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“Me!” King yelled, before lowering his voice. “Look, I know what this looks like. I’m the fucking president of the damn club and thanks to Scribe’s big mouth, the brothers think I’ve lost my damn mind. But damn it, Chase, I want Bailey to know that I really love her. That I’m willing to give her the wedding of her dreams. She had nothing growing up. Not a damn thing. Is it wrong for me to want to give her this?”
“No.”
“But it’s not Bailey, King,” I whispered. “Bailey isn’t about white dresses, bouquets of flowers and five tiered cakes. She couldn’t care less about that stuff. Bailey may not have had the best childhood, but she knows what she wants. What she likes. What’s the harm in letting her have the day too? In the end, all that matters is you two are married. No one is going to care about everything in between.”
“She’s really going to hate everything, isn’t she?”
“Yeah, bro,” Chase nodded. “She is.”
“Fine,” King growled. “I’ll call and cancel what I can. But I’m keeping the cake. Not giving that shit up. When I tasted the chocolate and raspberry cake Beth made, I damn near fucking died. I’m getting that damn cake.”
I smirked, shaking my head. “Just think about the woman you are marrying, King. Ask yourself what Bailey would like and then do the complete opposite.”
Muttering to himself, King walked off talking about stubborn, pain in the ass women.
Shaking my head, I headed for the trailer when Chase grabbed my hand. “Where are you going, baby?”
“To work, unless you need something else.”
Chase smirked. “Well, I can think of one thing.”
He didn’t give me a chance to ask what before he claimed my lips in a searing kiss.
Sitting at the desk, I was going over this week’s invoices, getting ready to send them off to King, when the company phone rang. Picking it up, I said. “Montclair Construction. Skylar Montclair speaking.”
“Mrs. Montclair, this is principal Kellerman at Rosewood Elementary School. I’m sorry to bother you, but do you have time to talk for a minute?”
Sighing, I muttered. “What did my brother do now?”
The man laughed. “Nothing as of yet.”
“I’m sorry. I don’t understand.”
“I’m calling about another matter.”
“And that is?”
“As you know, Rosewood Elementary School is a state-of-the-art Magnet School. We take pride in our ability to ensure that the children that attend receive a well-rounded scholastic education, in everything from the arts to sciences.”
“Yes. Cameron loves science and is excited about the science fair before the holiday break. It’s all he talks about.”
“Yes,” the man cautiously muttered. “That’s why I am calling. I am sorry to say this, but Cameron will not be permitted to participate in the Science fair.”
“And why’s that? It’s my understanding that the fair is open to all students from kindergarten to the fifth grade.”
“It is, but it’s recently come to my attention that Cameron will be submitting a fully functioning still.”
“That’s right. I still don’t see a problem here.”
“Mrs. Montclair, I know that you just recently married a member of the Sons of Hell motorcycle club.”
“Yes. Chase Montclair. What does he have to do with this?”
“Are you aware how the Sons of Hell make their money?”
“I fail to see how the club makes their money applies to this.”
“Mrs. Montclair, while this town appreciates everything the Sons of Hell do for the community, this school does not condone the use, consumption or distribution of alcohol to minors. While your husband’s affiliation is his own business, I cannot allow your brother to showcase how alcohol is made. I’m sorry, but my decision is final. Maybe he can try again next year.”
