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“It is, but we’re not going to talk about it. Just eat, Poppy,” Yarder said firmly, his gaze unwavering.
“I will,” I replied quietly, feeling a bit ashamed of my habits.
Yarder reached across the table and grabbed my hand, his touch warm and reassuring. “I don’t know exactly what your life was like on your own, Poppy, but I can tell you right now that you don’t need to make the choices you used to make anymore. Eat until you’re full, and don’t worry about anything else. Take seconds,” he said, a hint of playfulness in his voice.
I didn’t want to take advantage of Yarder or have him think I was using him. “You don’t need to pay for me,” I protested weakly. “Two eggs and toast are more than enough food for me.”
Yarder leveled his gaze on me, his expression serious. “No, it’s not.”
I wouldn’t have been able to afford the two eggs and toast, let alone what he had changed my order to. Never in a million years would I order that much food. “I’ll pay you back once I get back to work,” I insisted.
“You think I’m going to make you pay for your breakfast when I’m the one who asked you to come out with me?” he asked incredulously.
I really didn’t know what to think. For the past few days, I was clueless about what was going on and what to do.
Yarder took a sip of his coffee and shrugged. “We’ll figure that out when we get there. For now, I’ve got you, babe,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.
I added some creamer to my coffee and silently stirred it, feeling a sense of warmth and gratitude wash over me. No one had ever had me before.
“Before I was in the MC, I lived on the streets. My parents both died when I was fifteen and instead of going into the system, I ran away. I know about the choices you have to make and how sometimes you don’t have two nickels to rub together. I’m sure all the money you’re making is going right into that dump of an apartment that they charge way too much for,” Yarder said, his eyes locking with mine. “Though that’s better than living on the streets.”
I had lived on the streets before, and from where I was to where I was now, I was living in a mansion. But I still knew it was a hellhole by normal standards.
“I’m not a charity case,” I whispered, feeling a lump form in my throat.
Yarder leaned back in his seat, his gaze softening. “I never once thought that, babe. You’re fucking strong. Ninety percent of the world couldn’t handle the life you live. I just know when I was where you are, I would have killed for someone to just look at me and not see some hopeless bum,” he said, his voice filled with sincerity. “I see you, Poppy. I see everything you are and everything you are going to be.”
I blinked back the tears, refusing to let them fall. Sobbing like a baby was the last thing I wanted to do, especially in front of Yarder. He was strong, smart, confident—damn near perfect. It was hard to imagine that he had ever been homeless, considering there wasn’t a thing about him that could clue anyone into that.
But there was a glimmer of hope knowing he had been down like me before, and now he was here. It made me feel less alone in my struggles, knowing that someone as capable as Yarder had faced similar hardships.
Setting my spoon on the saucer, I took a sip of my coffee, using the moment to compose myself. I didn’t want to dwell on the past anymore. Yarder understood where I was coming from, and that was good enough for me, at least for now.
“So, what kind of errands do you need to run?” I asked, eager to change the subject and focus on something else.
Yarder smiled softly, his eyes warm and reassuring. “You’ll see, babe.”
Yarder
“Pick one?”
I nodded and crouched down next to Poppy, eyeing the litter of German Shepherd puppies as they frolicked around the fenced backyard of the farmhouse.
“They’ll be ready to go home in two weeks,” the breeder said.
Poppy glanced at me, her eyes wide with excitement. “Just the two are available?”
The breeder, a middle-aged woman with a warm smile, nodded. “Yup, the other three are spoken for. The green and purple collars are still looking for their homes.”
“How are you supposed to pick one?” Poppy whined, her fingers gently brushing against the fur of the puppy with the purple collar as she cradled it in her arms. “She’s so cute, but then her brother is just as cute.”
“Well, one easy way to decide which one you are going to get is to decide whether you want a boy or a girl,” the breeder suggested.
Personally, I didn’t have a preference. I wanted a dog for the clubhouse—a guard dog and companion rolled into one. I needed a pup that could be ferocious to intruders but gentle with our members.
“I’m good either way,” I replied, scanning the playful bunch of puppies.
The one with the green collar caught my attention as it waddled over and stood on its hind legs. I reached out to pet it, feeling its soft fur beneath my fingers.
