Page 80 of Reaper & the Lioness
A few hours later, Thane and I sat at the bar as we watched Eva take her friend through a round of introductions.
I smiled at the familiar scene. We’d come far in such a short time.
Kenna held her own amongst the leather-clad men and the noise. Her extroverted, bubbly energy balanced the gritty men she met. Unlike Eva, who was drained by these sorts of interactions, Kenna seemed to grow more excited by the minute.
She befriended each biker she met, but her subtle interactions with Merrick and Hatchet caught my eye. They engaged in a strange dance of attraction and politeconversation, a delicate balance of flirtation and restraint. Kenna’s body language subtly shifted when she addressed either of them—a slight tilt of her head or a touch that lingered a moment too long. A twinge of concern hit me at the smoldering attraction in their own expressions and gestures.
Often quiet and reserved, Merrick softened around the edges when Kenna spoke to him. His usual scowl gave way to the ghost of a smile. His eyes followed her movements with intensity. His posture relaxed as they talked, his shoulders easing from their usual tense position.
Hatchet, on the other hand, exuded charm and easy grins. But tension appeared in his jaw when Kenna’s attention shifted to Merrick. A competitive edge tinged his banter, a barely concealed desire to outshine his brother. Hatchet’s eyes sparkled as he regaled Kenna with stories, but there was an undercurrent of seriousness I didn’t often see in him. A desire to win her over.
Eva noticed it, too. I found her eyes flicking between the two enamored men, then up to meet my knowing stare. The tension grew thick enough to cut with a knife. The air crackled with unspoken attraction and rivalry.
As Kenna continued her animated conversation, Eva excused herself and walked to the bar to get them drinks. She leaned in to kiss me.
“They’re smitten.” Amusement laced her tone.
“Yeah,” I muttered. “And that’s exactly what worries me.”
Eva chuckled. “Maybe we should make sure she doesn’t wander down any dark hallways. I hear those can be dangerous.”
I grinned, thinking about the first night we met—the irresistible pull that had drawn me to the consultant I didn’t think we should have hired.
The tension didn’t leave my shoulders. Love and lust had a way of complicating even the strongest bonds, and I didn’t need Merrick and Hatchet at war with one another over a woman.
As Eva gathered the drinks and returned to her friend, I couldn’t help but wonder how this would all unfold. One thing remained certain—with Kenna in the mix, life at the Lone Star Mavericks Motorcycle Club was about to get much more interesting.
Epilogue
Eva paced the living room, a ball of nervous energy. I’d tried involving her in the cooking process but kicked her out of the kitchen within fifteen minutes. She remained a terrible sous chef, snacking on all the carefully measured ingredients I had on the counter.
The scent of roasting turkey and herbs filled the air, and a pumpkin pie sat cooling on the counter.
“Would you calm the fuck down?” I yelled over the sizzle of onions in the pan. “You’re making me nervous, and I don’t do nervous.”
Had I known she would be this neurotic, I wouldn’t have agreed to host Thanksgiving at our new house. We’d movedin only a few months ago, the sharp scent of fresh paint still lingering in some rooms, and her father had been itching for a visit. That had escalated into a whole family ordeal, with additional settings for Linc, Mom, Rhetta, and Thane.
“I can’t help it,” Eva shot back, running her hands through her hair for the hundredth time, messing up her styled curls. “What if your mom hates me?”
I stopped and turned to face her, incredulous. “Are you fucking kidding me? My mom already loves you. She asks to speak to you every time she calls.”
Eva bit her lip, unconvinced. “Yeah, but that’s over the phone. What if she meets me in person and decides I’m not good enough for her son?”
I wiped my hands on a dish towel and strode over to her, placing my hands on her shoulders. The soft fabric of her maroon sweater warmed my palms. “If anything, she’ll wonder what the hell you’re doing with me.”
Just then, the doorbell rang, its chime echoing through the house. Hawk bounded down the stairs, his nails clicking on the hardwood, tail wagging. Hot on his heels ran Poppy, our Dutch shepherd foster pup, all gangly legs and floppy ears. Eva’s eyes went wide with panic. I gave her shoulders a gentle squeeze.
“Breathe, my Lioness. It’s just family. I’ve watched you stab a prospect before. I think you can handle this.”
She nodded, taking a deep breath. “Right. It’s just our family.”
I couldn’t help but smile.Our family.I marveled at how much had changed since the start of the year. Here we were, hosting a Thanksgiving dinner like some normal, suburban couple.
As I opened the door to greet our guests, I caught sight of the small bump just beginning to show under Eva’s sweater. Ourlittle secret, for now. Though Mom would probably figure it out before dessert.
“Hawk, Poppy, sit!” Eva commanded, her voice stern. Both dogs skidded to a halt, planting their butts on the floor, though Poppy’s tail wiggled against the hardwood.
I opened the door, and Mom pushed past me, making a beeline for Eva. Before she could even get out a nervous “hello,” Mom had enveloped her in a tight hug.
