Chapter 8
Teddy
“Jesse,” I called, racing out of the bathroom and through the bedroom, “Did you find your shorts—oof!” I slammed into Curtis’s chest as we met in the doorway.
“Mellow,” Curtis ordered, his hands that had caught me at my hips moved to the sides of my neck. “We can show up whenever. There’s no rush.”
“I haven’t unpacked everything yet,” I replied, looking past him at the empty hallway beyond.
“Finn got his sneakers soaked yesterday, and I had to go through all his stuff before I found his other pair this morning. He put on two different outfits that didn’t match, and I had to make him change.
We washed Jesse’s hair last night, but we’re out of their curl cream, and three different stores didn’t have it, so we had to order online, and it won’t get here until tomorrow, but I don’t have time to braid it so I have no idea what they’re going to do—”
“Mellow,” Curtis said again, running his thumbs up the sides of my throat. “Jesse’s hair looks good. Finn is wearing blue shorts and a striped shirt that match fine. Everyone has their shoes on, and they’re all hangin’ out downstairs for you to finish up.”
“Oh,” I said, letting out a long breath. “Okay.”
“You always get like this when you’re stressed out?”
I pulled my head back in surprise. “No.”
Normally, if things were going sideways, I got laser-focused. I was usually the calm in the center of the disorganized, tardy, messy storm. Someone had to be clearheaded, and since I was the grownup, that person was me.
“What do you still need to do?” he asked gently, looking me over.
“Find my black sandals and finish my makeup,” I replied. “Oh, and grab the pasta salad from the fridge.”
“Where are your sandals?”
“In the bottom of a box.”
“Show me which one,” he ordered, his hands sliding away. “I’ll grab them while you do your makeup.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
“Will it get us out the door quicker so you can stop runnin’ around like a chicken with your head cut off?” he asked.
I turned back toward the bathroom and pointed at a box near the dresser. “They’re in that one. I need the black ones, not the brown. Thank you.”
“Does it really matter which color they are?” he called as I went back to the bathroom counter and pulled out my makeup.
“Says the man who’s wearing motorcycle boots when it’s ninety degrees outside.”
“Shoes are shoes.”
“Incorrect,” I called, leaning forward to line my eyes. “I’m wearing a black and white tank top. I need the black ones.”
“You’re wearing blue shorts.”
“They’re denim, and it doesn’t count.”
“Jesus, how many shoes do you have?” he called.
“A lot less than every other woman you know,” I replied, adding mascara. “I have like three pairs of sneakers, one pair of heels, three pairs of sandals, and two pairs of work boots. That’s nothing.”
“Found ’em,” he replied, stepping into the doorway.
I looked at him in the mirror to find him dangling the sandals from his fingers and staring at my ass.
“Done,” I announced. His gaze rose slowly and unashamedly met mine in the mirror.
“There a reason these things are so heavy?” he asked as I turned around.
“They’re Docs,” I replied, taking them from his hand. “I’ve never found a light pair.”
“May as well be wearin’ the work boots,” he muttered as I slid my feet in and hurried past him.
“What’s the holdup?” I joked as I sailed out of the bedroom.
A few minutes later, I was staring at Curtis as he tried to hand me a helmet.
The kids had already piled into Dylan’s truck and were waiting at the curb, which I wasn’t super stoked about.
The kid had barely left his room since we’d been there, and he was only seventeen.
I had no idea what kind of driver he was, and I generally didn’t let the kids ride with anyone under twenty-one, much to Jesse’s dismay.
“They’ll expect you on the back of my bike,” Curtis said, setting the helmet on my head when I wouldn’t take it from him.
“I’m wearing shorts and a tank top,” I replied flatly. “I don’t even have boots on.”
He moved closer as he buckled the helmet at my chin. “You think I’d let anythin’ happen to you?” he asked softly. “It’s about ten minutes of back roads.”
“I…” I looked down at my bare legs. “Fine,” I conceded. Climbing onto the back of Curt’s bike was the least risky thing I’d done in the past week.
I let him tug me toward the bike and waited as he swung his leg over, climbing on behind him as soon as his ass was on the seat.
My palms were clammy as I wrapped my arms around his waist, pressing my front to his back.
Seconds later, we were pulling onto the street, and I closed my eyes, resting the helmet against the Aces insignia between his shoulder blades.
Once upon a time, I’d loved riding on the back of a motorcycle.
My pop had one when I was a kid, and I loved nothing better than the weekends when he’d take me out with nowhere to be, usually ending up at some random ice cream shop or hole-in-the-wall diner.
