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Shit. Guilt hit hard. Brooke had spent sixty days straight caring for his son while he’d been in a too-fucked-up state to do it himself. Of course, she missed the little guy. If he wasn’t such a selfish asshole, Lock would have thought of it on his own and brought Caleb by sooner.
“Don’t give me that look,” Brooke said, warning in her tone.
He flinched. “What look?”
“That guilty, I’m-screwing-up look. I won’t have it. I didn’t say that to make you feel bad. You don’t have anything to feel bad about. I’m just excited to hang with my favorite human. Okay?”
Yikes. Brooke could be fierce as fuck when she wanted. It made sense, considering she’d chosen an MC president as her partner. “How does Curly get away with anything around you?”
“He doesn’t.” She beamed and bounced Caleb on her hip. “No, he doesn’t,” she added in a sing-song voice. “But I’d let you get away with anything you wanted because you are too cute to say no to, aren’t you?”
Caleb squealed with laughter.
“Is there anything better than the sound of baby giggles?” She blew a raspberry into Caleb’s neck, setting him off again.
If there was, Lock had yet to hear it.
“Come on in the kitchen. I made some fresh lemonade and sandwiches.”
He frowned but followed. “You didn’t have to do that. I hope you didn’t go to any trouble.”
She waved away his concern as she walked toward the kitchen with Caleb. “It was less than no trouble.”
His next client wasn’t for another two hours, so he strolled behind Brooke. He entered the kitchen expecting an empty room, only to draw up short at the shocking sight before him. Cold fear slithered down his spine. Five pairs of curious, no downright nosey, eyes stared at him from around Brooke’s center kitchen island.
“What is this?” he asked as he stepped back from the female firing squad.
“Told you this was sus,” Jo muttered as Liv’s grin went from welcoming to calculating.
“Whatever do you mean?” Liv asked in a tone dripping with honey.
Honey laced with arsenic.
“Yeah.” Harper blinked with an innocent grin. She was the only one he’d have believed if she pleaded ignorance. “We’re just here for a lady’s lunch.”
Too bad she sucked as an actor.
Traitor.
Though he deserved far more from her than a grilling, hell, he should probably let her haul off and smack him across the face a few times. Not that she ever would. Harper was too damn sweet.
“Lemonade?” Liv held out a full glass so icy condensation dripped onto the counter.
Lock eyed it as though it’d poison him. “Thanks…” He took the glass but didn’t sip. They all continued to stare at him with varying levels of poorly hidden curiosity. His gaze bounced from one to another before he finally sighed. “All right, fine.” He rolled his eyes. “Let’s get this over with. Who’s firs—”
“How’s Brenna?”
Liv, of course.
“I imagine you know how she is since you meet with her at the shelter almost daily.” Three weeks had passed since they’d slept together, and things were good. Crazy good. They woke up together most mornings, spent free days playing with Caleb on the beach, ate dinners together, and fell into bed together for long, hot, steamy Florida nights.
“You know what I mean. Don’t play dumb, mister.”
“Yeah,” Rachel, the youngest of the group, piped up. “We wanna know how she is… in bed.” Her giggles set off the others who, by the smell of it, had something a little more than lemonade in their glasses.
“Are you even old enough to know what sex is, Rach?”
She flipped him off. “I sure am. Old enough to know what it is and old enough to excel at it.” Her smug grin made him cringe.
