Page 46 of Driving Whiskey Wild
“Wait,” another blonde said anxiously. “I’ve got a colicky four-month-old. I get dibs.”
Finlay was watching him with an amused and dreamy expression. If he’d had any lingering doubts about his decision to cut back his hours and where he needed to be at night, that look silenced them.
“Sorry, ladies, but all my free time”—and my heart—“is spoken for.”
Chapter Eighteen
FINLAY AWOKE TO the sound of Penny’s ringtone. She rolled toward Bullet’s side of the bed and realized she was alone. It had been two weeks since Bullet had mentioned cutting back his hours and ten days since Jed had modified his schedule to accommodate the change. Bullet had been far less edgy ever since, and he’d been sleeping soundly again, which was why she was confused about waking to an empty bed.
She reached blindly for her phone and put it to her ear. “Hey, Pen. What’s up?”
“Obviously not you.”
“What time is it?” She turned to look at the clock and found a sticky note blocking the numbers. She snagged it and read Bullet’s blocky handwriting. Meet me out front.
“Time for you to get up,” Penny said way too cheerily. “I gotta run. I’m meeting Tegan at Jazzy Joe’s for coffee. Love you!” The line went dead.
Jazzy Joe’s was a café in town run by twins Jasmine and Joe Carbo. Coffee sounded really good right then. She sat at the edge of the bed, wondering what the heck was going on, then padded over to the bathroom and found another sticky note on the mirror.
Wear jeans and those sexy lace-up boots.
She couldn’t stop smiling as she used the bathroom and brushed her teeth and hair. Her life had changed so much, so fast. The morning of the baby shower, she’d thought her life couldn’t get any better. Then one of the women at the event had hired her to cater a surprise party for her mother and Bullet had broken the news about cutting back his hours at work and told her that Dixie had mentioned the possibility of hiring Isabel. Finlay had been so excited, she’d accepted the part-time job with the Whiskeys that very night. In the two weeks since, she’d had the menus designed and printed, and Isabel had worked out an almost full-time schedule with Dixie, giving her time to also work with Finlay, and she’d already put in her notice at the restaurant in Boston.
Last Saturday they’d pulled together the final details for the fundraiser, which was taking place in two weeks, after the charity ride. Sarah’s brother was out of ICU, and with any luck, he and the baby would be discharged before the event. The fundraiser was being held on the grounds of Whiskey Bro’s, and they would use it to announce the opening of the kitchen. Finlay was going to cook, and all proceeds from food sales as well as the rally itself would go to the Beckleys.
She gazed out the bedroom window at the backyard as she pulled on a pair of skinny jeans. She and Bullet had worked in the gardens together last Sunday. His passion for nature, and for her, was boundless, and she loved working with him in the gardens as much as she loved working with him at the bar. It was easy to see how working with his hands, concentrating on bringing life into the world, nurturing it, and watching it grow, was cathartic. Just like loving him.
As she laced up the boots he loved and threw on a comfy gray sweater, she wondered what he had up his sleeve this morning.
Downstairs, she found a Pillsbury cinnamon bun on a plate in the kitchen with raisins in the shape of the letter B on top, along with a cup of instant coffee. He was so thoughtful, but she had to laugh that his possessiveness carried over to the B on the top of the cinnamon bun. Could she fall any more in love with him? She quickly ate the bun, getting more excited by the second, and downed the coffee, which was too bitter, but Bullet had gone to the trouble of making it. It could have been thick as sludge and she still would have drank it.
She put her dishes in the sink and ran out front. “Bullet?”
He came out of the garage wearing his leather jacket and jeans and carrying something behind his back. “There’s my angel.”
Tinkerbell trotted over to Finlay, and she knelt to love her up, remembering the first time she’d seen her and screamed and the morning she’d come over to meet her. She’d been terrified, but Bullet and his family had made her feel safe, and they hadn’t stopped since.
Bullet knelt beside her and kissed her cheek. He’d trimmed his beard, but it was still long enough to tickle. “Hey, baby. I got you something.”
