Chapter 19
Chapter Nineteen
The yard vibrated with energy as the long-awaited anniversary party drew in club members, supporters, and curious neighbors alike.
A large banner hung off the side of the clubhouse with a timeline of the club’s history, complete with blown-up versions of the photos I’d given Kenna.
Another banner honored the men we’d lost over the years—on the road, in wars, and to their own personal demons.
Rhetta kicked off the event from a stage in front of the clubhouse. I watched the crowd from my spot near the back, scanning for threats out of habit.
“Welcome and thank you for coming to celebrate the Lone Star Mavericks Motorcycle Club’s fiftieth anniversary.
I’m Rhetta Blackwell, tonight’s emcee and the wife of our fearless leader.
Before we break for dinner, drinks, and a damn good time tonight”—she paused to allow the loud cheers from the crowd—“we have a short video to share about our history and community impact.”
She stepped aside as a video projected on a white screen.
It told the story of our club through brief interview clips, photos, and videos.
It wove in the ways we’d helped the community—from a playground built by Reaper’s construction company in a local park to the run that raised tens of thousands of dollars for the women’s shelter.
I’d known Kenna was a talented interviewer, but the way she stitched together the past, present, and future told our story better than I’d ever imagined.
I tensed when my voice filled the air: “The Lone Star Mavericks Motorcycle Club runs in my blood. It’s a part of my soul.” The screen faded to black with a childhood photo of me standing beside my father in front of the original rundown building.
Hatchet smacked me on the back, and Eva glanced at me with a grin.
“Sorry. I know you hate the attention, but Kenna insisted that this was the perfect way to end the video,” Eva said.
“Where is Kenna?” Hatchet asked, glancing around.
Eva frowned. “I had to send her home halfway through setup.”
My brow furrowed. “Why?”
Eva hesitated. “She’s not feeling well.”
“She’s sick?”
Eva patted my arm. “Not exactly. Her day started with a migraine, and then she got hit with cramps. I sent her home. She’ll be fine. She’s been texting me all afternoon. The woman doesn’t know how to rest.”
“That’s too bad. All she’s been talking about is this party and the damn cake,” Hatchet said, wandering away to the bar.
I hated the idea of Kenna in pain, home alone while we enjoyed the party she’d planned without her. The thought gnawed at me as I made an impulsive decision. I snuck to the back kitchen, cutting off a large piece of the espresso chocolate cake and carefully enclosing it in a plastic container.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Maisie said as she stormed up to me. “I expect this thievery from Dixon, but not you.”
“Calm down. I’m taking a piece to Kenna, since she’s missing out. Eva sent her home. Migraine and cramps.”
Maisie tilted her head. “Well, isn’t that sweet? Let me put together a goody bag for her before the heathens eat all the cinnamon rolls and donuts. How about I grab a to-go box from the buffet, too?”
I smiled. “Thanks, Mais.”
“Stop by the coffee shop and ask Lenora to make her a raspberry iced tea. Raspberry leaf helps with cramping. You might grab her some Advil and a heating pad from the drugstore next door while you’re at it.”
I raised my brows. “You sure that’s not too much?”
She smiled sweetly and patted my chest. “Not for someone you care about, dear.”
I nixed the plan to take my bike, carrying the canvas bag filled with sweet treats and a generous sampling of the buffet to my truck. Gravel crunched behind me, and I turned to see Fuse.
“Calling it a night already?” he asked.
“Just taking some dinner and cake to Kenna. She had to leave early. Knocked down by a migraine and cramps, according to Eva.”
A slow smile spread across Fuse’s face. “That woman is exactly what you need.”
I scowled. “She’s a friend.”
“Pretend all you want. I’ve known you for a long time, brother. I’ve seen you with her. You don’t look at anyone else the way you look at Kenna. Not even Rose.”
I ground my teeth. I pressed my palms to the back of my neck and sighed.
“Fuck. I know. She’s not ready, though.”
“You won’t know unless you make a move. Decide and act, before someone else does.”
“Hatchet likes her,” I argued weakly.
Fuse gave a clipped, dismissive laugh. “Hatchet likes anything with a pair of tits. He’ll never settle down. Don’t lose a good woman because you’re too chickenshit to commit.”
I didn’t respond as I got into my truck, ignoring Fuse’s ripple of laughter at my blatant dismissal.
But his words rumbled through my mind on my way first to the coffee shop for the iced tea and then to Kenna’s house.
I hesitated for a moment outside, worried she’d see this as an overstep.
Before I could change my mind, I shot her a text.
Me:
What are you doing? Are you dressed?
Kenna:
Yes? That’s a bizarre question to ask. I’m just watching TV.
Me:
Stay on the couch. I’m coming in.
Kenna:
Wait? What?
I keyed in the front door code and opened the door to see a shocked Kenna covered with a blanket. Brisket let out a deep woof before dancing on his paws before me with a wagging tail.
The chilly room sent goose bumps across my bare arms as I stepped inside. “Jesus, Kenna. You must have the air set at sixty degrees.”
“What are you doing here?”
I handed her the raspberry tea and wiped my damp hand on my jeans. “How’s your migraine?”
“It’s mostly gone. But, again, what are you doing here?”
