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He took the stairs two at a time until he reached the main level. The aroma of corned beef, steamed potatoes, and blueberry cobbler hit him the instant he crossed the threshold to the dining area. Mouth watering, he grabbed an open seat and sat next to Rubble.
“You think we’re ready for the Twelve Brothers?” he asked, snagging a roll from one of the baskets on the table.
Rubble looked away from his phone. A shiver ran down Doc’s spine when the other man’s peculiar eyes connected with his. He’d probably never get used to the heterochromia paired with a shaved head covered in tattoos, but somehow it fit the bulky man who he’d heard used to be special ops for the Marines.
“I’m always prepared, Doc. But if not, I have a few tricks up my sleeve. With the lodge and our armory, we can hold them off until reinforcements arrive.” Rubble tipped back his bottle of Guinness.
Doc buttered the roll and took a bite. He’d be on edge until this whole kerfuffle was finished.
Rubble answered a call, and Doc couldn’t help but notice the man’s furrowed brows before he stood and walked out of the room. Brewer took the spot on the other side of Doc and nudged him with a beer.
“I brought an extra. Want it?”
“Definitely.” He took a long swig. Irish beer was the only kind the club kept on hand, and he was still getting used to the dark stout.
Brewer slapped his back. “You like our beer yet?”
“You work the bar, right? Can’t you get some American shit?”
“I could, but then I’d have to keep more labels in stock at the clubhouse and here.” He shook his head. “I like the simple life.”
“Yeah, yeah.” He took another drink, this time the taste growing on him more than the last. Not having eaten since breakfast didn’t hurt either. “Whose kids are those?”
Glancing over at the five children at the smaller table near the kitchen, Brewer smirked. “Cueball’s twin boys, Legs and Snoopy’s little girl, and Boulder’s grandkids. They haven’t been around much lately.”
“Snoopy has a daughter?” Doc’s eyes bugged at the thought. “And Cueball is a dad?”
Brewer smiled behind his bottle. “Weird to think, isn’t it?” He rested his elbows on the table. “They’re all actually really good parents.”
Doc watched Snoopy swoop down and tickle his daughter, who couldn’t have been more than three years old. The little girl giggled and hugged him. It was touching in a way to know even members of a motorcycle club could have children who thrived despite animosity. He sighed, knowing he was proof of that after hanging around bikers as a youngster.
“Hey, isn’t that your Irish girl?”
“She’s not my….” His words fell flat when he looked in the direction Brewer pointed. “Holy shit.”
Isa breezed through the door, shoulders back and a confident smile spread across her face. He gripped the beer bottle harder as his eyes raked over her body. The beautiful minx was outfitted in a shirt that turned every male head. Her jeans accented shapely hips and thighs and led straight to her black boots with a small heel. In his opinion, she didn’t need a lick of the makeup on her eyes and face. He had to admit, though, she looked striking all done up.
He shoved Brewer’s arm when he saw the other man ogling. It was selfish to want all of her to himself, but he couldn’t help it.
“What? She’s not taken, right?” Brewer chuckled and patted down his red hair with his fingers. “Think she’d be interested in a second-generation Irishman?”
“Don’t you have a girl?”
Finishing his beer, Brewer stood. “Nymphs don’t count, Doc.”
Isa reached them before he could say a word. “Hello.”
Her Irish accent washed over him, the silky tone giving him goose bumps.
“Hey, yourself,” Brewer replied, smiling enough that his dimples popped into view. “You look like someone special I know.” He tapped his lips as if trying to remember. Snapping his fingers, he pulled out a chair for her. “That’s right, my future old lady.”
Doc stood abruptly, chair screeching on the hardwood floor. He glowered at his brother, but the other man merely gave him a shit-eating grin.Brewer is fucking with me.He felt several curious eyes turn to them.And it’s working.
She sat in the offered chair and started chatting with Brewer once he joined her.
Pounding the rest of the beer, Doc wiped off his mouth as Queenie and the nymphs brought dinner to the table.
The food looked delicious. Reaper said an old Gaelic blessing, and everyone dug into the platters heaping with potatoes and meat.
