LOLA MCGRAW, AKA CURSED BY A NAUGHTY COOCHIE

The McGraw family is cursed to have loveless marriages and children born out of convenience. My grandmother claims her grandmother seduced a married man, and his wife’s anger unleashed a curse on our bloodline.

“Because my grandmother was a slut, you will never fall in love,” Grandma Erin explained after reading “Cinderella” to my sister and me one night when I was ten and Clover was seven.

I wasn’t sure I believed her. My grandmother lives in a world filled with wives’ tales, conspiracies, and secret societies.

“People called me a witch back in the day,” Grandma Erin shared once, and my dad nodded. “But I’ve been called worse.” My dad nodded about that, too.

My father’s lack of love was what sold me on the curse idea. Duke McGraw is a catch. I knew that much even when I was a kid. I’d look at my friends’ dads with their beer guts, scrawny legs, lame haircuts, and overall lack of cool. Meanwhile, Duke is tall, dark, and handsome. He runs the Blood-Red Suns Motorcycle Club, has cash to spare, and can cook. Yet, no woman has ever wanted to keep him.

My mother was the daughter of a powerful man. Kerrie never loved Duke, even after they made Clover and me. My father was sweet to her and didn’t cheat during the marriage. But he never loved her, either.

Once they did their time to gain my grandfather’s approval—and inheritance—my parents split up. Kerrie married a boring yet doting man and lives happily in Minnesota. Meanwhile, Duke’s heart remains unclaimed.

That’s the curse my great-great-grandmother’s coochie bought upon our bloodline.

Knowing love wasn’t possible, I’ve decided to be practical. Duke wants an alliance with the Rawkfist Motorcycle Club located in the nearby town of Tumbling Rock. The two clubs run this West Virginia county. They aren’t enemies, but they’ve never been friends, either.

Duke started worrying about life after his fortieth birthday. He feels alone at the top, and all those candles on his cake set off an avalanche of stress in him.

Then, recently, he had a run-in with members of the Charleston motorcycle club. I’ve only heard rumors about the large club from our state’s capital. There’s talk of Nazi worshipping and human trafficking. When a few little girls went missing from Charleston park, the cops blamed the club and raided their compound. They never found anything, but those rumors always kept me on guard when I partied around the state. If a Charleston member showed up somewhere I was at, I would flee immediately. Better safe than sorry.

But they had never interfered with this county until the day Duke came home rattled after finding several members riding around the Blood-Red Suns’ Basin Rock territory.

“They’re animals,” Duke muttered under his breath before looking at me with raw intensity. “If those fuckers ever steal this territory from me, pack your shit fast and take Clover and your grandmother to your mom’s place. Don’t stay and try to sell anything. Just go.”

Duke’s been on edge ever since that day. He even thought he was having a heart attack from the stress. Before we learned his chest pains were from a panic attack, I sat in the emergency room with him. My father isn’t a weak man, yet he looked broken that day.

There was something so lonely about him, too. All that pressure rested on his shoulders alone. He didn’t have anyone to truly rely on besides Erin, Clover, and me. What my father needed was an heir. Someone to help him run the club and ensure it would go on if anything happened to him. Duke was a teenager when he started the Blood-Red Suns, building it along with our family-club owned businesses. All that work could be stolen away because he had daughters rather than sons.

That’s why I volunteered to marry whoever Duke thought could save our family from the Charleston club.

“We both know love isn’t in the cards,” I told Duke after we got home from the hospital. “I don’t want to lose everything our family’s worked for to a bunch of evil dipshits from Charleston.”

“Lola, that curse thing isn’t real,” Duke insisted, despite being a terrible liar in his worn-down state. “You and Clover can find love.”

“Sure, I totally will, too,” I replied and squeezed his hand. “Just as soon as you do.”

Duke might have been flipping out over his health right then, but he still unleashed his infamous dad eye roll.

I allowed the topic to drop for a day or two, but I knew the answer was an alliance with the Rawkfist Motorcycle Club. Duke knew, too, but he doesn’t always play well with others. With his ego on the line, my father might not be willing to change without a push from me.

