40. Teller

40

TELLER

I sit at the table, talking with some of the guys as we discuss some local outreach we can do for the community during our lunch break. Razor cracks a joke and we all double over, my sides aching. As I wipe tears of mirth from my eyes, I spot a familiar figure entering the clubhouse. Ayla and Piper.

What is she doing here? Is everything okay?

“Ayla! What a nice surprise!” I call out, unable to contain my delight. I spring up from my seat and hurry over to greet her, drinking in the sight of her like a man parched. She looks radiant, her dark hair tumbling over her shoulders, those piercing green eyes glinting.

Ayla smiles, sending warmth spreading through my veins. “I thought I’d bring you some lunch,” she says, holding up a large takeout bag. The scent of savory sandwiches wafts over, making my stomach growl.

She sets the bag on the table, pulling out stacks of thick deli sandwiches wrapped in wax paper, cold drinks glistening with condensation. My mouth waters. The guys let out appreciative murmurs.

“You didn’t have to do this, but I’m so glad you did,” I tell her earnestly.

I guide Ayla to sit beside me, our legs brushing under the table. Electricity zings through me at the innocent touch. The guys dig in, unwrapping the hearty sandwiches. I pick one up, admiring the artful layers of meat, crisp veggies and tantalizing sauces peeking out.

As we eat, I find myself transfixed by Ayla - the way she throws her head back when she laughs, how her slender fingers grip the sandwich, the shape of her coral lips as she takes a sip of soda. I’m enthralled by everything about her.

As Ayla tells me about her day, I find myself captivated, the stress of the day melting away. Her animated expressions and the way she waves her hands as she talks are utterly endearing. I could listen to her for hours.

The warm intimacy between us is palpable, like a cozy blanket wrapped around my heart. I can’t remember the last time I felt this content, this understood.

Shadow lounges at our feet, his tail thumping happily against the floor. A few of the guys wander over, crouching down to pet his soft fur. Shadow rolls onto his back, tongue lolling out in bliss as they rub his belly.

“Looks like Shadow is a hit!” Ayla jokes, watching the fearsome bikers fawn over the dog like children with a new puppy.

I grin, marveling at how Shadow has managed to charm even the toughest of my members. “Maybe we should make him our official mascot,” I quip.

Ayla laughs, the sound is warm and rich. She leans into me, her head resting on my shoulder as we observe the heartwarming scene. My arm instinctively wraps around her, holding her close.

Razor and Stitch approach our table, their imposing figures casting shadows across the worn wood. I stand up, meeting their curious gazes with a smile. “Ayla, I want you to meet some of my brothers. This is Razor and Stitch,” I say, gesturing to the two burly men.

Razor’s face splits into a grin, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “So you’re the famous Ayla we’ve been hearing so much about,” he says, extending a large hand. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”

Ayla rises gracefully, her hand disappearing into Razor’s as she shakes it firmly. “The pleasure is all mine,” she replies, her voice steady and confident.

Stitch nods, his eyes assessing Ayla with a mix of curiosity and respect. “Teller hasn’t shut up about you for weeks,” he teases, his gruff voice laced with amusement. “I can see why now.”

I feel a flush creep up my neck, but Ayla just laughs, the sound like music to my ears. “Well, I hope I live up to the hype,” she says, her green eyes sparkling with mirth.

As they chat, I watch Ayla with a sense of pride and wonder. She holds her own effortlessly, trading jokes and stories with Razor and Stitch like she’s known them for years. Her quick wit and easy charm have them grinning and laughing in no time.

“How are you liking our little town,” Stich asks Ayla.

She pushes some loose hair back behind her ear. “I’m loving it. Everyone is really nice and I can tell how important community is here.”

A small smile tugs at my lip hearing her remarks.

“Glad to hear it. We’ve worked hard to build up a good community for locals and out of towners. Tank, our founder, really pushed for our members to be the law enforcement our town was lacking. Not every club can say their mission is to be selfless in their community. There’s a lot of greedy clubs who prey on the weak.”

“Yeah, like the Fallen Angels,” Razor comments. Some of the other members inside grumble at the mention of the other club.

“The members of the Fallen Angels are some of the most ruthless bastar-“ I cough stopping them from cursing in front of Ayala. I glare at them not wanting to put a damper on the mood. Razor notices my glare and changes topics quickly. Razor starts to tell a story of getting his bike stuck in a bush and the mood lightens up.

I sigh of relief escapes me as Ayla laughs at the story. I marvel at how seamlessly Ayla fits into my world, how easily she navigates the rough-and-tumble banter of the club. It’s like she was always meant to be here, a missing piece clicking perfectly into place.

Listening to their lighthearted conversation, I realize that my members are genuinely taken with Ayla. Their smiles are warm and their laughter sincere as they trade quips and anecdotes. They treat her with a level of kindness and respect that I’ve rarely seen them extend to outsiders.

As Razor and Stitch eventually bid their goodbyes and wander off, Ayla turns to me, her eyes shining with happiness. “They’re amazing,” she says, her voice filled with genuine admiration. “I can see why you love them so much.”

“Bikers aren’t so bad, huh?”

She laughs.

“Thank you for sharing your family with me.”

I tighten my arms around her, emotion welling up in my throat. “They’re your family now too, sweetheart. You belong here, with us. With me.”

Ayla pulls back just enough to meet my gaze, her green eyes searching mine. I see a flicker of uncertainty there, a remnant of the hurt and fear that she’s carried for so long. But beneath that, I also see hope and a growing trust that takes my breath away. I’m never going to give her a reason again to ever doubt me. Us.

“I’m starting to believe that,” she admits softly, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth. “Being here, with you and the club... it feels right. Like I’m finally home.”

The words sink into my heart, filling me with a joy so intense it borders on pain. I’ve waited my whole life to hear someone say those words, to find a person who truly understands what the Black Wolves mean to me.

And now, against all odds, I’ve found her. This brave, beautiful woman who chooses to stand by my side.

I lower my head, capturing her lips in a searing kiss that says everything I can’t put into words. Ayla responds with equal fervor, her hands sliding up my chest to twine around my neck.

We lose ourselves in the kiss, in the electric slide of lips and tongues, until the need for air finally forces us apart. I rest my forehead against hers, breathing hard.

“I love you, Ayla,” I rasp, the words raw and honest in the charged space between us. “More than anything in this world.”

Ayla kisses me again.

I notice she doesn’t say the words back, but that’s okay. She can say them in her own time. We have nothing but time.