“I’ll take care of her.” He took Rosie from her arms. “You’ve been on mommy duty all morning.” He headed for the hallway. “Sit down,” he said to Ryatt. “I’ll be right back.”
Ryatt dropped into one of the chairs at the kitchen table, but his gaze never left me as I squatted down and peered into the oven again.
“I just assembled the casserole,” I said, pulling it out of the oven and setting it on the stove. “I can’t be held solely responsible for the success or failure of your lunch.”
“Better than the peanut butter and jelly I’d have at home.” Ryatt was sleepy sexy, and his smile hinted at mischief.
Levi joined me and grabbed a serving spoon from the drawer. “It should cook longer, but I know Romeo is hungry.” She grabbed the Tapatío from the fridge.
“Now, you’re talking my love language,” I said. “Where are the bowls?”
Levi pointed to the cupboard. I grabbed four bowls and set them on the counter. Romeo returned and settled Rosie in her baby swing in the corner.
“I’m starving,” Romeo said, curling around Levi and sliding a kiss along her neck.
The small kitchen area was crowded with the four of us clamoring for bowls and forks. I took a step back but then bumped into Ryatt. “Sorry,” I said and smiled at him.
Levi giggled and ducked out from under Romeo’s arm. “Serve yourselves.”
Two minutes later, we all sat at the table. Rosie chewed on her fingers and drool glistened on her petite chin. Romeo and I smothered our tuna casserole in hot sauce.
“Did you get the bike fixed?” Levi asked.
Romeo cracked open a can of soda. “Not yet. Ryatt’s on the Honda from the showroom. We’ll head back over after lunch to finish up.”
“I thought I’d burned out the clutch,” Ryatt said. “But there are other issues.” He glanced at Romeo. “I’d be totally fucked without your help.”
Romeo shoveled another forkful of casserole into his mouth, chewed, and swallowed. “No worries. We’ll get the quickshifter and electronic traction control running smooth, plus all the track day maintenance.” He pointed at me with his fork. “He needs a fast bike to beat you on the track.”
“Never happen,” I said, feeling confident.
“This girl likes to bet,” Romeo said to Ryatt.
Ryatt shrugged. “It would be a stupid bet if you’re assuming I can beat her on the track.”
“Smart boy,” I said, and he smiled.
Ryatt ate slowly, as if he savored every bite of his food. I’d noticed the same thing when we’d gone out for tacos. I’d scarfed down my meal the same way I rode my bike, fast and fearlessly. And tuna casserole drenched in spice probably should’ve had me hitting the brakes.
Levi snorted. “You don’t want to bet with her. Everyone in the MC is poorer because of her.”
Ryatt shrugged, accepting his limitations. “She rides a thirty-thousand-dollar bike built for speed.”
Romeo grunted. “And Cruz has her parking it behind the church.”
I pointed my fork at Romeo. “Only because Hellers are assholes when it comes to their Harleys.”
Levi nodded in agreement.
“Although, on a street race, I’d kick her ass.” Ryatt smiled around a bite of casserole.
“In your dreams,” I said.
He shrugged. “I wouldn’t say you haven’t been there, too, but you weren’t on a bike.” His lips twitched with another smile. “And we weren’t racing.”
The table grew quiet, and my tummy tumbled while my mind careened into wild, reckless thoughts. Thoughts that would only have my heart twisting and my emotions wrecked. He dreamed about me?
“The weirdest dream had Kiss running the NA meeting,” he continued. “The dream was fucked up. Instead of speaking to the group, like a guest speaker would, she called out bingo numbers, and you were mad because Georgia kept eating your snickerdoodle markers.”
