CHAPTER 9 - GRIZZ
My second cup of coffee steams in front of me.
The black pool swirling in my mug as Axel froths milk with the coffee machine he insisted we get for the clubhouse.
The high-pitched squeal penetrates my brain, causing a temporary paralysis of concentration.
Frustrated when my plans for the day sit just on the cusp of conscious thought.
“Can you shut that fucking thing off already. It feels like you're stabbing my brain with a knitting needle.”
Axel, Mac, and Blaze all look at me, puzzled at my outburst. Axel smacking the jug on the stainless steel counter, milk drops flying all over him and the machine.
“I like a frothy milk, and one day I'm going to figure out how Sarah makes those flower shapes at the bar.”
Mac rests both hands on the center island of the kitchen. Leaning forward, he holds my gaze. “I’m more concerned why Grizz is talking about knitting needles? You been checking out the local talent at Senior Living Sundays.”
His lip curls in a slow smile while Axel pulls out a stool, sitting next to him. Picking up my phone, I’m on the cusp of throwing it at his big head, ready to deal with a cracked screen if it falls to the floor, when a series of beeps sound out, all of our phones lighting up within seconds.
The motion sensors.
Dropping the conversation, I open the security app, bringing up the cameras, waiting for the image to load.
We have it set to activate for anything larger than a toddler.
House cats kept setting the damn thing off when it was first installed, so we figured it was safe to exclude them.
Occasionally, we have a large dog or deer roam close to the compound, but never people.
We worked with the local council to redirect the town loop walkway from our fence line. Encouraging plant growth on the original path has kept almost everyone at bay. You can see the remains of the fork in the path, but no one leaves the trail. Choosing to stay on the well-maintained scenic route.
Initially, it's just a shadow, but one that is clearly human. Fuck. Just because no rival club has come after us yet doesn't mean it can't happen.
Reaching in the back waistband of my jeans, I pull out my Glock, checking that the magazine is loaded and the safety is on. We all look at our devices, two of the prospects getting the alert and standing at the kitchen entrance waiting for direction.
Just a little closer and – God dammit.
Placing my Glock on the center island, I leave my still hot coffee, hurrying to the back door near the walk-in fridge. Calling over my shoulder as I step into the crisp air, “Shut it down.”
Jogging to the closest perimeter gate, my phone beeps again, but I don't bother to check the message. One of the guys will have sent out a stand-down order to the motion sensor alert.
I can see her just ahead, blonde hair flowing down her back as she crouches near the undergrowth, phone out, oblivious to her surroundings or that I'm even here.
“Don’t touch that,” I shout, her hand reaching out to pluck one of the tiny flowers she’s looking at.
“Jesus fucking christ!” she yells, tumbling forward on her knees, one hand still clasping her phone while the other is now wrist deep in the flowers.
Her panicked eyes dart around, relaxing when they lock on me.
“Why would you scare me like that. Could you just say ‘hey neighbor’ like a normal person?” she huffs.
Helping her stand, “Do I look like I say ‘hey neighbor’ to anyone, let alone someone creeping alongside our fenceline?”
“I wasn't creeping.”
Taking her wrist, I inspect it, seeing the faint red tinge of the stinging nettle rash already starting.
She doesn't make a sound, but I can see her jaw tense as I inspect it.
“Come on, we're going to have to wash this before it gets worse.” Guiding her in front of me, she starts walking, stepping inside the fence gate and standing awkwardly while I secure it.
“Relax, baby,” I purr. “We will sort your hand, and I'll take you back to Jovie.
Unless she's still out there?” Panic flares as I think of her lost in the forest. It can be dense in places, and it's easy to lose direction if you're not familiar with the area, which is why no one strays from the bloody trail.
“No, she's fine. She’s with Sarah back at the bar. I wanted to explore a little while I had the time.” My chest un-tightens, and I take a deep breath, releasing the tension I didn't realize I was holding.
She doesn't know how close I was to calling every member of the Belial Skulls M.C. back to the compound to search for her.
“She doing that wishing jar thing?” My voice a little rough.
We could go back to the kitchen where the rest of the guys are, but I don't want to deal with them staring at everything I do, let alone the ribbing that will no doubt follow when Brynn leaves.
“Yeah,” she laughs. “She was excited for all the glitter.”
I love my brothers as if they're my blood family, but they can be assholes, and I'm not in the mood for their shit. Leading her away from the industrial-looking building, my cabin soon comes into view. Warm, inviting, my perfect sanctuary.
Mumbling, “You can leave your shoes on.” I unlock the front door, opening it wide as she steps past me, gasping as she enters.
“Grizz. This is amazing.”
Standing in the doorway, I rub my hand over the back of my neck. I've never had a woman in my cabin. I've never wanted the space tainted with the presence of another person.
I don’t want the chairs at my small table left out or askew, have to explain why I don’t have any cushions on the sofa, or why I have an old horseshoe hanging over the door.
In my little house, everything has its place.
But the anxiety I should be feeling, that tightness in my chest, it's nowhere to be seen.
Her fingers drag over the wooden table as she looks around. Along the kitchen bench, the back of the sofa, the bookshelf overflowing with stories that let me escape. Every surface painstakingly handcrafted.
The realization that I wouldn't last if I had to sleep in the clubhouse came quickly.