“Was that something a phone call from Penny?”
He chuckled. “Someone had to wake you.” He handed her a box wrapped in sparkling silver paper with a big pink bow around it. “She told me about your dad and his gifts. I hope you don’t mind, but I’d like to carry on that tradition of celebrating your milestones.”
Tears brimmed in her eyes. “Bullet? What’s this for?” she asked as they both rose to their feet. Tinkerbell leaned against her leg.
“Because you’re my girl.”
She untied the bow and lifted off the top. “Oh my gosh, is this leather?”
Bullet took the box as she withdrew a gorgeous black leather biker jacket with big silver zippers, just like his, only made for a woman.
“Turn it around.”
She did, and her heart leapt. WHISKEY’S was embroidered across the back in script. “You got me a jacket from the bar? I love it.”
He set the box down and gathered her in his arms. “That’s not a bar jacket, babe.” A spark of possession glimmered in his eyes.
“You’re branding me?” She giggled.
“Protecting.”
“More like claiming.” She tugged him down for a kiss and said, “I love it. Thank you.”
“Try it on.” He held it as she slipped her arms into it.
“It’s so soft. Does it look okay?”
He made a guttural noise and hauled her in for a greedy kiss, leaving her breathless.
“Wow. I like getting presents from you.”
“You look hot as fuck, baby. Seriously, I shouldn’t let you go out wearing those painted-on jeans and that jacket.”
“Let me? Do we need to have a talk about this?”
He chuckled and shook his head.
“Good, because now that I’ve seen your reaction, I’m going to make a point of wearing jeans around you more often.”
His arm swooped around her waist, and he lifted her with one arm and kissed her again. “You might never leave the house if you do.”
“I’m not sure my employers will be happy about that. You know, I have a real job now.”
“This employer has no qualms with you spending all your time in his bed.” He set her on her feet and put an arm around her neck. “Come on, babe. We’re going for a ride.”
He led her into the garage to his shiny black motorcycle and patted the leather seat. “Hop on, baby girl.”
“I’ve never been on a motorcycle before.”
“Until a few weeks ago you’d never had sex outside, and until two nights ago, you’d never had sex on top of the washer while it was running. I seem to remember you enjoying both so much, we needed repeat performances.”
She was unable to deny the thrill of either.
He put his arms around her again and said, “You can always trust me, baby. I’d never put you in harm’s way, and I promise to go slow.”
He tucked her hair behind her ear and his gaze softened and somehow intensified at once. “I love you, Finlay, and I want you with me when I ride. Please do this for me?”
“You…” Emotions clogged her throat.
“I love you, baby. I love how you stand up for what you believe in. I love how you believe in me and how you love Tinkerbell. I love you in your frilly dresses, and I love you lying naked beneath me. I love all of you, and I want, I hope, you’ll try this for me because riding is a big part of who I am.”
She could barely breathe as she struggled to keep the tears in her eyes from falling. “I love you, too.” She threw her arms around his neck and he lifted her into his arms, both of them laughing and kissing. “So much, Bullet. I love you so much.”
“Me too, baby.” Kiss, kiss. “God, it feels good to finally tell you.”
“For me, too.” She kissed him again, and as he set her feet on the ground, she said, “I’ll try to go for a ride, but if I get scared, you’ll stop?”
“Always, baby.”
“Where will we go? Do you have a favorite place you like to ride?”
“No. The open road has always been my place.”
He put Tinkerbell in the house and gave Finlay a lesson in motorcycle safety. She tried really hard to concentrate, but she was busy silently repeating everything he’d said about loving her so she’d never forget a word of it. When he helped her onto the bike and gave her a pink helmet with WHISKEY’S written in black cursive on the sides and said, “I had it made to match your jacket,” she fell even more in love with him. The emotions were so overwhelming, they mounted inside her, taking up all of her until she couldn’t keep them in any longer.
“I love you,” she whispered. “I love you more than words can say, Bullet, and I just want to tell you over and over again, so you never forget.”
“I’ll never forget, baby. But I hope you’ll never stop telling me anyway.”
