Page 3 of Gunner

“Seeing someone?”

She huffs loudly, struggling to avoid rolling her eyes at me. “Also, no. James, what is thi?—”

“Good. Then you’re having dinner with me. We need to catch up.”

I’m being presumptuous as fuck, and she might want to tell me to take a flying leap. But there is no way in hell I’m leaving this parking lot without ensuring I see her again.

“I can’t just…” She bites her lower lip while considering her reasoning.

My gaze darts to her mouth, and I feel my cock behind my zipper when I take notice of the movement. I glance at Caleb, looking back and forth between me and his mom, and clear my throat, locking down my lustful thoughts.

“Why the fuck not, Lil?” I press for an answer.

She gives me a stern glare, her eyes flicking to her son. I send her a silent apology but wait for an answer.

She shoves the cart to the side of the lane, moving us out of the way of passersby. “Because I don’t have a babysitter. I haven’t been back in Carnage that long, and I’m still trying to figure things out. I need to get my bearings.”

I quickly rack my brain, thinking of anyone who could watch Caleb tonight. Then, the best woman for the job comes to mind: Emma, Sentinel’s ol’ lady. He’s our club’s VP and a ruthless bastard. But he’s had a much softer side since he met his woman and fell in love with her. I could ask them. Then I quickly realize that might not go over well with Sentinel since he likes spending all his free time with Emma… without distractions.

Or there’s Throttle and Sienna. They have a lot more space after moving into their own house at the edge of the Disciple’s property. And things have been calmer for them too, now that Sienna’s former client is off the streets. Tony Bertelli had no regard for human life, and the fucker deserves every bit of what’s coming to him in prison.

Yeah, maybe Caleb would be better off with them than hanging around the clubhouse…

Lily interrupts my thoughts. “I guess… you could, um, you could come over for dinner at my place. If you don’t mind eating with me and a six-year-old little monster.” She smiles down at her son. “What do you think, sweetheart? Is it okay if Mommy’s friend has dinner with us?”

Feeling uncharacteristically nervous, I shift my weight between my feet. What am I? Fucking sixteen? I chastise myself for acting like a pussy while I wait for his response.

He looks up at me with those big green eyes. “Will you play trucks?”

I can’t help my smile. “Sure thing, kid.”

His lips spread into a big grin.

“Not so fast, boys. After dinner,” Lily forewarns.

“What are we having?” I’m already salivating at the thought of a homecooked meal. And with anticipation of tasting this woman again. Nothing and no one has ever come close to her sweetness.

Lily beams at me with a sparkle in her eyes. “Lasagna.”

My eyebrows lift. “Your grandma’s recipe?”

She smiles fondly, happy that I remember this small detail after so many years.

How could I forget? The first time I tried Lily’s lasagna was the day of my mother’s funeral. She brought it over after the service, making sure that I ate since I couldn’t rely on my father to do it. She comforted me, holding my hand while I finished every morsel of food on my plate.

Then we sat on my back porch, quiet and comfortable in each other’s space. Her floral perfume delicately scented her neck and beckoned me to breathe her in every chance I got. She felt so good in my arms while she frequently kissed my cheek and lips. Soon, I couldn’t hold back anymore and bolted for my bedroom, her hand caught in mine. Every fucking detail of that night is burned into my memory as if she’s embedded in my skin like one of my tattoos.

“I’ve never found a recipe better than hers,” Lily declares proudly with a slight lift of her chin.

“Just tell me when and where.”

We exchange information, and she plugs her number and address into my phone. I call her so she can save mine to her contacts.

“Should I bring anything?” I ask, remembering my manners while pocketing my cell.

“How about dessert, if you want any? Oh, what kind of beer do you drink?”

I’m not surprised a single mom might not keep beer in the house with a small one around. “Don’t worry about that. I’ll grab some on my way.”

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