CHAPTER 1
LARA
Is it because of Lola?
Sometimes that simple question from Vanessa, colored with the vestiges of her innocence, still haunts me. It’s been months since the Monroe County Fair, but her question has remained. I thought I knew the answer back then, but it’s become even clearer since then.
I have no idea exactly what Lola has told Playboy, but I know she’s spread her lies and her venom. That much is clear. What I don’t understand is why he would believe her so readily.
Lola is manipulative, sure. But she’s not particularly good at hiding her ulterior motives. Not if you look closely.
The thought that Playboy simply doesn’t want to see the truth feels like a punch to the gut. It shouldn’t. I shouldn’t give a single flying fuck.
But I do.
My movements are automatic as I finish pulling the last tray of cookies out of the oven. I’ve made four different kinds. And a ton of them.
Not for Bunz Out.
For a party because I can’t go to a family style BBQ empty handed. It wouldn’t feel right.
“Why am I even going to this party?” I can’t help but ask myself the question out loud. As if it will help my comprehension of the situation.
It won’t.
Because the last place I should be going today, or any day really, is the Saint’s Outlaws Motorcycle Club clubhouse.
The last time I was there was a month after Ryker was shot protecting Ezra. I didn’t want to go then either, but I was guilt tripped into it. Anyway, was I really going to let one asshole stop me from celebrating my friend’s happiness and the health of her man?
I braved the clubhouse. It didn’t take long before I realized just how big of a mistake I made.
Playboy still found a way to cut me down. The entire time Lola was draped over him like an octopus. It was obvious to everyone in the room that she was staking her claim.
My stomach churns at the thought of them together. I hate it, even if I shouldn’t. It’s none of my business.
It’s not.
If only I could tell myself that enough times for it to really sink in and no longer matter.
I’ve tried to put on a brave face when it comes to the two of them, but they don’t make it easy on me. Playboy’s constant sneers and jabs at me along with Lola’s coy smiles and malicious glances have chipped away at me. I hate to admit it, but it’s true.
With Lola involved, there’s no doubt in my mind that he’s being used. Still, he’s allowing it and refuses to see what is right in front of him. That’s on him and, honestly, it isn’t my problem.
He’ll figure it out. Or he won’t. Either way, my only goal is to get through today without something big happening. Or humiliating.
Vanessa bounces into the kitchen and I can practically feel the excitement radiating from her. It puts a smile on my face even as dread curls in my stomach. If it weren’t for her, I wouldn’t have agreed to go to this family day at the club.
I’ve been refusing everyone’s invitations for a while.
I won’t go to the club. I don’t frequent club owned businesses.
I don’t refuse customers when they walk through the door of Bunz Out just because of their connection to the club.
Also, I don’t ignore my friends, even if they’re in love with one of the SOMC bikers.
Those friends are the same ones I have to blame for today and Vanessa’s excitement. If they hadn’t oh so casually mentioned the BBQ to Vanessa, I could have pretended I never knew about it.
Instead, I got puppy dog eyes turned on me along with a big pouting lower lip.
I’ve never been able to say no to Vanessa.
Damn it.
My daughter would have been so disappointed if I told her we couldn’t go. So, here I am, packing up the cookies which have already cooled while mentally building a wall around my feelings and heart. I won’t allow that asshole to be able to touch the softest part of me.
I only hope he knows Vanessa is off limits when it comes to his ire. I have no issue defending myself, I do it well. But when it comes to my daughter, I’m even fiercer. She deserves nothing less.
“How many kinds of cookies did you make?” Vanessa asks the question while eyeing the boxes I’ve started to put together.
“Enough,” I force the word out and hope it doesn’t wobble the way my insides feel like they are. “Hopefully I managed at least one kind everyone likes.”
Vanessa giggles, her blue eyes sparkling. “As long as you have mine,” she sing-songs, but I can hear the slight warning.
I shoot her a look and her smile widens. She knows I always make her favorite—red velvet with white chocolate chips. If I don’t watch her, she’ll eat a dozen of them.
When she reaches for the container with her favorites inside, I click my tongue. “No way, missy-moo. Hands off.”
Her little lower lip pops out, and she widens her eyes as she tries to look innocent. I only purse my lips; she knows her little innocent act doesn’t work on me. I’m immune. For the most part.
