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"If there is a bottle of wine open..."
"Always," he assured me, giving my shoulder a little squeeze before dipping inside to fetch it for me.
"Hey," Nixon's voice joined me a moment later. "You okay?"
"Sorry. I will go back in there in a minute and play my part," I told him, taking a deep breath.
"That's not what I asked, Reagan," he clarified, moving across the front porch toward me.
"I'm fine. That is just... it is a lot of love to take in," I told him. "It's actually a little overwhelming."
"Yeah, I get that," he agreed, dropping down onto a rocking bench, patting the space next to him. "I came from a close-knit family to begin with, but that was a lot for me in the beginning too."
"Those women are a--"
"Trip?" he filled in before I could find the right word.
"That works," I agreed, nodding.
"I think Peyton and Krissy would be fast friends," he mused.
The thought hadn't occurred to me, but he was right. "I didn't realize there was a biker in the family."
"This incestuous town," he said, shaking his head. "Autumn and Peyton are sisters. When Autumn shacked up with Eli Mallick, Peyton got pulled into the fold. She ended up shacking up with a Henchmen. So now he is part of the family too. Savea is Peyton's best friend. She became family as well. Then she and King finally got their heads out of their asses and started something up."
"I think Helen likes me," I told him, voice a little small, finding it actually mattered to me that the matriarch of this crazy, amazing family liked me. "I voted yes on the ball chopping," I added, smiling a bit at how that sounded, sure I never could have imagined those words would ever come out of my mouth.
A low chuckle moved through Nixon at that. "Yeah, that'll do it," he agreed, putting a hand on my thigh just above my knee, giving it a squeeze. "Wouldn't have thrown you into a lion's den if I didn't think they'd be nice to you, babe."
"Sure you would have. You wanted Helen to let you eat."
"Well, that is true," he agreed, not even bothering to look apologetic. "Did they put you right to work?"
"Well, when they learned I didn't really have any cooking skills to speak of, they let me stand by and soak up the atmosphere instead."
"You can't cook at all?"
"I mean... I can feed myself if I need to," I said, shaking my head. "I make a mean sandwich. It could win awards."
"Yeah? Don't tell them that. They'll have you making them for the next event."
"I really like them," I admitted.
"I do too," he agreed, his hand giving my thigh another squeeze. Then staying there.
I knew I should have told him to move it, or crossed my legs so it would fall. Something. Anything. Because I needed to remember that we were playing at a date. Nothing more. It could never be more. Even if my lips were still tingly and swollen from his hungry lips earlier. Even if that pulsing sensation was coming back full force once again.
"Atlas and Kingston know."
"Yep."
"That doesn't worry you?"
"King minds his own business. I'll probably get a lecture later about not fucking clients. And then will have to remind him that you're not a client. It will be fine."
"And Atlas?" I asked, remembering the glee that seemed to be in his eyes.
"Atlas will get his rocks off by ribbing me about this shit for the next year or two."
"They won't tell your other brother? Or your sister?"
"As you can see, Rush is wrapped up in his flavor of the week," he said, jerking his chin toward another guy who looked just like Kingston, Atlas, and him, who had his arms dangerously low on the back of a woman wearing a second-skin kerchief dress. "And Scotti, well, she's probably just happy I found a woman who could stand my presence for an evening. She's going to let it drop at that, so she doesn't run you off."
"You're really not that bad," I told him, shaking my head, wondering who made him think he was so unpleasant to be around.
"I can be."
"What? Because you're a little grumpy? I think it's kind of cute. Like a little old man stuck in a thirty-something body."
"Think I'm cute, huh?" he asked, and his eyes were actually dancing. It was such a striking look on his otherwise rather severe face that I felt the odd urge to reach down and place my hand over his on my knee, gave it a squeeze.
Luckily, Kingston suddenly appeared, giving my hand a purpose so I didn't make any more mistakes.
Soon, I was missed in the kitchen, was ushered back into the chaos, drinking my glass of wine, laughing at the stories the women told, lending a hand when something didn't require actual cooking. Loading biscuits into a basket. Moving food from pots into serving wear. Sprinkling croutons on top of the salad. They were silly little things, but somehow made me feel very much a part of the family. And, well, I liked it a lot more than I ever could have anticipated, being taken into the fold, being treated as one of their own.
