Chapter 11
WHITE BOY
In a bay at our club auto shop, I rest against a wall to watch Deke teach Hunter about Kitty, Bink’s fancy pink-and-black muscle car, they’re working on. The kid’s a natural.
Like she was summoned by my thoughts alone, a certain blonde woman with a bald escort pulls up out front on his bike.
She climbs off, pecks his cheek, and he peels out of the lot a moment later.
Our eyes catch when she enters the garage in flip-flops that slap, slap, slap across the concrete as she makes her way over to me.
“White Boy,” she greets.
I dip my head out of respect. “Bink.”
“We’re almost done,” Deke calls over his shoulder.
“Take your time,” Bink says, propping up beside me in shorts, a pink tank top, and a leather cut that claims her as Big’s old lady.
Not that anyone around would ever think otherwise.
“So, how’s my sister?” she prods, and I groan inwardly, knowing this was gonna happen as soon as I saw her roll up.
Every time I drop by the compound, one of the sisters is asking about Jade, and until Jade’s ready to share her side, I’m inclined to keep it simple.
“Jade’s doing better,” I evade.
Bink crosses both arms over her chest. A tiny smirk tugs at the corner of her glossed lips. “Pixie said she’s smiling a lot today.”
For half a second, my eyes round in surprise, but I school my features and hum noncommittally, even if I’m… I don’t fucking know. “Good,” I grunt and rub a knuckle against my sternum. “She deserves some happy.” And smiling. The more smiling, the better.
Bink bumps her hip into the side of my thigh on account of her bein’ short. “Big said I have to back off and let you handle this, but I want you to know if you need anything, for her, or you, or Hunter, or anything really, that we’re here.”
Well, damn…How am I supposed to respond to that?
“Thanks,” I mumble like a lame motherfucker.
Leaning closer, Bink lowers her voice. “I know you’re probably tired of hearing this, but we didn’t realize it was that bad for her. That she was in that much pain.”
“It’s okay,” I reply, to set her at ease. “Nobody did. We’re figuring it out now. Together.”
Together.
Yeah. That. In bed.
Now, if my cock and these wandering hands would get with the program, then that’d be aces. Waking up, cupping her there. Fuck. That could have gone a million different ways. But her asking me to touch her sometime… I still can’t believe that happened.
Christ.
I jacked off in the shower after our workout, just thinking about it.
Her in those tight black shorts, hugging all those curves, and that black tank top that left nothing to the imagination.
Shhhiiiittt. I had a semi through half our reps.
Thankfully, she didn’t seem to notice. Then she had to go and squat, and when she stood up, those shorts tucked right there, between those thick lips.
I know it’s wrong to ogle a woman, especially when she’s working out, but…
she’s Jade, and in my head, she’s mine and… . Fuck… she’s exquisite.
“She’s lucky to have you,” Bink comments.
“No. I’m lucky to have them.” I jerk my chin at the sweaty kid in ripped jeans and a stained white t-shirt. Pride knocks around in my chest, watching him do his thing. Hunter fits in here. He’s gonna make a fine brother when the time comes.
“That too.” Flashing me a smile, Bink bumps her shoulder into me just as Deke slams the hood of her car shut. Hunter wipes his dirty hands on the grease rag tucked in his pocket and drags his feet over to me as Bink and Deke lapse into a conversation about her vehicle.
Clasping my favorite kid on the shoulder, I squeeze him in hello before pulling him in for a quick hug. I may or may not kiss his gross forehead, but we act like it’s not a big deal. ‘Cause it’s not. We’re just two guys doin’ car stuff. It’s no biggie.
“How’s Mom?” Hunter asks, pitching his balled-up rag on top of a toolbox covered in stickers.
“She’s at work. Doin’ good. I convinced her to make mushrooms and brownies for dinner tonight. I’m grillin’ out. You wanna ride with me to pick out the steaks?”
Hunter turns to Deke and hitches his thumb to my bike parked out front. “Is it cool if I run with White Boy? I’ll be back in a bit.”
With a big, stupid smile, my blond brother waves him off. “Get outta here, kid.”
