Oz lifts the hem of his shirt, exposing his cut abs, and swipes his brow with the material. Oh my with chocolate on top. That was just beautiful.

“A word of advice.” Violet disturbs my gawking and embarrassment rages through me.

“Sure.”

“Chevy, Oz and Razor...they’re trouble. Pretty to look at, but trouble. Getting mixed up with them will hurt you in the end. They’re club boys until their dying breath. Nothing good comes out of it for anyone else. Trust me.”

Rocks crackle under a car tire and, from the passenger side, Olivia examines us as if surprised. I quickly ask, “Do you know what Honeysuckle Ridge is?”

Violet’s head moves so quickly that her hair flies through the air. “Who told you about that?”

She’s spitting daggers at me and I lose my voice. Izzy parks the car near the guys.

Violet leans into me and whispers rapidly, “Honeysuckle Ridge is club business. Very private club business. I’m not even supposed to know. Do not bring it up to anyone else. Do you understand? I like you, Emily, because you’re the first glimpse I’ve had in my entire life that people can leave Snowflake, cut ties with the club and have a normal life. Don’t let them suck you in. Get out of Snowflake as fast as you can.”

When Olivia reaches the porch Violet stops talking. Olivia waves. The two of us act like marionettes as we wave back. Olivia then extends a plastic grocery bag in Violet’s direction. “Nice to see you, Violet. Take this in for me.”

“I’m not staying,” says Violet. “As soon as the car is fixed, we’re leaving.”

“Doesn’t mean you can’t take this bag in for me.” Olivia’s glare chills me even though it’s aimed at Violet. A few seconds pass before Violet snatches the bag and props the door open for Olivia.

“Are you coming?” Olivia asks me.

“In a few.”

With Izzy right behind them, they walk in and I try to ingest the crazy pile of information. Dad told me I’m safe. That the reason that everyone overreacts is because they buy into what the club wants them to believe, but how can the concern and fear in Violet’s eyes be part of a pretend game?

“You okay?” Oz’s boots stomp against the porch stairs as he climbs them. He rests a shoulder against one of the huge logs supporting the roof and wipes his forearm across his brow.

Oz is dirty. Grease streaks across his cheek. Dust causes his arms to be browner than normal. He’s in need of a shower—desperately.

Oz wet.

A warm sensation flutters through my chest. I am officially the most impaired person in the world because I melt into a puddle of goo around this guy.

“I’m fine,” I answer. “Are you okay?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

My lips squish to the side. I dunno. Maybe because we almost kissed and then tore each other’s heads off and you seem perfectly fine behaving as if none of it happened. Which I guess is for the best, but it’s unsettling how Oz can move on so easily from something so life-altering.

Violet’s words about heartache and Oz replay in my mind. I sigh. I’m already a number on his still-growing list.

“You look freaked out,” Oz says. “It’s why I came over.”

My legs flex and the swing creaks as it rocks. It’s a soothing motion that’s welcome in the chaos. “Have you ever seen this ‘other’ motorcycle club?”

Oz’s eyebrow rises with the question and my hand gesture. “Did you air quote an illegal club?”

I shrug because I did.

Oz scans the yard and it’s surprisingly empty. No Chevy. No Stone. To my shock, he defies unspoken personal space barriers and crouches in front of me. He’s so freaking massive that even with me on the swing, he’s only an inch or so below my eye level.

He grabs the swing by the seat and it grinds to a halt. Oz’s fingers brush along the skin of my thigh. My heart stutters. Stupid heart. Stupid short skirt. Stupid deep blue eyes and wild charcoal hair. Stupid, stupid, stupid me for licking my suddenly dry lips.

Oz follows the action. The way my tongue snuck out and because he’s staring so intently, I nervously suck in my bottom lip. He watches that too and those eyes grow dark. Breathing would be good and would possibly ease the burning in my lungs.

Oz drags his gaze to mine. “Our club doesn’t kill people.”

I blink. Kill people? “What?”

“You asked about the illegal club and I saw the look on your face in the truck and then when you were talking to Violet. We aren’t what you think.”

“Okay.”

“Not okay. I need you to know that what Violet said in the truck was a lie. We’re legit. What you see around you, what you will see once Eli returns and allows this place to go back to normal...it’s a family. We take care of each other. Depend on each other. There isn’t a situation we face alone, a need that isn’t met.”

His words sink past my skin, past my muscles and settles into a hollow area in my soul and I shift. I love my parents. More than most people would admit. And Dad’s parents are amazing, but there’s a part of me that wonders what it would be like to belong to something...more.

My lips twitch up, but the attempted grin feels empty. “Next you’ll tell me you gather around a piano and sing Christmas carols.”

Oz chuckles. “Won’t lie, after a few shots, I’ve heard some of the guys sing a few tunes.”