Page 48 of No First Kisses

“You’re aware that besides this building or the Birch County Sheriff’s Office, the MC clubhouse is probably the safest place in our entire county, right? You should let her go if she wants to.”

Emma smiles at me, beaming with approval, and I know that she may have forgiven me just a little bit for making her keep a secret from Poppy.

“No,” Dom tries again, but I recognize the determined look on Emma’s face. It is the same one that Poppy has anytime she is putting her foot down. Plus, I know better than to ever argue with a pregnant woman or a woman who’s just been told that she can’t do something because the men in her life want to keep her safe.

“Okay.” Emma turns a bright smile on him. “I’ll just invite them to our house, and Logan can tell them there. Since technically, it will still be away from Poppy, and I won’t have to miss it.” She taps her finger to her lip contemplatively. “But you know, I bet you wouldn’t like that. Since they’re in an MC, that means they’re all gonna be on bikes, and no doubt they’re gonna tear up the lawn that you just put in. Oh, and it’ll spit gravel.” Then she snaps her fingers together like she’s just had the best idea ever. “I know what I’ll do.” She smiles even brighter at her husband. “I’ll call Avery, you know. The woman I just brought up. She may have married Carter, who’s a cop, but her brother’s the president of the MC now. She’ll make sure I’m safe.”

I watch her play him like a fiddle, and not even five minutes later, we are all walking out of the station, heading to the only men in the world I know who will do just as much as I will to keep Poppy safe.

Her father and older brother.

17

POPPY

Am I sneaking out of my house like a teenager who is afraid to get caught doing something they shouldn’t be? Yes, absolutely.

I also have zero regrets while doing it. Especially with the piss-poor job that Logan did of lying to me about how that necklace ended up back in my hands. He always has a tell, which makes it impossible for him to get away with lying to me. Instead of calling him on it, I let him think my coffee is more important than getting to the bottom of it.

But I also know that Logan won’t tell me about his suspicions. Not when I’m pregnant with our baby. And definitely not when he thinks he may lose me because of it.

I’m not an idiot. I saw the look in his eyes when I pointed out the necklace to him and exactly where it’d last been. Logan’s mind is already racing with the potential of the drug dealer, Ortega, getting his hands on me. Which means that I have about an hour before I’m not able to leave the house at all, and I need to move fast if I’m going to get shit done.

I don’t go out of the house without protection. In fact, I have the mace that I bought before starting work at the police department. And I also grab the brass knuckles that Sam gave me for Christmas, when he also showed me how to use them.

In fact, I don’t even leave the house without an escort. Logan may be a cop and an all-around badass at that. But he isn’t my big brother.

“Sammy, I need your help.” Cutting to the chase as soon as he answers, I don’t bother hiding my smile when I hear him falling out of bed. Nor do I conceal the laugh when I hear a woman in the background outraged that he stopped what he was doing.

“P. Is the baby coming?” The shuffle of clothes being thrown on while he waits for an answer has me giggling.

“No, Sammy. But I need to leave the house, and you’re the only one who’s not going to turn around and blab to Logan that I’m leaving. So I need you to come get me. And you have to bring your truck because I can’t ride on your bike.”

He sighs on the other end, and I can feel the tension fading away as he realizes he isn’t about to help me deliver my baby.

“I’m at the club.” Sam grunts, and I hear the door slam behind him. “I didn’t bring my truck with me. Do you want me to go get it, or are we taking your car for whatever shenanigans you’re cooking up?”

For about a half second, I think about telling him that I’ll just ride on the back of his bike. Then I pull my head out of my ass and remember that no one will let me on the back of a motorcycle while I’m pregnant. Not only that, but I don’t really want to ride on the bike.

“We’ll take my SUV,” I tell him. “I gotta write Logan a note so he doesn’t freak out when he comes home, though.”

“A note?” Sam laughs. “You’re really hoping he doesn’t find out before you’re gone, huh?” Another door slams, and I decide to ignore his question since he is jumping right to it and heading this way.

“You’re hurrying right along, huh?” I mock him. “Gotta get away from one of the girls who throws themselves into your bed for your attention?”

Sam laughs. “They don’t throw themselves into my bed. It’s more like they slide into it naked. I gotta hang up. Be there in ten.”

He’s gone, leaving me there, staring down at the pajamas I still have on of Logan’s.

I really, really haven’t thought about it beyond getting someone here. It is a good thing I currently have a stomach the size of a basketball. No one will care if I wear a pair of leggings and one of Logan’s BPD shirts around.

When I hear the exhaust on Sam’s bike pulling up the driveway, I’ve managed to put pants on and have my hair wrapped in a messy braid that hangs over one shoulder.

“Why is it,” Sam starts talking as soon as he has his engine off and his helmet over his head. “That you look amazing, even when we both know you were still in pajamas when you called me?”

“Because I’m gorgeous.” I prop one hand on my hip, which is comical because I’m not even sure where my hips are anymore. Not with the massive child growing in my uterus. “And the curly hair means I can literally roll out of bed and still look like I spent an hour on it.”

My big brother takes the steps two at a time and pulls me into a hug. “I feel like I haven’t seen you in a month.” He lets me go to rub my stomach. “And how’s Sammy Jr. doing in there?”

---