Chapter 5
Chapter Five
Spencer
“Do you think we put enough raisins in it?” Mac eyes the dessert we’ve prepared for Sledge’s birthday party this evening as she softly bounces Gryffin on her hip.
“It looks like the picture, so, yeah? Gotta say, though, it’s the funniest spotted dick I’ve ever seen.” Laughing, I begin wrapping the huge slab of dessert, preparing it for transportation. The scent of freshly baked cake will never get old in this kitchen.
My gran would bake every day of the week when she was alive, filling the house with delicious warm smells and insisting I take some to school for my friends. I continue the tradition by bringing something freshly baked into the station once a week. My sweet potato pie is a firm favorite.
“Shh. I told you, it’s spotted eek.” Widening her eyes, Mac motions toward Gryffin, as if that’s all she needs to say on the matter.
“Babe. I love you, but that kid’s first word is probably gonna be fuck.”
She glares at me with a huff. “I wish you were wrong.”
“You never know, he might surprise us with an Uncle Spencer.” I bend down to Gryffin’s level on Mac’s hip. “Hey, bud, can you say Uncle Spencer? Or just favorite uncle? No?”
Gryffin giggles and grabs for my nose, but before a game of where has my nose gone ensues, we have a biker’s surprise birthday party to go to.
It would have been easier to bake in the kitchen at their compound, but with the Sons in and out of the place all day, Sledge’s surprise cake wouldn’t have stayed secret for long.
Mac said she did some digging and Sabrina, who feeds all of the brothers and mothers the women that seem to live there permanently, is certain that spotted dick is his favorite.
“How long do we have?” I check my watch, realizing I have zero idea what time this whole thing is kicking off. Pepper must sense that I’m heading out because she has managed to climb down from her cat tree and is trailing around my ankles.
Clipping Gryffin into his car seat, Mac hums around the cherry lollipop now in her mouth. “About an hour.”
I grab some cooked chicken from the refrigerator and mix it in with some cat food, placing it on the floor for Pepper.
“Is everyone going to be there?” I slide on my jacket and tickle Pepper behind the ears before grabbing the slab of spotted dick.
Ha…this is going to cause some fun in the clubhouse.
And that thought is not something I ever imagined I’d be happy about, but since my best friend shacked up with, married, and had a kid with the Sons of Khaos Enforcer, this is now my life outside of work.
With Gryffin’s car seat hooked over her forearm, Mac pops the sucker from her mouth and raises both of her brows. She’s been spending too much time with her husband.
“What are you looking at me like that for?”
“Does it matter if everyone isn’t there?” The smirk getting wider on her lips makes my skin prickle with heat from embarrassment.
“No.” I’m not lying. It doesn’t matter…
“So if I said that Grinder won’t be there, you wouldn’t be disappointed?” The smirking continues on her Judgey McJudgingstein face.
“No.” Okay, now I’m lying. While nothing will ever happen between me and the sex-mad biker, he’s still pretty to look at. “Anyway, let’s go before Gryffin stinks my car up again.”
Laughing, Mac shakes her head, hitting me with a knowing stare before she heads toward my front door.
“I don’t know why you’re laughing.” I slip on my sneakers and grab my keys on the way out to my driveway.
“Yes you do.” She doesn’t even look at me as she straps Gryffin’s car seat into the back of the car.
“I’m ignoring you.”
More laughing.
I secure the cake in the back seat beside Gryffin and climb into my Honda, waiting for Mac to get in the passenger side before starting the engine.
“How much longer do you plan on denying it for?” Knowing we have similar tastes in music, I have no problem with letting Mac choose the music for the short twenty minute trip. The compound is on the outskirts of town, whereas I live central, only five minutes from the fire station.
“Denying what?” The road straightens out once we get away from my street and onto the main road toward the edge of town and I’m pretending it’s really interesting.
“That you want to bang Grinder.”
“Oh yeah, I forgot. I’m ignoring you.” Everyone wants to bang Grinder, he’s hot and funny, but he’s not the settling down type. I won’t be someone’s fling.
She answers without saying a word, holding it up to her ear. The giant grin on her face tells me it’s her husband, but the grin slowly shrinks, turning into a frown.
“What the actual fudge, Aleko? How did you lose him?” She throws her spare hand into the air in exasperation.
Sounds like whatever is going on will make for a fun story time when she’s done. Maybe get us off of this Grinder conversation.
