Chapter 17
Chapter Seventeen
Sunday felt the weight of the room’s tension settle around her like a thick blanket.
Aunt Helen’s sharp gaze flicked over to Texas every few minutes, her worry barely hidden behind her fussing.
His mom’s quiet sighs mixed with the clatter of pans, a familiar rhythm of concern and frustration.
The brothers’ wives, too, exchanged teasing jabs, their laughter light but pointed and definitely aimed at Texas.
Sunday’s instinct urged her to speak up, to shield Texas from the mounting pressure.
But the words stuck in her throat, unsure if her voice would be welcome or just add fuel to the fire.
Instead, she settled for quiet observation, clutching her warm coffee cup like an anchor, drawing calm from its gentle heat as she watched the scene unfold.
Was there a way she could help without stepping on toes? She wasn’t sure yet, but she’d figure it out. For now, the soft murmur of the kitchen and the scent of breakfast were enough to keep her grounded.
“Texas, she needs work boots if she’s going to help out around here,” Kathryn commented, topping off his coffee.
“Mom.” Texas stared at his mother until she stopped yapping her jaw. “Sunday was in an accident five days ago. She doesn’t need to be lifting heavy crates.”
Sunday tried to interject but was gently hushed when Aunt Helen placed a hand on her shoulder. With a quiet sigh, she resigned herself to being talked about—and talked over—which didn’t sit well with her. Maybe this was just how families worked. She wouldn’t know.
When Shelley and DeeDee, Texas’s brothers’ wives, casually moved the two older women out of the way, Sunday bit her tongue to keep from laughing. Both women shot her a quick wink as they set plates of food on the table.
Kathryn’s hand froze mid-pour, the steam from the coffee swirling between them like a tense barrier. She blinked, caught off guard by Texas’s sharp tone.
“An accident?” Kathryn’s voice softened, the edge fading as she glanced at Sunday.
Sunday met her gaze briefly, offering a small, tired smile that said, It’s okay, really.
“Ange, why didn’t you tell us?” his mom asked, shocked that he hadn’t mentioned Sunday being in an accident.
“I just did, Mother.”
“Well, how is she doing?” Kathryn asked Texas.
“Mom, she’s right there. Maybe ask Sunday.”
“Sunday, don’t take offense. I’m always—” Kathryn was cut off by comments coming from around the table.
“In everyone’s business,” Roan said, scooping up some scrambled eggs.
“Ignores the person she’s talking about,” Shelley added, passing the biscuits to Clause.
“Thinks everyone wants to be an apple picker,” Clause added and laughed, buttering his toast.
“Asks for grandbabies daily,” DeeDee chimed in, lifting her coffee cup.
Texas’s dad chuckled as his kids ganged up on their mother. “Okay, you guys need to lay off your mother. She means well.”
Texas glanced at Sunday to see how she was handling his family. He caught her covering her mouth, trying not to laugh. He probably should’ve warned her they were nuts.
“That’s right, she means well. But she’s nosey as hell,” Helen said, shaking a fork at Kathryn.
Sunday lost the battle and burst out laughing.
Hearing the sound, Texas chuckled. It was good to hear her laugh. Handing her the plate of breakfast potatoes, he leaned in and whispered, “You’ll get used to them. Maybe.”
After breakfast, his family asked Sunday to stay at the house while the boys headed off to work. Feeling like she should, Sunday agreed.
Once the kitchen was put to rights, DeeDee and Shelley left for the gift shop, leaving Sunday alone with Kathryn and Helen. She braced herself for the interrogation, but it never came.
Instead, the two older women began offering advice on how to keep Texas in line.
Sunday tried to explain that she and Texas weren’t in a relationship, but both women just smiled and kept talking.
His mom had also given her a list of shops in town where she could get anything she wanted or needed. Sunday appreciated the information. She did need to pick up a few things.
Noticing how the morning had slipped away, Helen and Kathryn asked if she’d like a tour of the orchard’s restaurant and gift shop.
“I’d love one, if you have time,” Sunday replied.
“All we have is time,” Helen laughed, like she was in on a private joke.
“Sunday, you shouldn’t go traipsing around the property in those sneakers,” Kathryn added, eyeing her shoes with mild disapproval.
Glancing down at her beat-up sneakers, Sunday didn’t have the heart to admit they were the only shoes she owned. Instead, she offered a small smile. “I’ll have to grab a pair of boots in town.”
“In the meantime, I’ve got some mud boots that’ll fit you. You can use them while you’re here if you want to.”
“That would be great. Thank you, Mrs. Bossiere.”
“Please, call me Kathryn.” She smiled at Sunday as she headed toward the door. “Come on, we’ll show you around. If you wait on Ange, you might never get a tour.”
She kept chatting as Sunday bent down to change into the mud boots.
Turning from Sunday, Kathryn bit back a laugh.
She’d long hoped her son would find someone to share the next chapter of his life with.
They still missed and loved Lisa, but even she wouldn’t want Ange to spend the rest of his life alone.
And Sunday Mornin just might be the kick in the crotch her son needed.
When Sunday stepped outside, she wasn’t prepared for how vast the property really was. What she expected to be a quick tour turned into an all-day adventure, and she enjoyed every moment of it.
They rode through endless rows of apple trees in one of the UTVs, stopping here and there as Kathryn and Helen pointed out different parts of the orchard.
