Chapter 2
Mad Dog
“Status Report!” Is barked at me and it takes everything in me to slow my pulse rate.
I’m in my favorite recliner in the common room, eyes closed, dozing a little after spending entirely too long fixing Willa’s front door.
With a bread knife for a screwdriver. Willa may be an independent woman and all but holy shit, how she made it this far with a bread knife screwdriver and a cork bottom espadrille hammer, I have no idea.
“Don’t make me repeat myself, Maggot!”
“Who the fuck are you calling maggot?” I growl, eyes flying open.
I press my calves into the soft fabric of the recliner to get the foot rest down. I’m trying my hardest to not make it look like I’m reverse cow girling this chair but shit, there ain’t no way to look dignified getting out of a recliner at my age.
“You, dickwad!” Pops huffs. “Now, I know you went to Stevie Nicks’ place. How did it go? Did you get a date?” He wags his brows.
“Who’s dating?” Marx says, stomping on the room.
“Not your father,” Pops cackles and I wonder whether punching him in the dick would be a good move.
“Dad?” Marx asks, raising his brow.
I hate when he pulls that move, but dammit, he got that from me so I only have myself to blame.
Letting out a sigh, I sit my ass back down in the recliner. “I went to Willa’s, accidentally kicked in her door, then spent the next two hours rehanging it and apologizing my ass off.” Pops has gone an unhealthy shade of red and I wave at him to let his laughter out before he keels over.
“Jesus, old man.” Marx mutters.
“Hey, enough of the old,” I grumble, but damn, if I don’t feel it.
I was 19 when I knocked up Marx’s bitch of a mother.
I stayed with her because I figured that’s what I was meant to do.
Make her my Ol Lady, all that shit. She was older than me, but definitely not wiser.
She had a crap ton of baggage and I didn’t or couldn’t understand what she needed.
Looking back it was a match made in hell.
It was the best for everyone involved when she up and left.
Forty years on and apart from the short time I was with Rhodie’s mom, the woman who taught me how to love a woman and be a father, the rest of my life has been wrong woman after wrong woman.
My last relationship lasted four years before we drifted apart and she decided to leave me on the side of the road while she went to explore the world.
I ain’t mad about it. My boys needed me and now I got two granddaughters keeping me on my toes and another baby on the way.
Marx rubs his beard, gaze darting between me and Pops. “Son, I’ve already asked for his help. And as you can see, he’s offering sweet FA.” I wave at Pops who appears to have melted onto the recliner next to me in fits of giggles.
“Shit, I ain’t laughed that long and loud since the Big Littles accidentally shot Jules in the dick with a potato cannon.”
“A fucking what?” Marx barks but Pops just waves him away as if that shit is a common occurrence. Probably because it is.
“Look, from the read I got on Stevie -”
“Willa.” I growl.
“Yeah, yeah. She’s all witchy like Stevie Nicks. She’s a cool broad.”
“Don’t call her that, either.”
Pops whistles, rolling his eyes to Marx who’s standing like a gargoyle watching this shit. “Dramatic much?”
I move to get up, “Look, if you’re not gonna help -”
“Yeah, yeah, sit your diabetic ass down. I’m gonna help. But you gotta chill out.” Pops leans back, phone in his hand with the largest font size it can be set to. I may be pushing 60, but at least my messages can’t be read from the goddamn moon.
I stare at him, wondering what the hell has become of my life.
How did I go from single, spending my time helping the prospects and younger brothers find their way in the MC, loving on my granddaughters and all the Ol Ladies the club has managed to collect, to this?
One chance meeting with a gorgeous, tough, younger woman and I’m a mess.
“Trust me. Willa ain’t gonna be easy to woo.”
“You don’t think?” My brow rises.
“Hell no, did you see how high that woman’s walls are? They’re like all the way up.”
I let out a breath. He’s not wrong. I know I haven’t even scratched the surface of what Willa has been through. There’s only one way a woman becomes hyper independent and as good with weapons as Willa.
“So, how do I get past those walls?”
“If it were me?” Marx cuts Pops off, “I’d take it slow.
Get to know her. That’s what I did.” He blows out a breath, “After I messed it up. It was fucking hard and I hated having to take things so slow when all I wanted to do was claim her, make her mine, but it’s worth it.
Lovely trusts me with more than just her safety, she trusts me with her heart. ”
“I really do,” Lovely’s voice says from behind me.
