Chapter Eleven
Gunner pulled the apple tarts out of the oven.
He and Rachel had spent the last week working through how everything would be set up and how to situate the make-your-own bookmark station.
Yesterday, they’d decided to ask for volunteers to run through some of the options before their opening next month.
Rachel had set up two craft stations. Some of the books she’d ordered were on the shelf but not all. A large delivery was coming next week, and there were at least ten boxes sitting in their office that needed to be added to inventory and put on the shelf.
He’d had to chuckle a little at the mulish face Rachel had given him after they’d picked up the thermal packs, and he’d taken her back home. He’d gone into the house with her, then dug through the van until he found her heating pad.
He’d left her with the admonishment to rest and to text him what she’d like for lunch.
Just to be a smart-ass, she’d texted pizza with mushrooms, beef and black olives.
He’d gone to the clubhouse kitchen and whipped up a homemade pizza along with some garlic bread.
The shock on her face when he brought her the homemade meal had him wondering if her husband had ever done anything nice.
Rachel had felt better by Tuesday, and they’d accomplished a lot this week, including him calling the Saint’s Outlaws MC for help.
He and Rachel had talked through what had happened with Justice’s wife, Adley, who was a criminal lawyer but said she had some colleagues she would check with for availability.
Gunner had also requested a Get Well delivery from Ruthy’s Flower Shop if the Saint’s Outlaws MC could find her husband.
He might not have explained to Rachel that a Get Well delivery wasn’t actually flowers, but a beatdown delivered by one of the Saint’s Outlaws MC members.
He didn’t lie because she didn’t ask any questions about it.
He plated the tarts and brought them out to the counter. Instead of checking people out, all the food was laid on top of the cases for them to help themselves.
Two little people who’d burrowed into his heart more with each interaction ran over.
“Those smell good,” Marcus said. Chelle nodded beside him.
“You can have some as soon as the filling cools a little. It would burn your mouth if you bit into them right now,” Gunner cautioned.
“Okay, I’m going to…”
“It is I, Prospect Finn, tasked with fighting for the rights of majestic unicorns. How may I be of service to the realm?” Finn asked.
Gunner laughed along with everyone else. Finn had his pink unicorn and rainbow backpack slung over his shoulder and was waiting for his instructions.
Phoebe walked over to Finn and whispered something. He knelt down on the floor by her, putting his hand over his heart and whispering something back. What Gunner wouldn’t give to know what Phoebe had said.
Gunner tested the heat of the tarts.
“Okay, they’re good if you want to take them to share with everyone,” Gunner said. Marcus grinned and picked up the tray.
Finn walked over, laying his backpack down. “I’m at your disposal for whatever you need done.”
“First, I’m going to need to know what Phoebe said and who added the penalty of having to announce yourself like that,” Gunner asked, motioning Finn to follow him into the kitchen.
“Phoebe said that I should learn from my mistakes and never disrespect one of her friends,” Finn said, walking over and washing his hands.
“You mean, Phoebe came up with that for you to say and convinced someone to add it to the penalty?” Gunner asked, handing Finn a bowl of chocolate cookies to roll in powdered sugar.
“Yep. I guess she gave her idea to Bear and he called War. Since it came from the kids, War tacked it on to the penalty. You can guarantee I’m going to watch my words from now on,” Finn muttered.
Gunner chuckled. “Good idea. Finish those, bake them for 12 minutes, then remove. After that, you can be in charge of drinks tonight.”
Gunner headed out to the front and found Phoebe. “High-five, Pheebs. I’m proud of you for standing up for your friends.”
Phoebe grinned that mischievous smile that he rarely saw her without. Man, with Chelle having friends like Phoebe, maybe he needed to propose a bigger fence at the compound. Who knows who Phoebe might irritate by the time she was in high school?
Rachel waved goodbye to Roam, Sprite, and her children. It was late. Sprite said she would take Marcus and Chelle to Rachel’s house to get them started on baths.
Rachel and Gunner had a few things to pick up before they closed for the night. The kids had adored their craft area. The build-your-own bookshelf area and decorate-your-own bookmark were a success.
Sprite had suggested having the kids’ supplies in some divided containers that she used at the shop. She’d had Roam go grab an extra from Bluff Creek Ink. Sprite had shown Rachel how she would use it to set up the supplies. Rachel had loved it and ordered some right away.