Thankfully, it was summer when I first started construction, so by the time the cooler weather rolled around, I had a wood burner and a bedroll inside four sturdy walls, and I continued to carve and design everything else I needed to live comfortably.
“It's not much, but it's home,” I say, closing the door and walking to put a log on the remaining embers in the fire.
“Did you restore it? I never would have guessed something so quaint would be back here.” She doesn't look at me as she explores, absentmindedly conversing as I watch her move about my space. A space she looks perfectly at home in.
“I built it.” Walking over to the kitchen sink, I grab a cloth, baking soda, and get out my first aid kit. It pays to be prepared when you never know what you could encounter out in the mountains. “After… after I got out of prison, I needed somewhere quiet.”
I've heard the other guys talk about it occasionally, the moment the lady they're talking to realizes they might be getting in deeper than they can handle. I don’t want to look at her face when her eyes lose that fire and turn to fear.
When she realizes I've hurt people before.
Do I justify it and say they were bad? That the world was better off without them living in it.
Or will she say the same thing about me because of what I've done?
You don't spend almost twenty years in prison for a parking ticket.
I see her body stop in the reflection of the window, and I close my eyes, anticipating the latch on the door clicking as she walks out of my life before I've even thought about starting something.
From what I can see, she's a damm good mother, one who should be packing up and getting the hell out of dodge before the big bad wolf sinks his teeth into her.
Dipping my head, I focus on relaxing my shoulders and neck when a small, warm hand rests on my forearm. My eyes flare open, turning to search her face as she looks up at me. Her body so close to mine I can feel the heat radiating off her, the way my skin comes alive under her touch.
“You don't scare me, Grizz.”
Her smile radiates, and I could laugh at the random turn of events.
She hasn't run away.
She stayed.
“Do you think the baking soda will actually work, or is it more of an old wives' tale? It's really starting to sting now.”
Dipping my brow, “Um?”
“The baking soda, Grizz,” she says, laughing.
“Have you forgotten already that I'm a mom.
The number of times I've had to fix Jovie from random scrapes and burns. This is a nettle rash, right?” Holding up her hand, I can see the red swelling start to materialize, not happy with how quickly it's becoming inflamed.
“Your past doesn't scare me either,’ she whispers, leaning into me.
Wrapping my hands around her waist, I lift her onto the kitchen bench, easing her hand under the cold water.
She all but squeaks, and I try to hide my grin.
Focusing on methodically washing her palm and fingers with soap before pushing her knees open and standing between them, not paying attention to the way her chest, her luscious tits, rise and fall in front of me.
Making a baking soda paste, I smother everywhere the nettle touched, only looking at her when I'm satisfied with the coverage.
Her pupils are blown, the same flicker of her tongue wetting her lips that happened in the loading bay.
Her face and body are an open book, and I'm the only one who gets to read it.
Resting both of my hands on top of her thighs, I push them higher up her legs, stopping when I'm less than an inch from her pussy.
Her breath catches, and I can't help the smirk, knowing she reacts so beautifully for me.
Leaning forward, our breaths mingle as we each wait for the other to take the final leap.
She pulls her bottom lip into her mouth, sucking ever so slightly on it.
The way her perfect pink lips would look wrapped around my length floods my thoughts, and I feel my cock grow uncomfortably hard, trapped in my jeans and pressing against the counter.
It's been so long since I've wanted something like this with a woman.
I could get on my knees and beg for her, but I already know I won't need to.
She feels this thing between us, and even if it only lasts the Christmas season, she will be the best gift I've ever received.
A little family to keep safe.
A family of my own.
The shrill sound of a turkey gobbling erupts from behind Brynn, the lust falling from her face as she rolls her eyes, muttering, “Jovie.” Looking down at her baking soda covered hand, her eyes crinkle with warmth. “Do you mind getting my phone from my back pocket?”
Grinning back at her, I firmly move my hands around her hips and palm her ass. The phone in her pocket not hindering my satisfaction in getting a feel of the lush curves I've admired for too many days now.
The turky gobble gets louder now, her phone screen lighting up with notifications from Sarah. A picture of Jovie standing proudly with three little jars of wishes.
“Looks like they're finished. I should probably get back and help them clean up.”
“Let me finish sorting your hand, and I'll give you a lift.” The feeling between us is still there, but the moment has passed. “Why turkeys?” Unable to resist asking why she has such a weird message tone.
“It's Jovie! She changes the settings when I least expect them, and I don't know how to change them back. One time, she changed it to a foghorn that went off in the middle of a doctor's appointment. I hit the poor doctor in the eye when it startled me.”
“You punched the doctor?” I ask, confused by this.
Her cheeks begin to change to a soft pink, a blush creeping up her neck and across her face.
“No,” she groans, staring at the ceiling. “I can’t believe I'm going to tell you this.” Sighing, “I pushed the speculum out, and it hit her. I was getting a pap smear and got such a scare, it shot out, and I gave her a black eye.”
My eyes go wide as I understand what she's saying, bursting out laughing, trying not to make Brynn any more embarrassed than she already is. I squeeze her thighs, caging her in while I try to catch my breath. A fucking black eye. “You have an amazing kid, you know that.”
Leaning back against the backsplash, she laughs alongside me, groaning every now and then as she no doubt remembers it. “She really is the best. Annoying, but I'd be lost without her.”