Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 75342 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75342 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
I didn't know how long it would take to get to that point, but that was okay with me.
"Hey, Fal," I said, shaking my head at him as I moved into the sitting area.
It was right then that Dezi moved in from the backyard, again seeming to lose his shirt, though wearing his cut. I had no idea what he'd been doing out there, but his hair was sweaty, slicked back from his forehead.
He paused on his path toward the kitchen.
"Congrats on the sex, man," he said, making me wince as Fallon's gaze slipped to me.
"The diner girl?" he asked, brow raising.
"Don't," I said, shaking my head.
"Did she happen to, you know, bake anything else?" Dezi asked.
To that, I let out a small laugh. "Yeah, in the truck," I said, tossing the key at him.
He was like a fucking child the way he brightened over the idea of some treats. He practically skipped out of the clubhouse.
"I don't care who you fuck, Malc," Fallon said, shrugging. "But we do need to make sure she doesn't have any connections."
"Connections to what? The fucking Vultures?" I asked. "Are you shitting me?"
"Hey, you and Brooks were the ones to bring the idea to me," he said.
"She's a former baker, current waitress, who is taking care of her brother who had a bike accident," I said, shaking my head. "She's not some kind of plant. And I'm not just fucking her. So easy with that shit."
"Alright, alright," Fallon said, holding up his hands.
Dezi came back through the door, already tearing into the brownies as he balanced the other dessert containers.
"These are banging," he declared. "Cary, man, you want to try some?" he asked, waving a half-eaten brownie at the other prospect who was coming out of the kitchen.
"Kid, you think you get to my age and look like this," he started, waving down at his body, "by eating all that shit?"
"I'll have a pretty honey locked down by then," Dezi said. "Who will love all my upcoming fat rolls. More to love and all that shit," he said, almost dropping the brownies as he tried to open the cinnamon coffee cake for a sniff. "This smells so fucking good. Hey, is this your girl's card?" he asked, pointing toward the one I'd stuck to the top of the banana bread container in case anyone around the club wanted to know who made them.
"Yeah," I agreed, nodding.
"So, I can just... call this number at any time, and she will bake me whatever I want?" he asked, sounding dubious.
"That's generally how a business works," Cary agreed, smirking.
"If you have the stomach for it, and the money to pay for it, she'll be happy to make you whatever you want."
"You think she'd make homemade Rice Krispies?"
"You realize that those are two ingredients," Cary said, shaking his head. "You could make them yourself."
"No, I need them made for me," Dezi said, something that almost hinted at vulnerability in his tone. Interesting. That was interesting. It was maybe the truest thing I'd ever heard him say. I couldn't help but wonder if it spoke of something in his childhood. Either a mom who made him treats, or one who never had. I figured one day I would figure out which.
"I'm sure she could make them," I told him, shrugging.
"Hey, hey you," Dezi said, pointing at our brother Colson's woman Eva as she came out from the hallway. "Eva, right? You're the one with the Cosmic Brownie fetish, right?"
"Well, that's one way to be known, I guess," she said, smiling.
"Here, try one of these," he demanded, grabbing for another brownie as he followed her into the kitchen.
"He'll smile through a mouthful of blood, but you give the man some brownies and he's like a five-year-old kid," Fallon said, shaking his head. "You leaving the dogs here to go see your girl?" he asked.
"Yeah."
"You coming back for them, or should I tell Uncle Wolf to take them home with him later?"
"I'll be back."
Because I was hoping to stay in town, so I was close to Holly's place if she had some freedom to see me.
As it turned out, it was two days later that she had a chance to see me, shooting me a text with her address.
She met me on the driveway of a ranch-style house wearing a big smile, but shuffling her feet. Nervous.
It was stupid, but I felt something similar.
Not for seeing her, but meeting the brother of hers that clearly meant a lot to her.
"I just barely managed to convince Dezi to stay at the clubhouse," I told her, shaking my head as I walked up to her.
"I am working on his order as we speak," she told me as my arms went around her lower back, pulling her against me.
"Rather not be speaking," I told her, sealing my lips over hers, feeling the smile for a second before she started kissing me back, her hands moving up my arms, curling around my neck, making her need to go up on her tiptoes.