They were some of my best memories. All that had changed when I’d made the mistake of riding with Mike, who’d thought it was hilarious to scare the shit out of me.
Finn’s father hadn’t had an ounce of self-preservation, and he’d been more than willing to drag me down with him.
I was lucky we’d made it home in one piece.
Curtis must’ve felt my fear, because after a few minutes of the smooth ride, he peeled my left hand from where it was fisted in his shirt and brought it to his mouth, kissing the back before setting it back where I’d had it.
He dropped his hand to my thigh and gave it a squeeze, keeping it there until we slowed into a tight corner.
A few minutes later, I lifted my head to find that we were turning off the road.
Dylan’s truck pulled through a guarded gate ahead of us, and Curtis nodded to the man monitoring the entry as we rolled past him.
I let out a long, relieved breath as I looked around.
The Aces compound was out in the woods down a long, freshly paved driveway.
You couldn’t really see it from the road, even though the buildings were big.
The clubhouse and garage were connected, and there was a sea of Harleys out front, lined up like soldiers.
Further down, there were a bunch of cars parked, and that’s where Dylan drove to while Curtis and I rode toward the bikes.
As soon as he’d parked, I climbed off the motorcycle, trying to hide the way my hands shook. We’d made it in one piece, and he hadn’t done a single thing to make me think that we wouldn’t.
“Hey,” he said, following me as I stepped out of his way. His hands caught me, pushing mine away so he could take off the helmet. “You good?”
“I’m fine.” I looked past him through the sea of parked cars, wondering where the kids were.
“Teddy,” he murmured, drawing me closer. When our eyes met, he cursed. “You afraid of the bike?”
“Mike had one for a while,” I explained vaguely.
I’d tried my best to put those memories behind me, and I didn’t want to relive the ways he’d terrorized me with it.
Thankfully, Curtis seemed to understand, because he just gave a short nod and leaned over to set the helmet on his Harley.
When he turned back toward me, it looked like he was going to say something, but his mouth snapped shut as he looked over my shoulder.
“About time,” a man’s voice called from behind me just as the kids came into view. Jesse was holding Finn’s hand and carrying the pasta salad I’d completely forgotten.
“Hey,” Curtis replied as I turned to look at the man coming toward us. He was older, and his coloring was different, but there was no mistaking that he was Curtis and Draco’s dad. The man was as big as his sons and just as ripped. “Dad, this is Teddy.”
“Teddy,” he greeted with a smile. “Cam. You probably don’t remember, but we’ve met.”
“Sorry,” I murmured, shaking my head as he grasped my hand and gave it a squeeze.
“You were just a little thing,” he explained, lowering his other hand to below his hip. “With huge brown eyes. Looked like a doll.”
I let out a startled laugh. I couldn’t remember anyone ever describing me as doll-like. I’d spent most of my childhood covered in dirt from head to toe from wrestling around with my brothers.
“Mom,” Finn said excitedly as the kids reached us. “Dylan let me shift gears.”
My head jerked to look at Dylan.
“Just into park,” Dylan explained. “Hey, Gramps.”
“Hey, bud,” Cam replied, reaching out to slap Dylan’s shoulders. “And who’s this?”
“These are my kids,” I said, trying not to stiffen as Curtis slid his arm around my shoulders. It was going to be a day of public displays of affection, and I needed to get my shit together. “Jesse and Finn.”
“Nice to meet you both,” Cam said seriously. “You can call me Gramps, like this one does.”
“Hey,” Jesse said with a nod.
“Are you Curtis’s dad?” Finn asked, his head tilted way back to look at Cam.
“I am.”
“You look like him,” Finn announced.
“Thank you, Captain Obvious,” Jesse said under their breath.
Cam laughed as we started toward the large grassy area full of picnic tables and people. There was a row of barbecues and tables weighed down with food along the side of the building, lawn chairs scattered around, and groups of kids running wild through it all.
“Relax,” Curtis murmured into my ear, his lips brushing my jaw.
I nodded. It was all pretend. It didn’t matter if these people liked us.
“Mom, where should I put this?” Jesse asked.
“Oh, I’ll show you,” an older woman said kindly as we passed her. She smiled at Jesse and patted them on the back as she led them toward the tables. “I’m Molly.”
Jesse’s gaze shot to me, and they widened their eyes as they walked away.
“Molly’s Will’s,” Cam explained, making absolutely no sense at all.