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Phoebe noticed all that before Duncan drew the attention of the people in the room to her.
“Hey!” he called over the clamor of play, conversation, and music—oh, there was music, too. Some country-folky singer-songwriter stuff she didn’t know.
Everybody turned, and Duncan, still holding her hand, led Phoebe all the way into the room. “I want you to meet my girlfriend, Phoebe Davis. Phoebe, that’s my dad walking toward us—Maverick.”
“Hey, Phoebe,” Maverick said with a smile. “Welcome.” When he held out his right hand, she noticed he did so stiffly, and his grip shook a little. It reminded her that he’d been stabbed in California, at the same time that Duncan’s face had been injured. She didn’t know most of what had happened out there, but he’d volunteered that much.
“Hi, Mr. Helm. It’s good to meet you.”
“It’s Maverick, please. Or just Mav. And it’s really good to meet you, too.”
“Hi, I’m Kelsey, this reprobate’s big sister.” A pretty blonde cut in with a big smile and offered her hand.
“Hi, Kelsey. Phoebe.”
“I know. He’s been talking about you a lot lately.”
Phoebe turned to Duncan and found him blushing. “Not that much,” he muttered.
Dex, Kelsey’s husband, and Hannah, Duncan and Kelsey’s baby sister, made their greetings as well. Even Tildy came over and demanded her chance to get in on the action. And the baby’s name was Ethan.
Everybody was warm and friendly and seemed genuinely glad to meet her. Phoebe was a little overwhelmed—the bright, lofty room, the warm fire and homey décor, the friendly people, it all seemed somehow alien.
Why, though? She had a good house of her own. Okay, it was a little, uh, well-worn, but it was her home and she loved it. She had a good family, too. Not a regular one, but Vin and Margot were totally her family, and she loved them. This was simply a bigger, shinier version of the same thing. So why did it feel so strange?
“Would you like something to drink?” Kelsey asked. “Dad’s got a bar over there with all the good booze.”
“Actually, I’m gonna take her in to meet Mom,” Duncan said. “We’ll get something after.”
He took her hand and led her through the room, past a large dining room with a table set for company, and into a large, modern kitchen. A pretty older woman with a shoulder-length auburn bob stood at the counter, shifting what appeared to be a roasted squash medley from a royal-blue Le Creuset into a glass serving dish.
If Phoebe could afford Le Creuset, that shit would be on the table. Fuck the serving dishes.
“Hi!” Duncan’s mom said with a cheerful smile as she set the pan on the stove.
“Mom, this is Phoebe.” There was a different tone in Duncan’s voice as he introduced her to his mother. A hint of little boy bringing a good grade home from school. “Phoebe, this is my mom, Jenny.”
Her mother had been a nightmare as a parent, but her father had been okay. Tried, at least. He’d taught her to respect her elders, and though, yes, she’d cast some of his notions of who deserved respect aside as ... problematic, it was not in her genetic makeup to call someone so much older than her by their first name. Not on first meeting.
Duncan’s mom was wiping her hands on a tea towel, so Phoebe didn’t try to do the handshake thing. “Hi, Mrs. Helm. It’s good to meet you.”
“Just call me Jenny, hon. Please.” She hung the towel on the oven-door handle and came over. Before Phoebe could put out her hand, Duncan’s mother swaddled her in a snug, warm, lingering hug. “I’m so glad to meet you, Phoebe.”
Phoebe relished hugs from people she loved, but she was not a casual hugger. At first, she was tense within Duncan’s mother’s embrace, but it was so ... what was it? Like, quiet. They’d only just met, but Duncan’s mother—Jenny—was hugging her like she was a member of the family. More even than that. She was hugging her like she knew Phoebe needed a hug.
And she wasn’t wrong. Phoebe settled in and hugged her back. “Hi, Jenny.”
This was an outlaw biker family?
She’d been completely honest with Duncan: she truly didn’t care about his outlaw doings, whatever they were, and she truly didn’t think anything they were doing outside the law could be anywhere near as horrible as any billionaire or the corporations they headed did on the daily within the law. However, she’d apparently had some preconceptions about what an outlaw biker life looked like, and those preconceptions were not consistent with this family as wholesome as a some TV movie family like the Pearsons or the Bravermans.
“Can I do anything to help?” she asked when they unclenched. “I’m not much of a cook, but I’m very good at taking directions.”
“Phoebe brought pie, I think,” Duncan interjected, holding up the evidence.
“It’s sour cream apple. I hope it’s not an imposition to bring dessert. My friend Vin is a wizard in the kitchen, and he would have slapped me upside the head if I’d come to dinner empty-handed.”
Jenny took the pie from Duncan. “No, it’s wonderful! Thank you. I’d planned sundaes for dessert, so that’s an easy switch—and an improvement.” She set the holder on the counter and removed the lid. “Oh wow! It’s beautiful. And it smells amazing.” Turning back to Phoebe with a smile, she asked, “Vin—he’s one of your roommates, right?”
