Chapter 16
Virgil stalked across the Three Kings parking lot as Savage helped me out of the SUV. “Nice set of wheels.”
“Thanks,” Savage said. “It’s Evie’s.”
Virgil raised his brows. “Evie’s? But Evie doesn’t know how to drive.”
“She will.” Savage turned me to face him and cradled my cheek. “I’ll see you later.”
Because Virgil was standing right there, my farewell kiss was short. Far too short.
I walked with Virgil to the front door. “Are Roman and Homer here yet?”
“No. Not yet.” He looked at me. “Why?”
“Because I need to talk to you guys.”
“I think I know what this is about,” Virgil said as he remotely disarmed the alarm before letting me in.
“You do?” I shucked my coat as I walked into Three Kings.
“Yeah. You want to tell us you’re Savage’s Old Lady. Which, duh. He bought you a car. That’s like an engagement ring on steroids.”
There were a lot of things Virgil said that I had to process.
Savage had told me he loved me, but he’d never said anything about me being his Old Lady.
Homer and Roman finally arrived and after they got settled, I took a deep breath and said, “Can I talk to you guys for a minute?”
“Sure,” Roman said. “Everything okay?”
“Better than okay,” Virgil piped in. “Savage bought her a car.”
“He did what now?” Roman asked in surprise.
“Virgil,” I muttered.
Virgil nodded. “And he’s teaching her to drive.”
Homer rubbed his jaw. “Can we get on with this?”
I swallowed my nerves and decided that being quick was the best course of action. “So, uhm. I’m pregnant.”
“Sit down,” Homer groused.
I blinked. “You’re firing me, aren’t you?”
“No,” he all but snapped. “But you look like you’re going to pass out and you might hit your head.”
I raised my brows in surprise but then sank down onto the stool behind the counter.
“So, you’re pregnant,” Roman repeated.
“I’ve got a lot of questions,” Virgil stated.
“I’ll draw you a diagram,” I said.
Virgil’s brow furrowed at my remark. “Did you just imply that I don’t know how babies are made?”
I couldn’t hold in my giggle.
“She’s teasing me,” Virgil said to his brothers with a grin.
“Yeah, I see that,” Roman added with a laugh.
Homer remained steadfastly stoic.
My smile slipped and I sobered.
“How far along are you?” Roman asked.
“I’m not sure. I think about five weeks. Savage is going to take me to the doctor to find out.”
“Five weeks,” Homer repeated.
I saw them put the puzzle pieces together, their expressions clearing in understanding when they realized the baby wasn’t Savage’s.
“Who’s the father?” Virgil asked.
Homer smacked his head. “Tact.”
“ You’re telling me to have tact? That’s rich.” Virgil rubbed the back of his head.
“You don’t owe us an explanation,” Roman said.
“I kind of do. I mean, I work for you and you guys have been good to me.” I took a deep breath. “I was married to—to not a nice man. He passed away and I got a chance at a fresh start, so I came to Waco. I met Savage. He got me this job. And now I . . .”
The three of them stared at me, shock permeating their faces.
Even Homer. But he was the first one to recover. “You can’t take the bus anymore.”
“I can’t?” I asked.
“No.” He shook his head. “If Savage can’t drive you to and from work while you’re studying to get your license, then you call one of us. We’ll pick you up or drop you off. Whatever.”
“But that’s ridiculous,” I said in exasperation.
“It’s my condition,” Homer growled. “If you want to keep working here, you accept the rides. No exceptions.”
I looked at Homer and bit my lip to stop myself from smiling.
His frown deepened which unfortunately made me break. A laugh escaped my mouth, and I hastily covered my lips with my hand.
“Are you laughing at me?” Homer demanded.
“I’m laughing because I just realized you’re not so scary after all,” I said, laughing again. “You’re a secret softie.”
Roman and Virgil joined in, their laughter ringing throughout the tattoo parlor.
“I agree with Homer. About you not taking the bus,” Roman said after he collected himself.
Virgil nodded in agreement.
“I’ll accept the rides,” I said when my giggles had run their course. “And thank you.”
The handle of the front door turned and then there was a knock after the door failed to open. “Hello? Are you guys open?”
Virgil went to the door and unlocked it. A man well over six foot five instinctively ducked underneath the doorframe and stepped inside. He was thick in the neck and shoulders, his arms covered in tattoos, and a bushy beard concealed most of his face.
My head tilted back so I could meet his gaze. “You must be Moose.”
Moose grinned. “That’s me.”
I looked at Roman. “Your first appointment is here.”
“I see that.” Roman laughed and stalked forward, holding out his hand. “How’re you doing, Moose?”
“Can’t complain.” Moose clasped Roman’s hand in his large paw and gave it a vigorous shake.
“You’re new,” Moose said to me.
“Yes. I’m Evie.”
“Let’s get you in the chair. I’m excited to finish your back,” Roman said.
“You and me both.” Moose followed Roman down the hallway, but he wasn’t at all quiet when he said, “What happened to Brielle?”
“She went back to her regular job.”
“Cool. Pie in the Sky, right?”
“Don’t even think about it,” Roman warned.
“Don’t even think about what?”
“Asking my sister out. She’s off-limits.”
“You were right. Homemade sourdough bread is the best,” Savage said.
He brushed his lips across my bare belly and my fingers sank into his hair.
“How are you doing? Are you okay?” he asked.
I painted his mouth with my pointer finger. “Better than okay.”
“It’s been an intense few days. I was just checking.”
“I’m the one who should be checking on you,” I stated. “I clobbered you with a lot.”
“It’s okay,” he murmured dreamily. “I like this.”
“Savage?”
“Hmm?”
“Am I your Old Lady?”
He froze and then he lifted his head to stare at me. “Are you my Old Lady?”
I bit my lip in fear, but I forced myself to plow forward. “Virgil said something earlier today . . . it just got me thinking. You bought me a car and you said you loved me. But you never said anything about wanting me to be your Old Lady.”
Savage stared at me intently. “An Old Lady is more serious to a biker than a wife. A wife is just . . . it’s paperwork that can be re-written and dissolved if things don’t work out. An Old Lady . . . that’s a claim on life with someone—a promise that you’re willing to die for them. A promise you’re willing to ink on your own skin. Babe,” he smiled, “what do you think I meant when I said there was no going back? That you were mine .”
A slow smile stretched across my face.
He kissed my stomach. And then he kissed lower.
“I should punish you,” he whispered against my skin.
“For what?”
“For doubting my feelings for you.”
He slid my thighs open and stared at the naked heat of me. He gave me one slow lick.
“Hmm. Yes. Definitely gonna punish you. I won’t let you come for hours. And when you finally beg me, maybe then I’ll allow it.”
I shivered in desire.
“I guess I’ll just have to suffer,” I murmured.
He licked me again. “I guess you will.”