Visiting his house later that week, I cornered him in the kitchen and asked, “What’s your plan? I feel like an alliance with another club increases your numbers and offers protection from outsiders. Am I wrong?”

“Lola, I’ve got this.”

“No, if you did, you wouldn’t have sent Uncle Dallas and his lapdogs to Florida when you need their numbers.”

“You’re wrong,” Duke insisted while sliding my long, dark hair from my shoulders. “I had to send him away to prevent myself from killing my own brother. Dallas was driving me fucking crazy.”

“No argument there, but he took all those human shields with him.”

“It’s not numbers, baby,” Duke said while looking out the large window over the sink. His dark blue eyes held such worry, but his voice remained calm. “I need someone to run the club when I’m gone. Your uncle can’t do it because he’s stupid. The only reason he seems competent when we visit is because he’s surrounded by bigger morons, making him fucking Stephen Hawking in comparison.”

Reaching up, I fixed his thick brown hair like he did mine. “I know you’re tense because you’re swearing so much.”

“I need a president.”

“I’m sorry I wasn’t a son. I’d be an excellent president.”

Duke’s silence proved he was desperate. Would he actually consider training me to take his place?

“I don’t want to be in charge of your stupid club with your stupid men,” I said before he got too deep into that insane idea. “They’re all so stupid.”

Duke finally cracked a grin. “There are too many fatherless men around these parts looking for someone smarter to give them direction.”

“And none of them can be your heir?”

Duke’s smile faded. “I’ve tried several guys. But they can’t boss around the other meatheads in a real way. A weak man will destroy the club from within and leave this territory open for anyone to roll in and claim.”

“What about the Rawkfist club? Will they make an alliance with you?”

“That’s only a short-term fix.”

My father’s morose expression made me uneasy. He had always been the rock of the family. My mom is a ditz. Grandma is overly dramatic. Clover is a weirdo. I’m the loudmouth. The club is filled with meatheads. Amidst so many train wrecks, Duke always stood strong and kept his head on straight.

That day, though, Duke felt beaten down. I hated seeing my powerful father brought to his knees by his own fears.

“After your health scare, you should think positive,” I suggested as I followed him to the family room overlooking a wide cedar deck.

“I’ve worked my entire adult life to build this club,” Duke muttered, staring out at the wooded backyard. “But it’s built on sand, just ready to fall apart.”

“No, you just need to find someone to take over when you’re ready to retire and grow fat.”

“I don’t have a VP for a reason. None of these guys panned out. There’s no doubt they can throw down. But what good is all that brawn and no brain?”

I loved how my father trusted me enough to confide his fears. My mom was never someone who cared about the big picture. Though Kerrie isn’t flat-out dumb, no one will ever confuse her for being smart.

I prided myself in being more sensible despite my occasionally wild persona.

“Rawkfist has young guys. You should make an alliance with them. Say you want one of their guys to be your VP. They’re probably worried about Charleston, too. Why not use their situation to help our situation?”

“I don’t know if I trust anyone knowing our business.”

“I’ll marry whoever they pick to become your VP,” I said, just like I had practiced in my head. “That way, he’ll be family like you were for Grandpa. Plus, I can keep an eye on him.”

Duke frowned at me in his overly protective way. “Do you really want to take a stranger to bed?”

“You did.”

Duke flinched before offering a little smile. “Your mom was hot. As for the marriage part, we usually stayed out of each other’s way. What if this guy is nasty?”

“I’ll close my eyes and pretend he’s someone else while we pork.”

While my dad scowled at the porking visual, I considered the man I’d be fantasizing about while a nasty loser huffed and puffed over me.

Val Mercer.

We met two months ago at a bar in Rockwell, a town located between our two territories. Val’s father is a top guy in the Rawkfist Motorcycle Club. For years, I’d heard stories about Val and his older brother, West. Their little sister Tuesday and I have shared many run-ins. Val’s been circling my orbit for my entire twenty-three years on earth, but we’d never met until that night at Pebbles Drunk Tank.

