As I’m cooing at the little darling, another woman forces herself into the mix. She’s not carrying a kid but has a small baby bump—and my god, how can this many gorgeous women exist in the same small town? “I’m Maryanne Doyle,” the lush-haired brunette says. Small, curvy and absolutely glowing. It seems there’s no in between with these women. They’re either tall or petite, with most falling into the petite category. Yet another reason I don’t fit with Levi. “My husband is an unofficial Lord.” She points over her shoulder at another highly attractive man witha great build, even better smile, anddark blond hair in a crewcut. He’s wearing a police uniform, like he’s just gotten off duty. “Tommy’s a sergeant in the Thornbriar Police Department. You ever have trouble, girl, he’s the one to talk to.”
Why would I have trouble? I don’t ask that out loud. These are bikers, after all.
The last three women approach me slower than the others, one looking outright hostile with her arms crossed over her chest, like she’d rather be anywhere else but here. “I’m Liv,” the beautiful strawberry-blonde introduces herself. “I’m Chaos’s old lady—his wife, actually. And this is Frankie. She’s newer to the group, too.” Now, Liv belongs in the tall category along with Elise and Caitlin, as well as the curvy category Maryanne joined them in, whereas Frankie is curvy and small only like Maryanne. Well not only Maryanne, seeing as the third woman looks very similar to Frankie in the height and weight department, except her hair is a couple shades darker than Frankie’s.Phew! There’s a lot to keep track of.
I look to Frankie. “Hi. It’s nice to meet you.”
“I belong to Rory—erm—Scotch. I forget that no one besides me calls him ‘Rory.’ That’s how new I am to all this.” She points over her shoulder to Scotch. I’ve seen him in passing but never been formally introduced. He’s called Scotch I guess because he’s Scottish—from the actual country. He has sexy Prince Harry red hair and visible tattoos running up his arms. Plus, there’s a distinctive scar dissecting his eyebrow and running partway down his cheek. It gives him a rugged look. This man couldneverblend in while doing club business.
When I see him holding a baby girl identical to the girl in Frankie’s arms, my heart melts a little more. “These are our girls, Mollie and Macie,” she finishes. Frankie might call them ‘our girls’ but they’re the spitting image of their dad, minus the scars and tattoos.
“And who do you belong to?” I ask the third woman.
“Oh, I don’t belong to anyone,” she bites. O-kay.
“You do.” A burly, sexy man, with light blond hair and covered in tattoos all over his arms and even running up onto his neck walks to stand beside her, draping his arm over her shoulder. “You’re my old lady,” he says to her, then he looks to me. “I’m Crass.” He holds his hand out for me to shake. I’ve definitely seen him around the club, just with so much going on, I’ve never spoken to him.
“I’m not your old lady,” the woman whose name I still haven’t gotten argues. “What I am is a conscientious objector to the whole biker life.”
I look to Levi, my eyes wide hoping to communicate my ‘Is she for real?’ without actually having to say the words, which I guess I do because he leans in to whisper for only me to hear, “I’ll tell you about it later.”
“And since she was rude and didn’t introduce herself,” Crass picks up, “I’ll do it for her. This is Brighton.” He then leans in to plant a kiss to her temple. She doesn’t, I’ll note, pull away. Actually, it’s the one time since I’ve met her today that her eyes grow soft. There is definitely more to this story.
Part of me wants the details, but seeing as I’m heading to Canada as soon as I can arrange it, I don’t think it’s mine to know.
“Got that all?” Levi asks.
“I believe so,” I answer. “Elise, I know, she’s with Boss. Obviously, Caitlin is with Duke. Liv is with Chaos. Trish is with Sneak. Frankie is with Scotch, Brighton is with Crass, and Maryanne is with the hot cop who’s an unofficial Lord. Is that right?”
The women laugh at my “hot cop” comment, but Levi levels me with a ‘Really?’ look and then says, “Don’t need the extra commentary, Brin. But yeah. You got it.”Ooh-hoo-hoo, does someone not like me giving compliments to another man? No—stupid Brinley for even thinking that. He’s just embarrassed.
“I didn’t mean to embarrass you,” I say, giving him soft honesty.
“Who else has presents for me?” Jade asks the room loudly and that’s the cue to get the birthday party going.
While we all move to gather around the table, a Guinness is shoved into both my and Levi’s hands. And with Jade at the head, birthday cake lit with six candles resting in front of her, we all singHappy Birthday. She makes her wish, takes in a lungful of air, and blows those six candles out like the big, bad wolf.
Since everyone is busy giving her their gifts and Levi already gave her his, I walk back over to the sofa to get out of the way. This is nice. I could get used to it. The Pythons never acted like this—like a family.
My mom would throw me little birthday parties, just her, me, and Hannah. She’d had some little gift, something she’d made for me because we were broke all the time and Dad never parted with money for us kids that he could snort or eventually shoot up. That all stopped when Mom left.
But looking around this clean, beautifully decorated home full of love and friendship, I know this little girl won’t ever face that childhood. Caitlin cuts the cake and big, burly biker Duke scoops out ice cream to put on the plates of people who want it while Liv bounces Diesel in her arms so the pair can see to Jade. They really are a team.
Caitlin shared an interesting tidbit with me that afternoon when I weeded her rose garden with her. Duke isn’t Jade’s biological father. That guy was a douche extraordinaire, like up there with my dad, only instead of selling her, he tried to kill her. Who could ever want to harm a child as beautiful as Jade? It was Duke to rescue her. He took several bullets to do it, and then he wasted no time adopting her. From what Caitlin said, he’d kick anyone’s ass for even suggesting that Jade, or Peaches as he calls her, isn’t all his. Duke’s a good man. Though, it shouldn’t surprise me, most of these men are. I’ll never admit it, but I’m glad Levi forced me to come here tonight.
That is until he calls across the room, “Hey, Brin, you want ice cream with your cake?” And all eyes fall to me. Panic spreads from the pit of my belly and I’m sure my face and ears light up like a Christmas tree because I get too hot to stay in my skin. I hate being the center of attention. Hate it.
“Um… no cake for me, thanks.” Fingers crossed I said that without them picking up on my voice trembling. Then, casting my eyes down to my lap so I don’t have to see their judgmental stares, I take a long pull of my beer to distract myself.
Levi slides into the seat next to me with a pink paper plate that appears to have a Disney princess on it, holding a giant piece of cake and a scoop of both chocolate and vanilla ice creams. “Is there a moral or medical reason you can’t eat cake?” he asks.
Mortified and wanting to lie, but knowing I totally suck at lying, I blink instead, hoping beyond hope that he’ll drop it. But no. Not Levi. Apparently, he can’t pick up on my discomfort or hell, maybe he chooses not to. I don’t know; I don’t know the guy well enough yet.
“Brin?” he asks, waiting for an answer.
I’m so uncomfortable, I answer the way I always do, with self-deprecating humor. “If you count my big ass as medical.” I laugh it off. He doesn’t. He glares at me. I don’t like his disapproval. It shouldn’t, but for some reason, it hurts.
Leaning in close enough for only him to hear, I whisper, “People expect the fat girl to roll around in cake like a pig in mud. I don’t like to eat in front of people I know. In a restaurant it’s different; I’ll never see those people again. But until I leave for Canada, I have to see these people, Levi.”