I strolled to the kitchen counter, pushed aside a stack of dog-eared true crime books, and began to pull containers from the bag.
Brisket sniffed the air and let out a low, hopeful whine.
“I thought you might want dinner, and I know you want this.” I pulled the cake container from the bag and opened it.
The sweet scent of chocolate espresso floated through the room.
Kenna moaned. “Is that the cake? You brought me cake?”
“You couldn’t stop talking about it. And we both know there won’t be a crumb left once it leaves the clubhouse kitchen. I have donuts and cinnamon rolls, too. How are your cramps?”
Kenna cringed, wrinkling her nose. “Eva told you about that?”
I pulled a heating pad, a bottle of Advil, and a bag of lavender Epsom salts from the bag. “A hot bath might help. Or the heating pad. Wanted to make sure you had something for the pain, too. Wasn’t sure if you had everything you needed, since you just moved here.”
“Who are you? What happened to my tough biker friend?”
I shrugged. “It’s not a big deal. I didn’t want you to miss out on the best part of the party.”
She smirked. “You mean you didn’t think the video was the best part?”
I laughed. “I can’t believe you ended it on me.”
“I can’t help that I’m such a great interviewer that you gave me a golden soundbite.”
I rolled my eyes. “Do you want me to start a hot bath for you?”
“Can I eat the cake in the bath?”
I grinned. “Only if you save me a bite.”
She shook her head. “I hope you brought two slices, because I’m not sharing. I should eat some real food first, though. I was too sick to eat earlier. ”
She slowly stood, trying to shield the grimace of pain on her face.
“Sit,” I commanded. “I’ll bring a dish to you. Would you like the heating pad?”
“That would be great.”
I plugged in the small heating pad and handed it to her.
“Thanks. Usually, I’m not in this much pain, but I have some cysts that have flared up, and I can barely stand,” she explained, looking a little embarrassed.
I nodded. “My sister lived with me when she was in high school. I know how it can be.”
I busied myself in the kitchen, trying to ignore how her gaze followed my every move as I made us each a plate and nuked them in the microwave. Brisket followed hot on my heels, hoping for crumbs. We ate in comfortable silence with the dog staring us down.
“I can fill the tub for you and get out of your hair,” I offered, as I took her empty plate to the counter.
“This heating pad is helping. Do you want to stay and watch a movie instead?”
“Sure. Do you want your cake now?”
She fiddled with the remote. “God, yes.”
I grabbed the cake and a fork from the kitchen before settling beside her on the couch. The space between us was small, and I could feel the warmth of her body. She released a breathy moan after the first bite.
“Just as mind-blowing as I remembered it. Try a bite.” She offered a forkful of the decadent cake to me, and I raised a brow.
“You sure? I thought you weren’t into sharing.”
“It’s the least I can do, considering what I’m about to make you watch.”
I leaned in to take a bite. Our eyes locked for a beat. For a second, my world narrowed to just her—her lips, her eyes, the way her breath hitched as I moved closer. I could have kissed her then. I wanted to. But I pulled back and grabbed the remote instead.
She shrieked. “Give that back!”
“Not until you tell me what movie you’re going to make me watch.”
I held the remote high enough that her adorably short arms couldn’t reach it.
“I was going to introduce you to Twilight.”
“Absolutely not. My brothers would never let me live that down.”
She giggled. “They never have to know. I promise.”
“Liar. You’ll tell Hatchet the first chance you get. And he’ll tell everyone.”
She threw her head back and laughed. “I need to know if you’re Team Edward or Team Jacob.”
“I can answer that without watching the movie. Team Jacob.”
Kenna gasped dramatically, holding her hand over her heart. “Why?”
“Because a sparkling man is fucking ridiculous. And being a werewolf is way cooler. Now we’ve settled that, we can watch something else.”
“Fine. What’s your favorite movie?”
“The Boondock Saints.”
“Let’s watch that, then.”
I raised a brow at her. “It’s dark and violent.”
She rolled her eyes. “I can handle dark and violent. I might even like dark and violent.”
Her words hung between us. I was dark. I could be violent.
I brushed the thoughts away as she pressed play.
Over the next hour and a half, Kenna moved closer.
Halfway through the movie, she leaned against me and fell asleep.
With her head resting on my shoulder, I breathed in her scent—a sweet and earthy floral mix, like she’d bathed in rose petals.
I wanted to wrap my arms around her, to pull her closer and never let go.
But I didn’t. She wasn’t ready. That much was clear. Her heart still belonged to another man—a dead man. A ghost.
After the movie, I carefully carried her to bed and pulled the sheets over her petite body.
Seeing her red hair spread across her pillow, her eyes peacefully closed in sleep, stirred something deep inside me.
I clicked my tongue, calling the dog to follow me out of the room, and softly closed her door.
I stood outside with Brisket for a moment, breathing in the night air. A fire of desire for her coursed through my chest. But there was more to it. I felt a connection to Kenna. A balance. Her fire melted my frost.
I looked to the stars and wondered. Could a woman like Kenna love me? Understand me? Accept the darkness and violence that walked hand in hand with my life choices?
And, more importantly, was I willing to risk everything—my friendship with Hatchet, the club’s unity—to find out?