Holy, moly, I couldn’t believe the stud was real as he strutted into the place. Val looked like a model for one of those outdoor athletic clothing lines. He wore a wife-beater top, blue jeans, and scuffed-up boots. My vagina instantly began panting. His muscled body was a work of art, but his face made my heart hurt. How could any man be so beautiful?

Val walked up to me, offered a breathtaking smile, and said, “We’re both hot. Let’s do this thing.”

Even starstruck, I refused to bow to a man’s ego and snarled, “I’m not a thirsty slut.”

Cocking a luscious eyebrow over his baby blues, he asked, “What kind of slut are you, then?”

I slapped him. Val laughed. We ended up making out for an hour in my truck. After rubbing out pleasure between our denim, he asked to take me on a date so he could get my pants off. I thought about how much I already liked him. We shared a terrific lust. But that was all it could ever be.

No matter how heartbreakingly beautiful, stubbornly vain, and deliciously funny Val proved to be, love would never be in the cards for me.

That’s why I told the handsome hotdog to take a long walk off a short pier.

A quick end was the best for my heart. I could see myself wanting to keep Val, only for him to fall in love with someone else. I’d hate him and maybe trash his bike. Then, I’d gain twenty pounds from gallons of Rocky Road ice cream needed to soothe my broken heart.

Even after blowing off Val, I still gained ten from my self-pity related snacking. But I knew I had done the right thing.

Now, I could do the right thing again by helping to save the Blood-Red Suns Motorcycle Club, my family’s businesses, and everything else Duke created over the years.

Earlier today, our plan got kickstarted when my dad met with the Rawkfist Motorcycle Club.

As I worked the grill at Mama McGraw’s Diner next door to Basin Rock Bar—aka the Red-Blood Suns clubhouse—a dozen motorcycles rolled into town and parked in the pub’s lot.

I couldn’t see who came from the Rawkfist Motorcycle Club. I knew Val’s uncles were the president and VP. His grandfather Jared Sheerer helped found the club and his family had been running it for decades. While I’d heard Court Bayer was a rational leader, I still worried about him fucking with my dad who had chosen to meet them alone.

Rather than allow stress to tear me apart, I focus on working in the family’s diner. I usually cook here a few times a week. I also bartend at my dad’s clubhouse several nights a week. Though I handle much of the bookkeeping for the family and club businesses, I’ve never particularly enjoyed that part of the job.

My grandma manages the family diner. Erin loves talking up the customers. She’s so popular she could live off her tips alone.

Meanwhile, my sister hates working with the public. Clover prefers to manage the meatheads at several club-owned businesses like the moving company and handyman service.

My family might be small, but we’re strong. We can weather this situation together. I just have to keep my head on straight.

While making plates stuffed with chicken fried steak and mashed potatoes, I wonder if Val is next door at the meeting. I assume his older brother, West, has come along. He’s expected to become Rawkfist Motorcycle Club’s next president once Court Bayer retires.

“Your dad’s coming over,” Grandma Erin tells me as she carries a plate of scrambled eggs and hash browns. “Try not to look so scared when you talk to him.”

I don’t feel scared. In fact, I’m fearless! Nothing and no one can stop my momentum! I’ll never be a shrinking violet! Just tell me who to marry and I’ll ride that stranger’s dick to the wedding chapel! My family, the Blood-Red Suns, and this town will be saved!

Despite my fearless nature, I still hurry to meet Duke at the doorway. His expression is difficult to read. My father’s handsome face always seems stern yet with a hint of an impending smile. People see what they want from his face.

As we stare at each other, I don’t dare say anything. He doesn’t speak right away, either. I’m thinking about how my dad needs this plan to work. We all do.

However, I’m still a tiny bit terrified by the thought of riding a gross guy’s dick.

“Did they agree?” I ask when Duke stares at me.

“Yes.”

“So, we have an alliance?”