When I glance at her, I try one more time to talk her out of going today. “You know there aren’t going to be other kids there, not really. There aren’t a lot of families from what Graycie has said,” I remind her.
“I don’t need kids there to be entertained,” she shoots back, her voice containing an edge of sass.
My eyebrows shoot up to my hairline, but I don’t say anything. Am I already imagining us leaving early because she’s bored? Yes.
A thoughtful look crosses her face before she muses, “Should I take a game? Or a deck of cards?”
Damn it.
“If you want,” I offer. “I don’t think it would be a bad idea.” I add the words on, needing to encourage her looking for a solution, even if I don’t necessarily want to encourage her to find ways for us to stay at the BBQ longer than necessary.
“Consider it done.” She gives me a decisive nod and then flounces off to do her own bidding.
I almost snigger when I think about bikers using the deck of cards with all the princesses which I bought when we first moved into our new place. They better not complain. Or else they’ll be answering to me.
Warmth fills me as I look around our apartment.
It’s not huge, but it’s big enough for us.
The commute can’t be beat either. The best thing about living above my bakery is that I can be down in the kitchen early in the morning while knowing Vanessa is safe just one floor above me.
I made sure we had a good security system too, just in case.
Our home is cozy with a plush couch where we have movie nights. The kitchen table is probably a little too big for the space, but Vanessa uses every inch when she’s painting or doing homework. Every wall has pictures of some of our sweetest memories.
My gaze snags on our first picture. She was just minutes old and in my arms. I’m looking at her with understanding, resolve, and love. I knew, in that moment, I would do anything to keep her safe.
It was na?ve of me to think I’d ever have to fight Lola for her. Part of me thought she’d have some maternal instinct that would kick in. It didn’t throughout her entire pregnancy, but maybe when faced with the reality of her daughter?
It never kicked in. Even now, ten years later, it hasn’t. I’ve given up hoping for it.
Honestly, I shouldn’t have held out hope even on the day Vanessa was born. Not when I had to go through Lola’s room more than once to find her stashed liquor bottles during the pregnancy. It was a miracle when Vanessa was born healthy except for being a little underweight.
I’d do it all over again for my daughter. She became mine during sleepless nights, fevers, and hushed one-sided conversations about my dreams for our future.
Even though I don’t tell Vanessa the plan, like when we need to leave or what time people are showing up at the clubhouse, she pops up at just the right moment.
I narrow my eyes at her, but she only smiles while carrying a tote bag with a board game sticking out of the top.
I’m sure there are cards in there and it wouldn’t surprise me if she has something to draw with.
“Ready to go?” She chirps the question and I have to swallow down a refusal and the need to tell her I’ll never be ready.
My aversion to being around Playboy isn’t her problem. I was told Lola won’t be there for the BBQ since it’s a family day event. Apparently, she’s only allowed out at night since she’s a club whore.
I try not to think about exactly what her lovely title means.
When I found out she moved to Dogwood Ridge and was being kept by a motorcycle club, I wasn’t the least bit surprised. Moving to the same town was a decision I didn’t take lightly.
While I wasn’t all that hopeful, I couldn’t bear to prevent Vanessa from having a relationship with her birth mom.
Even if the thought of it makes my chest ache.
Lola will never be good to Vanessa; it’s not in her nature.
But I also couldn’t be the one to say the bridge doesn’t exist or to burn it down myself.
So, I agonized over whether moving was the right thing for us.
Vanessa still doesn’t have her birth mother in her life, but we have found something in this town.
The people are kind and they are more than willing to support my business, Vanessa, and me.
I haven’t completely relaxed here and I’m not sure I ever will.
“If he says anything mean to you, I’ll kick him in the shin,” Vanessa’s fierce voice pulls me back to the present.
When I laugh, she joins right in while reaching for my hand and tugging. “Hey now,” there’s a soft warning in my voice, “don’t pull me too fast. I need to grab my own bag of goodies.”
“Forgetting the cookies would be a crime,” she deadpans.
I grab the bag and herd a very excited little girl out of the apartment and down the stairs. We head toward the Bunz Out delivery van, which is really just a van with my logo on the window. My stomach is in knots the entire drive.
Vanessa hums along to whatever song comes on the radio which I hardly pay attention to. Because I’m already bracing myself.