All I can do is nod.
Yeah.
Let’s go home.
CHAPTER 20
SNAKE
After we pull up to the compound, I pull in front of my woman, needing her to follow me instead of me having her back like the rest of the drive. I’ve never been so keyed up while on my bike before, all because I didn’t want to miss anything because it could put my woman in danger.
Fuck, no, I’ll never let that happen.
My stomach clenches as we pull around the far end of the warehouse and head toward the make-shift neighborhood we’ve created on the land between the clubhouse and the woods. Even though we haven’t needed to clear more land to build on, the option is there.
Jackal got a great fucking deal. The land alone was practically a steal, and it’s been perfect for the club. We’ve grown and found our own footing in Dogwood Ridge, and amongst the other chapters of the SOMC.
I can’t imagine riding with different colors on my back. I’d bleed for this club; I already have. I’d kill for this club; I already have.
And the club has given so much back to me and my family.
Imagining living a different life is nearly impossible.
When I pull into the driveway of the farmhouse I had built years ago, without even realizing why I was truly building it, I send up a little wish for Graycie to like the house. If she doesn’t, I don’t know what I’ll do.
Bulldoze this one and start over.
Fucking hell. I probably would.
When I look over at Graycie, she’s sitting in Dolly’s car while it idles. Her gaze is locked on the house, and I can see her eyes moving over it and taking in every feature.
Unable to take the suspense a moment longer, I climb off my bike and stride over to my woman’s door. She startles slightly when I wrench the door open, but she doesn’t look away from the house. I crouch down in the open door while my hands shake from the fucking anticipation of it all.
I look over at the farmhouse style single-story home which, for some reason, spoke to me when I was looking over plans. It’s not easy to do, but I really try to look at it through her eyes.
The butter yellow color is cheery, but maybe it’s really dingy? The shutters are working storm shutters and painted black. Maybe the contrast is too much? Should I have just stained them? A light color?
The wrap around front porch has a swing and a seating area. But it’s not symmetrical, the side where the bedrooms are, which have only been guest rooms and an office to me, get sunlight instead of being shaded by the porch. The kitchen and living side, along with where the primary bedroom is located on the backside of the house, have porch access where it wraps around.
Maybe it’s too lopsided? It does look strange to have window boxes on the front windows where there isn’t a porch because it’s off balance. Fuck.
The flowers in the window boxes aren’t even real. I paid good money for good fakes, and I stand by that decision.
Not only do I not have the time, but I don’t want to fucking garden. That shit would drive me up the wall. Some people might find that shit meditative, but I’m not one of them.
Does it make me look lazy? Do they look fake?
I tilt my head as I stare at the window boxes like they’ve personally offended me. I never thought they looked fake before, but what the hell do I know? I chose a fucking unbalanced house my woman will never want to step foot in.
“You hate it,” I deadpan.
Graycie’s head whips around to look at me so fast that her hair goes flying, some of the strands hitting me in the face.
“I do not,” she gasps, her tone offended and filled with incredulity.
“Yes, you do.” I wave a hand in that direction. “You just keep staring at it like it’s a rattle snake and you’re expecting it to bite you at any moment. You hate it.”
“Turner,” she groans and shakes her head like I’m being ridiculous.