Duke gestures for me to walk to the back office. I nearly run so I can hear the words as soon as possible. He shuts the door and then locks it for some reason. His expression remains rigid and impossible to read.

“I asked them to patch over the club,” he says in a pained voice.

“Why?”

“I don’t think we can survive if we aren’t a part of their club.”

“But you made this club,” I mumble and step back. “That wasn’t part of the plan.”

“I can’t let Charleston ride in here and take what we’ve built.”

Upset by how he didn’t stick to the plan, I quietly grumble, “So, you’d hand it over to those Tumbling Rock bikers?”

“It’ll be okay,” he says and then shakes his head. “Or maybe we should back out of the plan.”

“Well, you’ve already changed the plan,” I mutter, wondering why he ditched a perfectly awesome strategy.

Duke gives me a dark expression and says, “I met the man who is willing to marry you and be my VP.”

I consider what gossip I know about the Rawkfist club. Back at Pebbles Drunk Tank, Val told me how his brother would be president one day. Val planned to become the VP. His cousin, Ike, would remain an enforcer like his own brother, Otto. I try to remember what other members he mentioned or I’ve heard about over the years.

“Who?” I ask.

Duke rubs his stubbled jaw. “I don’t like him. I doubt I can go through with that part of the plan.”

“You made a deal,” I say and then step back. “Is he gross?”

“Yes.”

“Like mutant gross or like Timmy’s bizarre facial hair kind of gross?”

Duke refuses to smile at me despite his amusement over his club brother’s fetish for creating designs in his beard.

“He’s not physically gross.”

“Oh, thank God,” I exclaim, collapsing into an office chair. “Not to be shallow, but, you know, oh, thank God.”

“He’s a rude shithead.”

“Did he disrespect you?”

“Yes,” Duke mutters and adds, “He said some stuff about you, too.”

“Oh, like negative stuff?” I ask, wondering about those extra ten pounds.

“Inappropriate stuff.”

Narrowing my eyes, I ask, “What’s that code for?”

Duke exhales in that grumpy “I’m not cool with my daughter fucking” way he gets. “He said he was relieved he would be marrying you since he didn’t want to break in a woman.”

“And you were shocked to learn I wasn’t a virgin?” I ask in my most tender voice.

“I’ve caught you with your pants down, Lola.”

Grinning, I offer a shrug and admit, “My stealth moves needed honing in high school.”

Duke remains grouchy, muttering, “I don’t like this guy.”

“For a VP or as a son-in-law?”

“I think he’d be a good VP. Maybe. I don’t know. He’s Court’s nephew. He’s probably not a total waste.”

“Wait, who?”

“Emmett Mercer’s younger boy, Val.”

“No,” I hiss, digging my heels into the ground and shoving backward until the office chair hits the wall. “No, wait, is this good? No, it’s bad. Wait, I’m not sure.”

Duke loses his grumpy face and looks genuinely concerned. “What’s wrong?”

“He’s the opposite of gross. But, um, I don’t know.”

“Do you know him?”

“I know a lot of guys, Duke.”

My father rolls his eyes. “So I’ve heard.”

Panic shoots through me. Was I just handed a gift or a curse?

The upside is obvious. Val Mercer is gorgeous and funny. We could have so much fun together. I’ll have access to his impeccable body. The sex will most definitely be perfection. Our kids are bound to be gorgeous.

However, I’m a McGraw. We don’t get the love-and-hearts part of marriage. Best case scenario, we’re friendly with our spouses, and the sex is great. Worse case, the marriage is like a prison, where we suffer until we’ve served our time and won our release.

I can’t imagine marriage to Val feeling that way. But I don’t know him. Sure, I wake up every day thinking about the sexy bastard who made me laugh and nearly come in my jeans. No other man has interested me since Val marked me with his hot kisses. This arranged marriage seems perfect.

Yet, I’m scared. I know I’ll fall hard for Val. Can he ever truly fall for me, though? Of course not. We’re doomed to fail. If a gross guy did his time with me, I’d be fine when he walked away. With Val Mercer, I doubt I’ll ever recover.