At the restaurant and gift shop, they filled her up with samples until she thought she might burst. Sunday had no idea so many things could be made from apples—pies, jams, butters, sauces, ciders, even skincare products.
Music blasted through the barn speakers while Roan lay back on a bench, trying to catch his breath. Texas hadn’t missed a step since leaving the farm a month ago. If anything, he seemed faster, stronger—more focused—than the last time they’d trained together.
The rhythmic thud of fists hitting the heavy bag pulled Roan’s attention. He looked over and saw Texas hugging the bag, stilling its swing. Something was weighing on him.
Roan didn’t need to ask. He knew exactly what—or rather, who—was on his brother’s mind. The pretty blonde who’d arrived with Texas had stirred something in him. That much was obvious.
He wondered which one had given up—Texas or the bag. “You done?” Roan asked, but got no answer as Texas kept holding the bag still.
Poor guy seemed to be struggling. Maybe they shouldn’t have given him such a hard time about Sunday. The one thing they hadn’t told Texas—the one thing they should have—was that it was nice to see him with a woman
Seventeen years ago, they watched Texas, and his wife Lisa suffer the loss of their only child just hours after birth. They thought he’d never recover from that crushing blow. But he did.
For a time, Texas and Lisa built a life full of love and happiness. Then, fourteen years later, tragedy struck again when Lisa was killed in a single-car accident. They watched Texas spiral out of control.
Though the family didn’t fully understand his decision to join a motorcycle club, it was the club that pulled him back from the brink. Somehow, it gave them back the Texas they loved.
He refocused himself, becoming even more involved in the orchard. He even bought acreage adjoining the family property and opened a cider mill. They understood the new business venture was his way of filling both his time and his mind.
“No.” Texas shoved the heavy bag back into place and walked over to grab his water bottle. He was trying to work off all the pent-up emotions he’d been wrestling with since kissing Sunday that morning.
“Grab the strike pad. Let’s get another twenty minutes in before we call it a day.”
Roan begrudgingly got up and grabbed the hand pads. He knew he’d need a massage by the time Texas was done with him. Sliding the pads over his hands, he slapped them together.
“Let’s see what else you’ve got, big boy.”
Texas smirked. “I think you’re getting soft now that you’re married, little brother.”
Roan held up the strike pad. Texas struck out with his right foot, connecting solidly and sending Roan stumbling back.
Growling, Roan watched Texas bounce on his feet, waiting for him to raise the pad again. But instead, Roan tossed it aside and grabbed the hand pads.
Holding up both hands, he braced himself for the classic one-two punch. He got what he wanted when Texas jabbed, followed by a sharp right hook. Spinning around, Texas landed a sidekick to Roan’s upper thigh, knocking him off balance.
“Asshole,” Roan snapped at Texas, rubbing his pad-covered hand over his sore thigh just as he spotted his reprieve approaching the barn.
Texas shoved his hair out of his face, silently wishing he’d tied it up before the workout. His brother should be the one working out—not whining over a little tap on the thigh.
Roan pointed his gloved hand toward the open door, sucking air in and out through his nose. His thigh was screaming at him.
“What are you wheezing about, bitch? I’m the one doing all the work,” Texas teased his brother.
Roan pointed behind Texas again. “Sunday.”
Glancing back, Texas smiled as he watched Sunday approach. When she reached him, Texas shot Roan a look, silently telling him to leave. Instead Roan just shook his head and stayed put.
“Did you get a word in edgewise?” Texas asked Sunday. He was pretty sure his aunt and mom had talked her ears off.
“Yes, your Aunt Helen and Mom were very chatty.” Sunday smiled, thinking how quickly she’d realized she was outmanned and outsmarted by the two older women. It was like navigating a minefield with all their questions and information.
“They gave me a tour of the house, the restaurant, and the gift shop before showing me where to find you. They ask a lot of questions.”
Texas shot a look at his brother. “Can you please leave?”
Roan held up his hands in surrender. Texas was killing him with those damn spin kicks. Shaking off the pads, Roan tossed them aside and headed for the door.
“You don’t have to ask me twice. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t, children.”
“Thanks, Dad!” Texas yelled after him.
Texas and Sunday needed to talk about what to tell everyone about why she was with him. His family knew he was in an MC, but they had no idea about the other work he did. If they found out he was risking his life for others, they’d support him, but they’d also be upset.
Texas often had to remind his family that he was a grown-ass man.
He’d already been bombarded with a barrage of questions. How old Sunday was, and whether he thought it was wise to date someone so much younger. It was an argument he hoped to avoid.
His dad had led the charge until Texas reminded him that his mother was ten years younger than his father.
His brothers just made jokes about how one day she’d have to wipe his ass and feed him. Texas laughed along, but deep down, their comments began to gnaw at him.
Finally, he told them Sunday was just a friend. Someone who’d recently been through a bad breakup. He’d brought her to the farm to give her a place to figure things out.
But all that did was spark a whole new barrage of questions.
Once his brothers had left, Texas tugged off the boxing gloves. Setting them aside, he grabbed a towel and wiped the sweat from his face and chest.
Straddling the workout bench, Texas patted the seat beside him. “Tell me what Aunt Helen and Mom asked you.”
Sunday straddled the bench facing him. “Only if you tell me what your dad and brothers asked you.”
Smart cookie, Texas thought.