She returned with a bag of frozen peas. “This should help.”
I circled her wrist and tugged her into my lap. “You always this sweet?”
“Yes,” she nodded once. “Until you piss me off.”
“I’ll try to avoid doing that,” I said and leaned forward, quickly kissing her lips, and immediately going back for more.
“We should have dinner before it gets cold,” she said softly.
I followed her into the kitchen and wanted to pump my fist when my eyes landed on fried chicken, green beans, mashed potatoes, and peach cobbler. “Plates and silverware are on the counter,” she said and turned to get our drinks.
I grinned when I saw her pouring two glasses of lemonade out of the corner of my eye.
“Do you spar often?” she asked once we were seated at the table.
“Almost every day,” I replied. “I’m one of the managers at Pumpers, the gym downtown. We have a training program for fighters, and I spar with at least one of them whenever I work.”
“I thought you worked for Jackson Security,” she said carefully.
“I do and I don’t. My full-time job is at the gym. My brother owns Jackson Security, and he asked me to help him get caught up.”
“That was nice of you. How many brothers and sisters do you have?”
I wiped my mouth with my napkin. “Well, I have one sister, but that’s not what I meant,” I paused and waited until I had her eyes. “I was talking about my club brother. I’m a member of the Blackwings MC.”
I wasn’t sure what kind of reaction to expect from her, so I took a large bite of the delicious fried chicken in case she kicked me out.
She watched me curiously and laughed. “I’m not scared of the bikers in town. Actually, I have a funny story about one of the Blackwings.”
“I’d love to hear it,” I told her, not bothering to mask the tremendous amount of relief I felt when she didn’t seem to care one way or the other about my affiliation with the club.
“One time, when I was seven or eight, Nana left her lights on while we were in the grocery store. While she was trying to figure out why her car wouldn’t start, a man came over to help us. He gave me a sucker before he jump-started her car. He was really nice, and we were on our way home in a few minutes. But before we went inside the house, she told me not to tell Papa what happened. I didn’t understand why but said okay. So, we went inside, and Papa asked me where I got the sucker. I said, 'From the nice big man in leather that Nana jacked off,’ and continued on my way to the back yard to play.”
“You didn’t?” I laughed.
“I did, but in my defense, I didn’t say anything about Nana leaving her lights on. However, she did have to tell him when she explained what really happened after my little mix-up.”
“Do you know why she didn’t want to tell him?” I asked carefully.
“Yeah, I do. Papa said Nana was bad about leaving the lights on. She insisted she wasn’t. The last time it happened, Papa said he’d bet fifty dollars that she’d do it again within six months. They shook on it, and two months later, she was ‘jacked off’ by a Blackwing.”
“How long ago was that?”
“Probably seventeen or eighteen years ago, I think,” she said.
“I wonder who it was. Do you remember his name?”
“No, I’m not sure I ever knew his name.”
“Damn. Do you think you’d recognize him if you saw him?” I asked.
She shrugged. “Depends on how much he’s changed. But I’m sure I’d recognize a picture of him from back then.”
“You’ll have to come by the clubhouse and look at some of the pictures. Actually, we’re having a party Saturday night. Would you like to come?”
When she looked down at her plate, I cursed myself for asking too soon. Instead of backpedaling, I waited to see what she’d say.
“I’d love to, but I’m keeping my friend’s three-month-old son.”
