Page 43 of Property of Mongrel

She giggles while nodding. “Betty has mentioned this a few times, but I never thought I’d meet someone who would be a part of my life in that way. I was resolved that I’d probably be a single, crazy cat lady or something.”

“While I’m not averse to pets, it’ll be as a couple, Addy. Now, kiss me so we can go downstairs and see if the cops have arrived yet, because I know Gretchen’s probably chomping at the bit to start those shooters.”

CHAPTER

TWENTY-THREE

Addy

After meeting with the police, Mongrel and I went into the kitchen to help Gretchen. Honestly, I wish I had half her energy, and I consider myself a relatively energetic person. Constance and Maria are currently helping by watching over the cakes she has baking and now, we’re in the dipping room where I’m learning the fine art of dipping cake pops and pretzel rods.

“Have you ever tried caramel dipped pretzels?” I ask as I carefully roll the pretzel rod in some melted almond bark that’s had purple oil-based food color added. “I saw some kid on TikTok do them and it looks really good. He puts a sea salt sprinkle on them when they’re done.”

“No, I haven’t,” Gretchen says. “Can you show me one of his videos?”

Once I’m done with the batch I’m working on, I take off the food service gloves I’m using, pull out my phone then scroll through the videos until I find what I’m looking for. “Here, look at this one,” I reply.

“Holy crap, those look good,” she murmurs. “What do you think, Mongrel?”

“I think maybe around Halloween? Like a play on caramel apples or something?” he replies. “Other than that, less is more, unless you want to start offering customized packages.”

“Yeah, after what happened last time, I think I need to pass,” Gretchen teases. “The cost was far too high.”

“What if you offered them on a pre-order basis? As in, they would have to pay for them up front, and you choose the pick-up location. Don’t the Kings own several businesses? That way, you’d have a club brother around,” I propose.

“That could work,” she muses. “Let me see what Doc thinks.”

We spend the rest of the day baking, cutting out and freezing cake pops, and dipping pretzel rods, once we get the strawberry shortcake shooters perfected. They’re perfection, and after a lot of back and forth with Constance and Maria, Gretchen has settled on a price. They’ll be sold at Constance and Maria’s booth, as will the dipped pretzel rods, leaving the cake pops to be sold out of the pop-up camper.

After dinner, I look at Mongrel and say, “As much as I’ve loved practically spending the whole weekend with you, I need to get home because I have work tomorrow.”

“Can I bring you lunch? I’ve got to drop off the monthly ledgers to all of the businesses, so I’ll be in town,” he questions.

“I only get thirty minutes,” I reply.

“Plenty of time, are you good with eating the lunch special from the diner?” he asks.

“I’d like that,” I admit.

“Let me walk you out to your car,” he murmurs, taking my hand in his.

All throughout the day, he’s managed to find times to touch or kiss me. It’s never been over-the-top by any means, just enough to let me know he’s there. I find I enjoy his attention. Hell, I had a complete meltdown on him, and he took it in stride. Nobody else I’ve ever been involved with has ever done that for me. Actually, they’ve always bailed the first time they saw my house and how spotless it was. Honestly, even if I hadn’t had a shitty childhood, why wouldn’t I want to keep my place clean and organized? Regardless, Mongrel is showing me that I matter and that means more than I can express.

We make it to my car, and I find myself cuddled in his arms. “I hate that you have to go home,” he whispers, his forehead against mine. “But I know you like to get everything organized for the next day.”

“I do,” I admit. “I feel like I focus better or something, and maybe it’s because of before, I don’t know, but it works for me.”

“That’s what’s important, sweetheart,” he replies.

When his lips touch mine, I forget where we’re at and lose myself to his embrace. These past few days have been the longest we’ve been around each other, and while there was drama involved, I can’t believe how comfortable I am around him. It’s as if we’ve known each other forever, instead of weeks. I know I’m falling in love with him and I’m sure there are some who would think it’s too soon, but I’ve dated plenty of frogs out there, so to speak.

Mongrel is a prince. He may be a biker. His club may be morally gray in certain areas, which I don’t know for sure. He’s got his own insecurities, just like I do, and yet… he’s perfectly imperfect for me.

We kiss until we’re both breathless and my body is aching to know him on a more intimate level. Soon, my brain whispers.

“Drive safe, Addy. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?” he whispers.

“Yeah. Thanks again for this weekend. I’ve had the best time ever, and I mean it,” I reply.