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I nodded, bracing myself for his reaction. “Yeah.” I had never been before, but I had always heard about their delicious appetizers and bottomless drinks.
“Bring home an order of Southwestern Eggrolls,” he instructed without missing a beat.
“What?” I laughed, taken aback by his request.
“They are good,” he defended himself.
“Here, I thought you were going to tell me I was lame for wanting to go to Chili’s, but instead, you want me to bring food home,” I teased, feeling a sense of relief.
Yarder stifled a yawn, his exhaustion beginning to show. “Good food is good food, babe. I don’t care where it’s from as long as it’s good.”
I made a mental note to get him an order of Southwestern Eggrolls, feeling a surge of affection for his simple pleasures.
“I’m about thirty seconds from falling asleep, Poppy,” Yarder muttered, his voice heavy with fatigue.
“Me, too,” I yawned, feeling the weight of sleep settling in.
“I never used to be able to sleep for more than three hours before you showed up, Poppy. Now it’s like I can’t keep my eyes open from ten at night to seven in the morning,” he mused, his voice growing softer.
I smiled, feeling a rush of warmth at his words. “I guess you needed me as much as I needed you, huh?”
He held me closer, his embrace reassuring. “You have no idea, babe. I need you more than my next breath.”
“You’re my hero,” I whispered, the words spilling from my lips before I could stop them, my heart swelling with affection.
“Hero, huh?” Yarder pondered, a hint of amusement in his voice.
“Yeah,” I murmured, feeling a sense of relief at his acceptance.
He relaxed into me, his breaths slowing as sleep claimed him. “I like it.”
I closed my eyes, feeling a sense of peace settle over me. “I like it, too.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Yarder
We were at Russ’s house, a sprawling white mansion that exuded opulence from every corner. As we approached the large double front door, Compass couldn’t help but mutter, “I think I went into the wrong business.”
Opulence surrounded us, from the grand walkways to the meticulously manicured landscaping. The front door itself was imposing, and when Aero rang the doorbell, it played a twenty-second song, a testament to Russ Finley’s wealth.
While Aero, Cue Ball, and Throttle had gone out with the girls, Compass, Dice, Fade, and Stretch had accompanied me to Houston. Smoke and Pirate remained back at the clubhouse to take care of Harley and Davidson.
Russ opened the door right on time as the song ended, greeting us warmly as we entered. “Right on time,” he called, gesturing for us to come inside. “I figured we could meet in the dining room. There are plenty of chairs.”
I shook Russ’s hand as I entered, exchanging pleasantries. “How’s it going?” I asked, curious about his perspective on recent events.
Russ shrugged; his expression thoughtful. “Been pretty fucking quiet. I keep telling myself that has to be good, but god knows these days. I was pretty surprised when you reached out, but it makes sense to do this. Maybe you can offer Gibbs and Boone something that will get them off your ass and make them forget about me.”
I nodded, though I knew deep down that appeasing Boone and Gibbs wouldn’t be easy.
As we made our way through the house, passing through an ornate sitting room, we finally arrived at the dining room. The large table could easily accommodate twenty chairs, and Dice couldn’t help but chuckle. “Yeah, I think there is plenty of room in here.”
Taking our seats, the tension in the room mounted as we awaited the arrival of Boone and Gibbs. We positioned ourselves at one end of the table, with me seated in the middle, ready to face whatever negotiations lay ahead.
When the doorbell rang, the atmosphere grew palpably tense. Boone and Gibbs had arrived, and Russ excused himself to greet them at the door.
“You sure we don’t just want to shoot them both and call it a day?” Stretch proposed, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “I mean, I doubt Russ would finger us for it.”
