Page 8 of Serendipity

Cain shook his head. “You wouldn’t know that this was a patriarchal club with the way she speaks to us.”

Shots looked nervous. “Sorry, VP.”

Cain waved him away. “Don’t stress it, Shots. Sweetie has us by the balls and she knows it. She hooked us in with her food and now she may as well be Pres.”

Solomon laughed, finishing his beer. “Do you dance, Serendipity?” he purred.

I loved to dance. Was I going to dance with this man? Every ounce of my self-preservational instincts screamed no. But when was the last time I’d done anything as simple as dance with a handsome man?

So ignoring my brain, I nodded and stood. I narrowed my eyes at Cain. “Don’t eat my pancakes,” I said, embarrassed by how much it sounded like a growl. Cain threw back his head and laughed, drawing the eyes of every person in the room.

“Go on. I’ll protect your pancakes.”

Solomon walked me onto the dance floor, pulling me into his body, though he kept enough space between us to keep it just this side of respectable. He placed a large warm hand on my waist and laced his fingers with mine, tucking our hands close to our bodies. The sound of some old bluesy country song came over the speakers, the beat slow and meandering, the singer crooning about how his lover was like a bottle of whiskey. Solomon rocked us from side to side in a two step that was surprisingly graceful. He moved my body as if he knew it intimately. He didn’t speak, happy to just press my body to his chest and I rested my head on his shoulder. It felt nicer than anything I had had in a long, long time. Years. Decades.

Of course, the baby took that moment to intrude on the normalcy of my life, kicking where my

stomach rested against Solomon.

He looked down at me. “Hungry?”

I couldn’t help but smile. He thought the baby kick was my stomach rumbling. “No. It’s the baby kicking.”

The look on his face made me laugh out loud. It was somewhere between shock, joy and horror.

He settled on joy. “Can I?”

I swallowed hard. My first instinct was to say no. I was in denial. Like, if no one else felt the baby kick, then maybe I was just constipated or something. I took a deep breath and nodded. He placed a gentle hand on my stomach, still rocking us gently. The baby obligingly kicked his palm. His awe at the sensation was a little contagious, and I found myself grinning. Before I knew what was happening, Cain was there, grinning down at me with the same question in his eyes.

Solomon twirled me into the huge man’s arms. “You should dance, Big Man. The baby likes it,”

he said over his shoulder as he walked back toward the bar.

I nodded, and Cain wrapped me in his arms. His hand spanned most of my lower back, and he moved in large, awkward steps, not nearly as graceful as Solomon. Still, he kept the beat and tucked me under his chin and it felt soothing. Safe.

I let him place his hand, which was even bigger than Solomon’s, across my stomach. “I wanted to do this earlier, but I’m not that damn rude. I got the feeling that the whole baby thing wasn’t sitting well with you,” he murmured against my hair.

I bit my lip, working hard to keep my body loose. “It’s been a surprise. I mean, I didn’t know. I didn’t realize until I couldn’t ignore the signs anymore. I mean, I was starving, terrified,” his hand flexed ever so gently in mine. “And then I was free of that place and him and that was supposed to be the end of it, you know? But then I realized there was this constant reminder growing inside of me and I resented the shit out of it. I felt terrified he’d find out and I’d end up back there again.” I swallowed hard and snapped my jaw shut. I’d said too much. My nervousness had made the baby do acrobatics inside my womb, giving Cain the show of his life.

The man in question tightened his arms around me and petted my stomach. “We can keep you safe from everything, from a stalker to the damn Apocalypse. Trust me. Trust us.”

The front door of the bar opened, and Cain stiffened in my arms. “Shit. He wasn’t meant to be back until tomorrow.”

He turned me so his back was to the door and I was completely hidden behind his broad body. He gave a low whistle, and Solomon turned from where he was talking to Shots. I saw him mouth the word fuck and jump to his feet.

“The Pres wants to talk to you,” he said to whoever was on the other side of Cain’s broad shoulders.

I leaned to the left to get a better look, and caught a glimpse of a tall, tattooed man. He was a similar height to Cain, which seemed impossible because Cain was huge and what were the chances of there being two ridiculously large dudes in one MC? Cain pulled me back into his body, which felt kind of nice even though I knew he was hiding me from the newcomer.

“I need a beer,” a low voice growled. It was rough and deep, like he’d had one too many punches to the throat. He strode past Solomon, and Shots was glancing between the three of them like his eyeballs were made for pingpong.

Solomon stepped around him. “The Pres said now.”

The man let out an irritated huff. “Fuck off, Sol. I’m back early and the Pres can just-” His voice snapped off as his gaze landed on Cain. “Who’s that?”

Cain stiffened, but then his shoulders went loose. Like a fighter. Well, shit. Who was this guy?

My own body tensed, and I stood stock-still, like prey.

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