Chapter 16 #2
“Mom sometimes uses the club’s kitchen to fulfill catering orders for her company. Band-Aid came to the clubhouse to get ready for the run, saw her working, and ordered for you.”
“That’s so sweet.” I like it more than flowers. “Is it in your car?” I ask, looking around. Does it need to go in the fridge right away?
“Oh it’s over there,” Darcy says, pointing to a nearby table.
She points to a man with a young Luke Perry thing going on.
His hair is dark and short, combed back, his sculpted jaw clean shaven.
He studies me for the briefest of seconds before he turns back to watch the door.
“Is this your brother?” I ask Darcy, noticing a brief resemblance.
It’s not her fiancé. He was blonde and much larger than an average man.
“Oh, no, Flinch and I aren’t related. Odin, my fiancé, is overprotective, so he has either Flinch or sometimes Band-Aid, hang out with me when he’s not around,” Darcy explains. My stomach is too busy doing flip flops while trying to make sense of what I’ve just learned.
Overprotective. Meaning the purpose of Flinch and Band-Aid is to protect. He’s security. Is he out of town as someone’s bodyguard?
“We do kind of resemble one another a little bit, though, don’t we?” she remarks, taking the baby back from Delia when a customer walks in.
“It’s the dark hair that’s all,” I confess. “What’s the baby’s name?”
“It’s Owen.”
“Oh, like his dad’s road name,” I point out. “What a cute way to name the baby after him.” Hearing Hank’s pants, I reach for the collapsable water bowl, and fill it from a special squeeze bottle before placing it in his stroller.
Darcy flinches, and I think I’ve stepped into another landmine when she remarks, “You know, the names are very similar aren’t they? It wasn’t intentional, but I kind of love it.”
After the customer takes her coffee to go, I order myself an Italian cream soda, then follow Darcy’s lead to a nearby table. Sutton and Meadow are already there with their own drinks. “So how did you meet Jude anyway? I thought all he ever did was work and visit his nephews?” Darcy asks.
Jude has nephews? These women know more about Jude than I do, another reminder of how quickly we’re moving.
Remembering what Jude said about the other women helping me understand, I say, “It’s kind of a long story.”
There’s some small talk at the table before Meadow asks, “Did Band-Aid tell you when to expect him back?”
“Friday,” I recall.
“Oh, that’s right, they had to ride all the way to Missouri,” Sutton throws out.
She knows where Jude is, but I can’t? Shaking off the whirlwind of feelings rushing over me, I ask, “Are you dating one of the brothers, or are you someone’s daughter?” Safe question, right?
“Neither,” Sutton says with an awkward laugh. “I'm the odd man out.”
Okay, so not so safe a question after all.
“Sutton is what they call a house mouse,” Darcy explains in an easy voice. “She’s kind of like a little sister slash housekeeper for Folgers.”
“Since he lives at the compound, Meadow and I take care of the clubhouse and the guys.”
“Your head must be spinning,” Darcy says understandingly, rubbing her adorable baby bump. “I had the good fortune to work for White Dog before I became an old lady. It helped me kind of ease my way into things.”
“I didn’t think we were allowed to know where Jude’s going.”
Sutton confesses, “Word gets around sometimes.”
That makes sense. Hopefully it’s not an uncommon occurence. That’s a lot easier to handle than living with a part of Jude’s life left as a complete mystery to me.
“You were going to tell us how you met Band-Aid,” Meadow reminds me.
Cringing, I confess, “It’s kinda embarrassing.”
Darcy scoffs, “You should hear how I met Dane. Now fess up.”
I shield my face in my hands before pulling them back, “So, I left White Dog and was driving back home with my cousin. We had the top down, so you could see inside. I went the wrong way down Main Street, and had to make a u-turn….”
After putting my foot in my mouth, we manage to talk comfortably for a good bit after that, the girls loving our meet-cute.
Flinch stays wordless at a table between us and the entrance, manspreading while he does whatever it is he’s doing on his phone.
Then we hear it, the roar of tailpipes. Flinch moves to stand by the door, seemingly expecting the bikers.
The girls and I turn, the sound ingrained in all of us as belonging to our guys, even though I know it’s not Jude.
Odin walks in a second later. No, not walks. Thunders. He yanks the door open and trains his eyes right on his old lady. “Oh here we go,” Darcy complains.
He pulls off his sunglasses and strides over to his woman. Leaning down, he accuses, “Sugar, you are not where I told you to be.”
Darcy sasses, “I’m just surprised you expected me to be where you told me to be.”
“Home. Steaks are waiting for me to throw on the grill, and I made fresh sweet potato mash for Owen. I need to feed my boys and my woman,” he leans down and rubs the baby bump almost reverently, his eyes turning tender.
As stern as his words are, there’s not a bit of heat to them.
The new baby must be a boy, because Darcy mentioned that this is their second child.
Odin collects Owen, who’s somehow made his way to Sutton’s lap. The baby grins, then pulls on his dad’s beard. “Hey there, little buddy, we talked about this.”
He works to untangle the baby’s fingers from his neat beard, then kisses his tiny hand. His eyes are soft with complete adoration for his son.
Almost as a second thought, he turns to me and says, “You Band-Aid’s old lady?”
“It’s complicated,” I answer.
“You Greer Guidry?”
“Yes,” I answer tentatively.
“Then Band-Aid claimed you before he left. That makes you his old lady.”
I start to stammer out a response when he shakes his head with a laugh. “If you need anything while Band-Aid is out of town, just tell Sully and one of the guys will be over.”
That being said, he reaches for Darcy’s hand, drags her out the door with their son, and loads them into a pickup. All before I can say thanks.
Flinch takes a reluctant step toward the door, then turns to me, “You have a cousin named Allie?”
Huh, despite his apparent boredom, he was listening in on our conversation, carefully. “Yes.”
“Her last name Guidry too?”
“Yes. Our fathers are brothers,” I confirm.
His expression, blank since he walked into the coffee shop, flickers with anger before evening out again. With pursed lips, he strides out the door without another word.
What the hell?