hating him at that instant for reminding me why those women were there, knowing that he’d probably slept with every single one of them. Not “slept,” fucked their brains out was more likely. “Is going to the spa allowed?” I couldn’t help asking, slapping my hands on my hips.

He gave me a nod. “Yeah, they won’t be going alone.”

“What do you mean?”

“When the old ladies get together for a girls’ night out or something they don’t go anywhere without a club escort. It’s for their protection, as much as for keeping them out of trouble. There’ll be a couple of prospects on them at all times.”

“Really? Don’t they get tired of being followed around?”

He shrugged. “The prospects keep their distance. The women don’t even notice them.”