CHAPTER 1 #3
Opal takes a step back, her face a mask of horror. “That’s not how it works, right? I’ve been rubbing that thing all day,” she exclaims, aghast.
Ezra covers her face with her hands, but I can hear the smile in her voice, “Who even are you people?”
“I, for one, am looking forward to grandbabies and watching my son become a father. But any little ones around here are a blessing,” Vera cuts in, her eyes warm as she looks at Graycie. When she turns toward Opal, something indulgent crosses her face. “We need to find you the right man, too.”
I shuffle over and duck down behind Graycie. The traitor immediately laughs, which brings Vera’s attention toward me.
There’s laughter in Vera’s words, “I can see you, Lara, and I haven’t forgotten you either.
” She lets out a long, heavy sigh, “I have a feeling a certain biker just needs to get his head out of his ass and see the world clearly. But he has to figure it out on his own,” she adds with an airy wave of her hand.
With a frown on my face, I poke my head up and around Graycie’s shoulder. “If you’re talking about Assboy, then you are barking up the wrong tree.”
Vera laughs, but the knowing glint in her eye doesn’t go away. I ignore it because the woman has clearly lost her faculties.
Opal coughs, but I can see the smile she’s trying to hide. “Let’s leave the cookies in here for now,” she suggests. She nods toward the backyard. “Come with us out to the real party.”
The nod I give her is shaky in return and my hands are far sweatier than I would like them to be. Sensing my unease and knowing the reason why I am more than justified in feeling it, the women close ranks around me. Their chatter is a balm against my frayed nerves as we step out back.
I can feel him instantly. I ignore him completely.
As I’m led deeper into the party and I see where Vanessa is huddled together with a few other kids, one younger, one older, I keep my resolve and don’t seek out his chocolate brown eyes. The hardest part is ignoring the sound of Lola’s cackle.
Even though I want to ask what she’s doing here, I don’t. I simply keep a closer eye on Vanessa. Every time Lola’s laughter fills the air, Vanessa tenses; she covers it quickly, but I see it.
When my daughter’s eyes meet mine, I can see her trust in me there. She knows I’ll protect her. That I’ll stand in front of her.
Lola shouldn’t even be here. But she is.
Why am I even surprised at this point?
“Hi, Rumble,” Opal greets a man as he approaches us.
He’s older, the generation who seems to enjoy riding more than leading now that their kids are in their seats.
His road name is displayed on his cut, and I smile at him since his eyes are filled with curiosity as he looks at me.
It’s a damn good thing because he’s a big guy with broad shoulders and obvious signs he’s kept up with a workout routine.
“Have you met Lara Chapman before?” Opal offers, “She’s the owner of Bunz Out. If you saw Vanessa around, this is her mom.”
“Miss Lara,” the man’s voice matches his road name and the smile on my face grows without me realizing it, “it’s nice to finally meet you.
I should have come into your bakery sooner, seeing as I’m willing to sniff out just about every crumb whenever the ladies bring your treats back to the clubhouse. ”
“Thank you.” I hope he can hear the sincerity in my voice. I lean toward him slightly and lower my voice, “There might be some cookies in the kitchen. I only hope I brought enough.”
The man’s face, a little weathered around the edges, but strong and sure, lights up. “I’ll go investigate that little tidbit in a moment.”
“Oh?” I start to smirk as I look into his eyes again. Something clicks and I know where I’ve seen those eyes before. My stomach sinks. He’s looking at me almost expectantly and I find myself asking, “Was there something on your mind?”
“Well,” he rubs his jaw and I swear the tips of his ears go red, “I was wondering about your thoughts and feelings about sourdough? I stumbled upon some sourdough influencers,” I barely keep my face neutral and he’s not fairing much better, “and it’s become a hobby of mine.”
I blink a few times and Opal snickers before slipping away somewhere. For a moment, I’m too surprised to even form one coherent thought.
“It’s not my favorite bread, taste wise,” I admit and the smile on his face dims slightly. “But,” I quickly add, “I do love to make it. It’s very intensive and you can mix things in, and I like scoring them a lot.”
“You make them and don’t eat them?” He asks, his voice slightly dazed and disbelieving.
“I make a lot of things and don’t eat them,” I tease.
Rumble barks out a laugh and the smile on my face brightens without feeling forced since the moment I walked into the clubhouse. That’s when I feel eyes boring into me.
I look out of the corner of my eye to find Playboy looking between the man who must be his father and me. Lola is saying something, her voice low and her face twisted into something sour and resentful.
Playboy’s eyes flash with something I can’t name.
All I know is that whatever is about to happen isn’t going to be good.