She’s beaming with pride at my boy, and hell, it almost brings a tear to my eye. It took him a long time to get to this point, and I couldn’t think of a better Ol Lady for him. Lovely softens his hard edges and gives him something to fight for.
“Can I just point out that it was my advice that got you to where you are?” Pops grumbles.
“And you’ll do the same for Mad Dog,” Lovely says, patting Pops on his shoulder.
Pops dips his chin before turning his shrewd gaze on me. “Lesson number one. You owe her more than fixing her door.”
“What do you suggest?” There’s a glint in Pops’ eye and I know I’m in trouble. “Two words. Honey. Do.”
I frown. “Honey do?”
“A honey do list, you old bastard.”
“You want me to do her chores?”
“No. I want you to notice what needs doing before she does.”
“I don’t know. She’s pretty independent.” I rub my scruff. Turning up at Willa’s and fixing shit could get me shot. Or even further from my goal.
“Sometimes independent people still need to know that they’re appreciated and that there are those they can rely on,” Lovely offers.
“Take Blanche. Nobody thought she would ever let a man do anything for her after what she lived through. Then Tav burst into her life and showed her that she could trust him.”
Pops points at Lovely. “Exactly that. You’re not making yourself useful to score points.
You’re making yourself useful because that’s what people do for the ones they care about.
” He gives me the eye, “I know you know what I’m talking about.
You’re a protector, Mad Dog. You’d do anything, including lay down your life for the ones you love.
You can still do that with Willa, but you gotta show her you can do that in a way that makes her feel safe. ”
“I’d die before I let anything happen to Willa!” I growl. Even the thought of her being hurt gets my back up.
“Not like that you damn bonehead! I mean, in here.” He thumps his chest.
Understanding dawns on me. Whoever the hell came before me left his mark.
I ain’t gonna erase that. I don’t even want to.
Everything she’s experienced has made Willa…
Willa. The best I can do is make sure I don’t poke at old wounds.
Which means doing something I’ve never been good at when it comes to women. Taking my time.
“Well, that's actually some damn good advice.” I nod in his direction. “Thank you, Pops.”
He clicks his tongue, “And if all else fails, learn to fold fitted sheets. Women love that shit.”
“No one loves that shit.”
“Exactly.”
Willa
“Miss Willa!” Kit yells, running directly at me.
“Miss Kit!” I yell back, arms spread wide waiting to catch the little munchkin.
Kit is a cute kid, and her mother Joy is one of the sweetest people I’ve ever met. It’s funny, I was friendly with my old neighbors, but since Joy, Kit and now Switch have moved in beside me, I’ve been sucked into a large, noisy family. And I ain’t mad at it.
“Guess what happened at school today?” she asks, wide eyed, her grin showing off her missing front tooth.
“Hmmm.” I tap my bottom lip, trying to ignore the wiggly five year old in front of me. “Did that boy who’s been picking on you pee his pants?”
Kit bursts into a fit of giggles and it lights me up from the inside.
I always thought I’d have children. Being an only child to a single mother I knew if given the chance I’d have a passel of kids.
Unfortunately, Diesel always had an excuse as to why it wasn’t the right time.
Turns out it wasn't about the timing, it was about control. Now, at 45 and damn sure perimenopausal, I know I’ll never get the chance to have any of my own.
But I can totally rock the cool aunt vibe with Kit.
“Noooooo. Even better!”
I rear back, holding Kit at arms length. “Even better than peeing his pants? Oh you gotta tell me now. But inside. With cookies.” My gaze flicks to Joy. “If momma says it's OK.”
Kit spins, little hands clasped together as she gives her mother the big eyes. Joy rolls hers, trying to hide her grin. “Just one. I know how Miss Willa likes to make those giant cookies the size of your head.”
“Hey, it’s either eat one giant cookie, or six small ones,” I say, taking Kit by the hand and leading her and her momma into my house.
Kit swings my hand, making my bracelets jingle and the sound puts a little pep in my step.
Diesel never let me wear such things because they were “too loud”.
He had something to say about all my outfits.
Too feminine. Too colorful. Too much skin.
Asshole. I had to be a biker bitch all day, every day.
Leathers, boots, no skin showing, the works.
He didn't want other men looking at me. Well, joke’s on him.
I’m free and can wear all the gypsy skirts and crocheted tops my heart desires.
I lead my gals into my kitchen and they sit their asses at the counter while I bustle around. I love this kitchen. Its country and homey and everything that brings me joy.
“Sooooo, how's your door?” Joy asks, avoiding all eye contact.