Page 32 of Angel

“Swear jar!” Both Cage and Bree said to her in unison.

Angel slapped herself in the forehead. “Where are we going on our date anyway?” she asked Cage.

“You’ll find out when we get there, but make sure you wear something nice.” He gave her a long look over. “Nicer, anyway.”

Bree looked up and down her mom too. Angel was wearing her scuffed biker boots, ripped dark jeans, and a pink t-shirt that exposed some of her muscular midriff. On the front of her shirt, it had a sloth hanging upside down with no slogan.

“Come on, Mom,” Bree encouraged. “Let’s go find you something to wear.”

Angel grumbled but relented. Just before she reached the hallway, she pointed a finger back at Cage. “I’m still not riding bitch!”

“Keep arguing,” he threw back at her. “You’re just going to end up paying for your own daughter’s education faster!”

Cage waited for Angel and Bree to emerge from her bedroom with a mixture of excitement and impatience. Bree’s crush on him was probably the worst kept secret in the club and was only rivaled by Batman’s secret identity. She seemed to be in full support of them, which Cage was thrilled about.

Both Angel and Cage had taken Bree to her appointment that afternoon. She spent her therapist’s lunch hour with her. Cage and Angel had gone down to the diner across the street for lunch, but Cage didn’t consider that to be a date.

This was their first date and it would go down in history as the best date ever. He’d already called and booked their reservation. Mount Grove didn’t have a lot of fancier choices, but there was a restaurant in Cottonville that was exactly the sort of place Cage was looking to take Angel. There was no doubt in his mind that she would love it.

He glanced down at his watch. They still had about fifteen minutes before they needed to leave. He was grateful Angel was not the sort of woman who needed hours in front of a mirror before she felt ready to leave.

Cage knew that Angel owned some fancier, feminine clothing. He’d seen her dressed up at Bear’s and Lucky’s weddings. For Bear’s, she’d worn a dress pant suit with her cut. It had been cold, mid-February, and like the others she’d dressed for warmth over fashion. However, Lucky’s wedding had been in May and outdoors under the clubhouse pavilion. Angel had worn a longer deep blue dress to match Harper’s theme colors in addition to her cut.

Fuck, she’d been beautiful that night. Cage had wanted to ask her to dance, but she’d been in Mom-mode during the wedding. Cassie and Bree had become close friends since Cassie’s arrival into Bulldog’s life. The two shared a similar, horrific past and both had been taken in by parental figures that were not theirs biologically. While Bree’s trauma manifested in dreams and a fear of strangers, Cassie’s resulted in a case of agoraphobia. Generally, Cassie felt safe enough that she could manage journeying from her house to Bree’s or the clubhouse. However, attending a wedding was a stressful time for her, as she’d been an unwilling child-bride at the young age of thirteen.

To this day, no one knew what had transpired in the clubhouse’s secret cellar between Bulldog and the man who had raped his Abby as well as married and raped young Cassie. Cage remembered seeing Bulldog’s face the next day and thinking the man looked to be at peace.

The prospects who had to clean up the cellar had not been.

During Lucky and Harper’s wedding, Cassie had struggled. She knew that Harper was a willing bride as well as an adult. But weddings were a touchy subject for Cassie. Abby, who was still recovering from her own trauma, had also needed watching. Bulldog had stuck close to Abby while Angel agreed to stay with Cassie and Bree, who hadn’t wanted to leave her friend’s side. Eventually, Cassie had needed to leave. Bree and Angel had gone with her.

Cage had watched them leave, disappointed that he never got that dance with Angel.

What she wore tonight did not matter to Cage. She could have gone in her ripped jeans and cute as fuck tee if she wanted to. However, the restaurant Cage had chosen was on the fancier side.

Looking around the living room, Cage wondered if Angel could see him living here too. Did she think he’d want a bigger house? He didn’t. This little house had become his dream over the past year. His clubhouse apartment had become like a prison. He hated returning back there, alone, each night.

He got that Angel wanted to take their relationship slow. But damn. He was ready. He wanted this life. He wanted his girls. Fuck, he wanted to see Angel pregnant with his baby.

It was like a drive now, an obsession.

A throat clearing behind him had Cage spinning to face the hallway, which was now dark. Bree sat in her chair and waved her arms like Vanna White. “Ta-da!”

Angel walked into the light of the living room and, holy fuck on a Tuesday, she looked amazing. Her short hair was pulled up onto a twisted clip that could easily be worn with a helmet. She had a light brushing of makeup that only accentuated her green eyes. She wore a long tunic shirt that landed at her thighs with a silver belt around her hips. Black leggings and stylish ankle boots completed the look.

Cage had to put a hand to his heart to ensure it was still beating. As he approached them, he saw the pride on Bree’s face and knew that the teen had a big hand in Angel’s outfit, hair, and makeup. He pulled out his wallet and handed her a twenty-dollar bill.

Bree took it but was confused. “What’s this for?”

“Your college fund,” he answered gruffly. He took hold of Angel’s face. “Fuck, sweetness, you look fucking amazing.” Then he kissed her.

Angel and Cage watch Bree push herself down towards Bulldog’s house. The club’s SAA was on the porch and waved in acknowledgement that he had her. They waved back.

Angel turned towards Cage. “Why don’t we call a truce and take your Mustang?” A funny look crossed his face that made Angel feel like she was missing something huge. “What? I’ve always wanted to take a drive in it.”

Cage cleared his throat but wouldn’t look at her. “I sold the Mustang, Angel.”

Her jaw dropped. He’d sold the car he’d gotten his road name from? “What? When?”

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