Since my boyfriend died and betrayed me just over a year ago, I haven’t found the time to date—or get laid—so this Grinder thing is just an infatuation.
Mac has convinced herself that my being horny means I’m pining for him.
She thinks I’ve found myself a bad boy biker, just like her.
The difference is that my bad boy biker has eyes for anything with genitals, whereas hers wouldn’t dream of looking at another woman like that.
The compound comes into view and I drive down the winding road leading up to the gates of the old psychiatric hospital that the Sons of Khaos now call their base.
Once inside the gates, we pass the working mechanics and detailing garages before pulling up to the side of the giant building.
In the distance is the small house where Mac’s mom lives with two of the older women here.
It’s a million miles better than the real psych ward she was in for years, thanks to Mac’s crazy and now very dead not-brother.
I turn the engine off and that’s when it hits me. My nephew has done it again.
“I love him, but he stinks.” I roll my eyes at Mac and she shrugs, climbing out of the car and grabbing Gryffin from the back seat.
“It’s his way of saying he loves you too.” She chuckles.
“What? By shitting in my car?” Kid’s lucky he’s a baby and wearing a diaper. Who am I kidding? He melts me and Mac knows it.
“Yup. I’m going to my room to change him. I feel like we have a poonami situation going on with how bad this smells.” She holds up the car seat as if to prove her point by wafting his smell closer. “I’ll send someone out to help with the party supplies.
I watch her leave, hoping Gryffin’s scent hasn’t attached itself to the dessert we prepared after our morning of shopping.
The club helped me when I was mourning the loss of a life I thought I could have had.
They fed me, got me very, very drunk, and now they feel like family.
It’s amazing how trauma can bond people like that, and I’m grateful for it.
However, this means I’m now invited to every function, and because my best friend takes it upon herself to be involved in everything, I also have the privilege of being involved.
Case in point: Sledge’s surprise birthday party.
Opening the trunk, I hook a bag of party supplies over each wrist before slamming it shut, then I head to the open back door and carefully slide the dessert tray out. With everything I can carry firmly in my hands, I make my way inside the huge building.
“Looks like you have your hands full. Want help?”
The voice comes from behind me as I walk toward the kitchen and I don’t recognize who it’s coming from.
It’s female, and British…I’m guessing the clubhouse has a new hangaround, otherwise she wouldn’t be here unaccompanied.
Turning a little, I see the woman sauntering toward me with a swagger that is not reminiscent of the other hangarounds here.
The way she’s dressed makes me second guess why she’s here too. Pastel-purple sweats cover up every inch of her, not a scrap of ass or cleavage in sight.
“You could grab one of these bags?” The weight from the bottles of craft beer—that Mac insisted the club doesn’t already have in stock—is digging into my wrists and beginning to cut off circulation, so the help is welcome.
“Sure.” Something about the fiery new red-head looks familiar, but all the hangarounds bleed into each other here, so what do I know? “What’s under the aluminum foil?” She works the bags from my wrists without moving the large tray.
“Spotted dick.” I’m not telling her what it’s for, though. I don’t know this person and the reason is classified information. If Mac got wind that I spilled, she’d disown me for at least a week.
The woman’s face brightens, her large blue-green eyes widening and her mouth opening to form an O. “Are you telling me spotted dick is a thing here? Please tell me you have a shit ton of custard to go with it and that you plan on sharing?”
I can’t tell her that it’s for everyone or why, so instead, I shrug and start heading toward the kitchen so I can finally put this damn cake down.
“Guess I’m following you then.” The gentle patter of her sneakers on the hardwood floor trails after me.
“Are you one of the people they call a prospect? Is that why you’re not wearing a cut?
” She puts the bags on the center island and heaves herself up to sit beside them, grabbing one of the bottles and holding it up.
“Am I good to have one of these, please?”
“You’re a curious cat, aren’t you?” I chuckle as she nods, seemingly well aware of her own self and completely unafraid of what I think of her.
She’ll fit in well here, if she’s sticking around.
Maybe more so with the old ladies than the women the brothers call Khunts.
“You can have the beer.” I turn to grab a bottle opener from one of the many drawers in this huge kitchen. “Here—what are you doing?”
The top of the bottle is in her mouth, between her teeth, her big eyes feigning innocence as she pops the lid off and smiles.