Everyone had also voted on their favorite names for the cats. Now she could get tags made and have them ready to go.
As she put the supplies away, she thought about how close she’d grown to the women in the week since she’d arrived.
Regina had helped her find a therapist for the kids to talk to about their bad daddy.
He’d gotten them in for a first appointment.
Chelle and Marcus had come to her separately and said they liked talking with him because he made them feel better.
Beth, Emerson, and the group, as Rachel had taken to calling them, couldn’t quit talking about Rachel’s overalls.
She’d taken the Broken Hearts Brewing logo and made patches and iron-on transfers with it.
She’d applied a large one to the front of her overalls and then had smaller ones all over the legs.
She’d been pretty proud of herself that everyone loved them so much.
“Are you about finished?” Gunner asked as he locked the front door.
“Yes, give me five more minutes,” she said.
“All right. I’ll check the bathrooms, then meet you in the kitchen,” Gunner said.
Rachel straightened the bookmark and bookshelf area.
She stared at the bookcase and couldn’t wait until they unloaded all the books onto the shelves.
She and Gunner had set the book organization get-together for February seventh because they were still waiting on some cartons of books.
She didn’t want to put the books they had up and then completely have to rearrange when the last ones came in.
She slid a chair under the table and deemed the room good enough for them to go home.
She walked into the kitchen. Gunner was standing by the door, a smile on his face and wearing those thigh-hugging jeans he seemed to prefer.
A tight black T-shirt was tucked into his jeans.
The fabric outlined the muscles under it.
She swallowed, then realized she’d been staring at him longer than was appropriate.
“You ready?” she asked, walking up to him. His height and the way he treated her made her feel feminine and wondering what his lips would feel like.
“I’ve been ready for this for a week,” Gunner growled, grasping her strap and tugging her closer. His breath, smelling of the bowl of candy mints he kept in the kitchen, wafted closer before warm lips claimed hers.
For a second, she was stunned but this was Gunner. His lips coaxed a response—not tentative but tempting her to let go. He wanted her full participation, and he was willing to wait.
She slid her hand up until her palm could cup his cheek. He was everything she imagined and more. Instead of being the bystander like she’d been her whole life, she dove into showing him she wanted whatever he was willing to give.
A low groan came from him. His hand slid down, grasping her bottom, tugging her tighter until she could feel every inch of his hardness against her. He made love to her mouth as if he couldn’t get enough. There was no other word for how he was making her feel besides craved.
His lips coasted toward her neck, sending shivers down her spine. Her breasts felt heavy. She wanted to rub them against Gunner, but they had layers between them.
“More,” she whispered. She wasn’t sure what more she wanted or how far she wanted to go but she ached.
Gunner unhooked one of her straps, then lifted her onto the prep table. He stared into her eyes as his fingers unbuttoned the buttons at her hip. His fingers slipped under her T-shirt, dragging it above her breasts.
“Yes?” he asked.
She nodded because she needed more. His finger traced her breast. Gunner dragged her bra cup down, revealing her hardened nipple.
As tiny and slender as she was, she’d always wanted bigger breasts, but the grin on Gunner’s face before he licked his tongue across the tip told her he was plenty happy with them.
The first touch had her arching. When he sucked hard, the pleasure shot straight between her legs. She widened her legs, wiggling, trying to get closer. He held her up while he ravished her breasts, slipping back and forth between them until she wanted to scream at him to take her.
His free hand slipped through the opening of her overalls, trailing across her stomach, sending more heat to her core.
She couldn’t think as he found her center, rubbing and touching until everything inside her tightened. Her orgasm ripped through her.
She breathed deeply, trying to catch her breath. She opened her eyes to a smirk on Gunner’s face. He brought the fingers he’d had inside her to his mouth, tasting her. What exactly does one say? Thanks for the orgasm? Thanks for making me feel loved and worshipped?
“Thank you,” Gunner said, fixing her clothes.
“For?” she asked.
“Trusting me enough to let me bring you pleasure. It will hold me over until the day you’re ready for me to remove every stitch of your clothes and sink inside you,” he said, helping her off the table.
“Umm, when will I be ready?” Rachel asked. She’d felt his hardness. He wasn’t pushing to have her right now. Gunner adjusted himself before flicking the lights off. She’d never met a man who was willing to wait.
“When you’re ready to be mine and only mine forever,” Gunner replied, leading her out to his bike.