Trip’s stomach growls loudly. I’m also hungry. “What do you say about us ordering some pizza in?”
Bronwyn’s eyes light up. “We can’t live on pizza.” She grins, then declares, “I made Spaghetti Bolognese. Well, Pippa did really, but I did help. I’ve just got to go prepare the pasta and get the garlic bread into the oven.”
Leaving Trip playing with his new toys, I follow her into the kitchen. There’s not much I can do to help, but I get the plates and silverware out and lay the table. It doesn’t take long before she’s ready to plate up.
Neither of us bothers to tell Trip off for having his bear and bike at the table. It’s just remarkable he’s showing an interest. His new toys don’t affect his appetite, and his plate is soon clean, just like mine. When I compliment Bron on the tasty meal she’s provided for us, she blushes, telling me Pippa deserves the credit. Whatever, I’ve enjoyed the food, the homey feel she’s brought to my house, and the ease that had settled between us as we’d eaten together.
Once dinner is finished and cleared up, we spend more time playing with Trip until the kid can’t stop yawning and is ready for bed. But as Bronwyn ushers him upstairs, I chuckle when I see he’s taking both the teddy and motorbike with him.
By the time Bronwyn’s settled him, I’m kicking back on the recliner with a beer in my hand, and have poured a glass of wine for her.
Bron’s face is serious as she enters the room, taking her seat on the sofa. Instead of settling back, she sits forward, her elbows on her knees. “You spoil us.”
“I’m treating you properly,” I retort. Then I take a breath and dive straight into it. “And that’s my role, as your old man, and Trip’s adoptive father.” Her eyes open wide as I grin and inform her, “Club voted on it. I’ve officially claimed both you and Trip.”
She grimaces. I shrug. I’d told her what I’d intended, and when I say I’ll do something, I follow through. Though, in this case, the outcome had depended on my brothers.
“It’s for your protection,” I emphasise, using the words I’d used to persuade her, hating to hide as far as I’m concerned, it’s only too real. Then I grow serious, wondering how much I should tell her. Using the control, I lower the recliner and sit up straight so I can face her. This woman should have been destroyed by what her family did to her, but she’s holding her own, carving out a career, and that takes mettle. I need to treat her as a partner, not as a child, and certainly not as someone beneath me, as her dad had. So, taking a deep breath, I fill her in on our suppositions and our thoughts about the real reason why Doc was proposing to drug his son the night she fled.
Her face pales, and she covers her mouth with her hand as if she’s going to vomit. But I don’t let up. How can you protect someone who doesn’t know they’re in danger? I continue to explain that we believe Doc doesn’t want her back, and that it’s more than possible he wants her permanently out of the picture.
This makes her sink back onto the sofa, as if neither her bones nor muscles can support her. She takes in a deep breath, then, on the exhalation, states, “Because I’m the only one who knows Trip exists.” After a few seconds, a rasping sob comes out of her. But while I expect her to dissolve into tears, after rapidly wiping away any leakage from her eyes, she pulls herself together and sits up taller. “What’s the plan to keep him from getting hold of Trip?”
Proud that she hasn’t given in to negative thoughts, I start to give her the positives. “The club’s going to protect both you and him.”
“Because you’ve claimed me.” She exhales as if the strength’s gone out of her.
I could be a bastard, let her believe that’s the only reason. But if I really want the chance to make things real with her, I can’t let her believe a lie or mislead her. I might not know much about women, but I know things held back can return and bite you at the worst of times.
So, I admit to her, “No.” Immediately, her quizzical eyes land on me. “Looks like a rival, hell, an enemy club of the Kings is involved. We’ve already got a beef with them.” Giving a twisted grin, I explain, “It was them who caused the accident where Winchester, Paint, and I were injured. Despite what we led you to believe, I didn’t actually shoot or stab myself.” I offer a wry grin.
Her eyeroll is up there with the best of them. “As if I thought you were that accident-prone. It was obvious from the start, Short.” Then she thinks for a moment, and it’s impossible to read her expression as she asks, “So the club would protect us out of your hatred for this rival club?”
“The Mojave Devils,” I fill her in.
“Does that mean I wouldn’t have to actually become your ol’ lady?”
Fuck! The thought that I can hear relief in her voice hits me right in the balls. The intensity of the pain coursing through my body makes me realise how much she’s already come to mean to me, and how I wouldn’t want the responsibility for her protection to be left to anyone else but me.
Fuck it. However much it pains me to admit, she’s probably right. To strike a blow at the MDMC, whether she’s really mine or not, probably wouldn’t matter, as that would be our primary objective. And, especially as Trip is involved, many of the Kings would throw down for her. Rattler admitted it himself.You got me at the Mojave Devils.
Gritting my teeth, I force a reply out of my mouth. “Yeah, if you don’t want to be my ol’ lady, then you’ll probably still be safe.”
“So, you’re off the hook.” She sighs softly.
Harshly, I admit, “Don’t fuckin’ want to be off any fuckin’ hook, darlin’.” I tell her the complete truth. “Want you to be mine, and,” I add, softening my voice, “Trip too. Both of you have gotten to me.”
“You’ve done more with Trip today than my parents or I have in eight years,” she observes.
“Which isn’t your fault,” I reply smartly. “Your parents took advantage of you being too young to take responsibility for a child, and hell, from what we suspect now, there was a reason your dad kept you from getting too close to him. Trip, at first, was a liability, a final nail in his coffin if he ever wanted to regain respectability, and more recently, a financial investment. You can’t blame yourself for not being allowed to be a mom to your boy. Your parents made sure you couldn’t.”
She nods slowly. “Pippa said something similar when she came to visit today.” She breathes in deeply, her body tightening as she adds, “She suggested therapy for both me and Trip.”
Fuck, now I owe Saint more than one beer. I owe him the whole fucking barrel. “I think that’s a good idea,” I tell her gently.
“Short?” Suddenly she’s looking at me straight in the eyes, then, chickening out, lowers her gaze and mumbles her next words to the floor. But I still manage to hear them clearly. “Would you wait for me while I get myself sorted out? I don’t see how talking out my problems will help, but I think I’m willing to try. And Trip, well, I could use some pointers on what’s really wrong with my child. Tonight, the cars, the bear… I obviously don’t know what’s actually wrong inside his head, or how much my parents' treatment and neglect have damaged him.”
“Yes.”
“Yes?”
I chuckle softly. “Yes, I’m willing to wait until you get therapy. I’ll wait however long you might need. I’ll even accompany you if that’s what you want. Bronwyn, I never wanted an ol’ lady until you came along, but for some reason you’ve embedded yourself here.” Breaking off, I place a hand over my heart. “I know Trip comes as a package deal. And hell, his reaction to the toys tonight? Well, that gave me a buzz so high, it rivals what I feel when riding my bike.” She probably doesn’t understand what a compliment that is. “The fact you even want to try is making my stomach turn somersaults.” I chuckle softly. “You have no idea how much I want to take you in my arms and hug you right now.”
Shyly, she raises her eyes. “And you don’t know how much I wish I were brave enough to let you.”
She wants to. For now, that’s enough. I can be a patient man when what I want is worth waiting for. I’m only too well aware I’m a big fucker, and it would be all too easy to scare her. Doc controlled her with the power he held over her. I could easily crush her with my size.