“Let me grab my backpack first.” Hunter turns and races toward the lounge where we store our shit, but stops short in the middle of the garage, spins to me, and gestures to his messy clothes. “I don’t wanna get you all dirty. I should probably change first.”
Rolling my eyes, I point to the lounge door. “Just grab your stuff. A little dirt never hurt anyone. But wash your hands.”
Hunter nods once and rushes to take care of business. He meets me at my bike when he’s through and grabs the helmet I offer him before climbing on. When I walk us to the street, he rests his hands on my shoulders.
“You ready?” I holler.
Hunter knocks the side of my helmet. “Hell yeah!”
Smiling at his enthusiasm, I rev the engine to put on a show I know Hunter loves, before aiming us toward town—the long way, so we get a little extra asphalt therapy. The sun is warm, the air sticky. There’s nothing sweeter than freedom and the rumble of power under your ass. This is the life.
When we park out front of the store, we make quick work of shopping. There’s no need to dilly-dally. Hunter snatches a few snacks for his room at the clubhouse, well, my room, and we select the best steaks—ribeye, for his mom.
In the baking aisle, Hunter pulls out his phone so we can piece together whatever shit Jade needs to make her brownies. A woman, around my age, smiles and giggles as she passes by with a basket.
“What kind of cocoa powder?” Hunter asks, flipping through a dozen online recipes.
Not knowing how to bake a damn thing, I throw three different types in the cart.
Hunter snorts and rolls his eyes. “Can’t you pick one?”
I arch a brow. “Why can’t you?”
“Fine.” He huffs, swiping through a long-ass recipe that’s more talky-talky than necessary. A million years later, he finally reaches the list of ingredients. “It just says sugar and flour. What kind of flour? Cake, regular, organic?” he rattles off, looking at the endless options.
Not in the mood to take forever, I grab a medium-sized bag of all three and line them up in the cart.
Hunter does that exaggerated teenage eye roll thing again, which communicates all I need to know.
He thinks I’m buying too much. Tough shit.
Men can grocery shop, and if that means picking up too many ingredients, then so be it.
It’s better than not having enough. I can donate the rest to the clubhouse kitchen if Jade doesn’t want them. The sisters bake. They can use it.
When we’re ready to check out, the cart is brimming with so much that there’s no way even half of this is gonna fit on my bike. Standing by the candy display, just in front of the checkout lane, I groan, and Hunter chuckles.
“Let’s put some of this away.” He pulls a box of Jade’s favorite popcorn out, and I slap it out of his hand. It falls back into the cart, and with it comes eye roll number three.
Part of me wants to agree with him and admit defeat, but the other part is man enough to admit when he’s in over his head. So, I pull out my phone and dial the only person I’d call for something like this, and she picks up on the second ring.
“Hey!” she sings.
“Mom, I need you to come down to the store and pick up this mountain of groceries I bought.”
Hunter rips the phone from my hand. “He’s buying too much stuff for Mom.”
“Hey, fucker.” I steal it back and shove the thief. He topples over and catches himself on a display, laughing. I flip him off as I address my mother. “Are you able to come?”
The woman’s laughter echoes when her phone switches to her car speaker. “I’ll be there in five.”
Thank fuck.
Not bothering with goodbye, I hang up and jerk my chin at Hunter to grab Jade some flowers from the small floral section as I load the conveyor.
Ten minutes later, I’ve filled the back of Mom’s car and we’re following her to the house, where they help me unload and put everything away.
Sitting on a stool, munching on a new bag of chips, Hunter rests his forearms on the counter as I rinse plates and load them into the dishwasher. “I’m coming home next week,” he mumbles around a mouthful.
“That’s the plan. If you’re cool with that.”
“Are you moving in then?” he asks.
“No. Why?”
“Because you should.”
Well, ain’t that news to me.
Sliding a handful of silverware into the basket, I shut the dishwasher and face the teen. “Kid, I’m not following.”
Mom and Hunter share a look. Something tells me these two have been talking.
“Oz helped me pack up your room at the clubhouse,” he explains.
Leaning my ass against the sink, I cross my arms over my chest. “And why the hell would you do that?”
“So you can move in here.”
