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“Are you not feeding them?” Kevin’s question is sharp enough to cut.
Trina flinches.
“Okay, that’s enough.” Lottie puts a finger up in Kevin’s face. “Not one more word. Toby, Katie—with me.” She snaps her fingers, and the two kids jump beside her. Lottie takes one of their hands in each of hers. “We’re going to walk back home and wait for Mommy and Daddy to have a conversation. Okay?”
“Fine.” Katie drops her chin. “But can we have ice cream later?”
“Maybe,” Lottie concedes. “Come on. Let’s go.”
“Good,” Toby grits out, mean-mugging his own father. My heart squeezes at the sight of the anger in that little boy’s face. My divorce was painful, but seeing these two kids in the middle of Trina’s separation makes me grateful I never had little ones to go through it with me.
Lottie starts walking with the kids, and when they’re outside, Kevin turns to his ex-wife. “Are you trying to keep me from seeing my own goddamn children, Katrina?”
Katrina stiffens and opens her mouth, but before she can answer, a loud, rumbling noise starts growing outside. And growing. And growing…until half a dozen motorcycles appear outside the café windows, parking in a neat line against the curb. The first rider to dismount and remove his helmet is a very familiar, very sexy man who I last saw when I was slightly inebriated about a week ago.
Mac Blair is sex on a bike. The man handles clay like he was born to do it—and apparently motorcycles too.
He walks into the coffee shop like he owns the place, all leather and attitude, closing the distance between him and Trina in a few long strides. He wraps his arms around her shoulders and tugs her close, brushing his lips against her cheek in greeting.
Trina looks shocked. Horrified. A little flustered—and I’d bet anything she’s more than a little turned on.
“Hey, gorgeous,” Mac says loud enough for everyone to hear—probably because no one is moving a muscle as this little spectacle unfolds. “You want to go for a ride this morning?” His voice drops, but I don’t miss a word. “Been thinking about having those legs hooked over the seat of my bike all week.”
Holy moly. I’m about to get married, and even I feel a little turned on. Eyes wide, I glance at Simone, who looks about ready to faint. Then I look at Kevin, who looks ready to explode. Then I glance at Grant, who has a little grin teasing over his lips when he watches the flush creep over my cheeks, as if he knows he’ll reap the rewards of anything that turns me on when we’re alone.
Trina just opens and closes her mouth like a goldfish until her ex-husband, Kevin, now red-faced and flustered, takes a step toward them.
“Who the fuck are you?”
CHAPTER 12
Mac
Trina snaps out of her trance. “Kevin, watch your mouth.”
“How about you don’t whore yourself out to a fucking biker gang, huh? How about that?”
Trina flinches against me, and I feel about ready to rip this motherfucker’s head off. Tucking her behind my back, I turn to face the sniveling, sorry excuse for a man in front of me. “That’s not an appropriate way to speak to a lady.”
The man scoffs. “Lady? That’s rich.”
A hand on my shoulder makes me pause the slurry of insults about to spew out of my mouth. Trina appears by my side, taking a step sideways to put a bit of distance between us. I try not to let it sting.
She crosses her arms. “I wasn’t expecting you until tomorrow, Kevin.”
I frown. She was expecting this shitstain?
Trina glances at me. “Thank you for the offer, Mac, but I won’t be able to ride your motorcycle today. Unfortunately, something came up. Maybe another time.” Her spine is steel-straight, her chin held high. Admiration warms my chest at the sight of her, strong and proud in the presence of the man across the room who no doubt wants to cause her pain.
“I’m going to tell my lawyer about this, Trina,” the shitstain says, his lips curling in disgust.
“Last time I checked, motorcycles weren’t illegal, Kevin,” Trina snaps. “And last time I checked, you signed the divorce papers. Oh, and last time I checked, you definitely have no right to speak about my relationships. Or have you forgotten that you cheated on me for years?”
Is it wrong that I’m kind of turned on by this? I glance at the door, where my father, brother, and Harold are standing near the entrance.
Then the door opens with a loud bang, and the White-Haired Lady Crew comes rushing in.
Dorothy greets my father with a loud kiss on the cheek. “Welcome! Oh my, what an entrance! We heard you all the way from the hotel and had to come say hello.” She waves another man in, a tall, grey-haired gentleman with a kind face and a shiny bald spot on his crown. He shakes my father’s hand.