As much as I’d love to do that. I can’t.
“Hunter, the brothers live on the compound. I’m a brother. It ain’t safe for me to move here for good.”
“Then could we talk to Big and all of us move onto the compound?” he asks, sounding far too damn hopeful.
“Why would you do that?”
“To live together. All three of us. You. Me. Mom. You’re into Mom. Mom likes you. We’re already family.”
Well. Fuck.
“It’s not like that between me and your mom.” He doesn’t need to know about this morning. That’s adult shit.
A frown takes over Hunter’s face as he rolls his eyes and points a chip at me. “Bro.”
“Oh. No. Don’t you bro me like I’m one of those dumbasses you talk shit to on your video games,” I scold, sharing in his frown game.
Mom hooks her arm around the kid’s shoulder. “I’m with Hunter on this one. Bro.”
Of course, she is—the meddlesome woman.
I nod to her. “Mom, stay out of it.”
“Two against one,” the teenager butts in, puffing up like a peacock far too damn proud of himself.
“That’s not how this works, punk.”
“If I’m a punk, then what does that make you?
You’re already living with my mom and you’re into her, but you won’t move in with us?
Don’t you want me to have a dad?” A too-bright smile splits this kid’s lips, and those eyes that remind me of his mother’s spark with mischief as he bats them all innocent and shit.
Christ.
“Hunter. What the fuck?”
His head tilts to the side to grind his point home. “Well?”
I look between the intrusive assholes. “Did you two cook this up?”
“No,” Hunter says at the same time my mom replies, “Yes.”
“Well…which is it?”
“Yes. Fine. We did.” Hunter tosses a glare over his shoulder at my mom, who threw a wrench in his plan to lie. “But I want you to move in here.”
“And the dad shit?”
Hunter throws a chip at my chest, and it lands on the floor at my feet before reaching me. “You’re already my dad, idiot.”
My jaw nearly hits the goddamn ground.
“Jesus fucking Christ.”
“He’s right. You are,” the person who birthed me cuts in, grinning wide and annoying.
“Mom. Seriously. This is none of your business.”
She squeezes Hunter’s shoulder. “Yes. It is. He’s been my grandson for years.”
Why are they doing this today? Why… Just… Why?
“Newsflash, I am not old enough to actually be his dad,” I snip.
“So?” Mom challenges, scowling as if she’s disappointed I would say that.
“Yeah. So?” my teenager adds, wiping his greasy hands on his pants.
Grunting at his disgusting habit, I rip a paper towel off a roll and slap it on the counter in front of him.
As he wipes whatever residue is left on his fingers, in the correct place, he announces, “I don’t care how old you are. You’re still my dad.”
Sure, it feels good to hear him say that. Far too damn good, if I’m honest. But I can’t focus on that right now. Not when Jade’s recovering, and what happened this morning happened.
“We need to talk to your mom about this,” I reason, to get these scheming romantics on the same page.
“She’s not ready yet. But when she is, we’ll discuss it, okay?
I promise. Now get your pain in my ass over here and hug me, dammit.
” Waving my kid over, Hunter slides off his stool, smiling like a little shit that ain’t so little anymore.
Rounding the counter, he stops in front of me and puts his arms out straight like he’s allergic to hugs.
Snorting at his ridiculousness, I cuff the back of his neck and drag him in for a genuine embrace. We’re damn near the same height now, so when he pounds my back and I pound his, it’s different from what it was even a year ago. He hit a growth spurt recently.
“Love you, punk.” I chuck his chin when he pulls back.
Hunter chuffs as if I’m making him uncomfortable and returns to his stool to munch as I finish the dishes. It shouldn’t feel so damn good that he sees me as his dad as much as I see him as my son. It’s also a little fucked up, given I’m not all that much older than him. Well, a decade, but still.
Mom puts herself to work, washing laundry and vacuuming, as I tackle everything else.
Hunter pitches in, and before long, the house is cleaner than it has been in months, and it’s time for me to pick Jade up from work.
Mom offers to drive Hunter back to the compound, and the day winds down to perfection once I have my woman wrapped around me on my bike, headed home for a night in, just the two of us.