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“Cora?” I turn to find Judge, the MC president, standing just behind me. “Wonder if I can have a word?”
Suddenly nervous, I follow Judge through the patio doors and back into my kitchen.
Once we’re alone, he leans against the counter and folds his arms over his chest. “I couldn’t help but notice the president patch on that man’s cut. What would the president of an MC want with you?”
Sighing, I take a seat in the closest chair. I don’t want to lie to the president of the Black Hoods MC, but I also don’t want to tell him the real reason Big Dick was trying to corner me. “I haven’t seen him for years,” I admit. “But he may have heard some things that made him want to talk to me, but I don’t want to talk to him, ever.”
Judge’s jaw hardens as he stares at me. I expect him to ask more questions, but he doesn’t. Instead, he nods. “Beef with another club is a big deal, young lady. TK’s putting his neck and ours on the line for you, so that tells me you mean something to him. Make sure you remember that.”
I gape at him, shocked. I’d never thought about that. Big Dick is the president of a very dangerous MC. What will that mean for the Black Hoods now that they’ve stood up for me?
“Cora?” my mother’s voice calls out from the front hall. “Why on earth are there so many bikers in my—” She enters the kitchen at that moment and spots Judge. “Oh, hello.” Her eyes dart to mine. “Is everything okay here, Cora?”
Bless her. My momma is a wildcat. If I told her that no, things weren’t okay, she’d throw Judge out herself, right on his ass. But thankfully, she doesn’t have to. “Yes, Momma, it’s good. This is…” I pause, unsure of how to introduce him.
Stepping forward, Judge offers my mother his hand. “Name’s Judge,” he says. Momma accepts his hand and gives it a tentative shake. I can tell she’s dazzled by him. Hell, I’m twenty years younger, and Judge dazzles me.
“Nice to meet you, Judge,” she breathes.
Laughter erupts on the back deck, and we all turn to see my father, standing in the center of them all, telling one of his stories, complete with wild hand gestures. At some point during our conversation, TK and the others had climbed back down and were now being held captive by my father.
I watch as he holds up a finger, and then opens the sliding glass door. “Lynne, get the burgers and hot dogs out of the freezer. We have guests for dinner.”
I look past him and my eyes meet TK’s. Butterflies flip and twirl inside my belly at just that simple look.
And then he winks.
God help me.
TWATKNOT
If you had toldme this morning that me and the club would be having an impromptu cookout with Cora’s family, I’d have said you were crazy. Yet, here we stand in the back yard of her parents’ house with the grill fired up and music playing.
“You want a hot dog or a hamburger?” Cora’s dad asks with his oven mitt covered hand, waving around a spatula.
“Burger,” I say, then lean in and speak a little more quietly. “I apologize for invading your space here. We just didn’t want to leave Cora and the kid alone until you were here.”
“Pay it no mind. You boys helped my family today. It’s the least we can do to thank you.”
“It was nothing, sir,” I offer politely.
“Sir?” he chuckles. “Call me Jim.”
He takes a swig of his beer and returns to his work on the grill. Cora’s mom comes out of the house with two large bowls, balancing a plate on top of them. Lindsey spies her balancing act and sprints over to help by grabbing the plate and walking with her to the patio table.
Cora stands nearby, watching Harrison toss a ball back and forth with Grace and Delilah.
Taking in the scene, I can’t hold back my wistful sigh. I miss this, having a family that loves you.
My childhood had been pretty normal. Well, as normal as it could be, seeing as I was the misfit son of the local pastor. My parents had loved me as fiercely as Cora seems to love her son and parents.
When I joined the MC, they just didn’t understand, and I hadn’t tried to make them. Though we didn’t talk much more than a few times a year around the holidays, part of me still knows they ignore this part of my life completely, wishing it out of existence as their way to ignore my life choices.
“Between you and me,” her father says, pulling me from my thoughts, “arriving home and seeing all these bikers at my house freaked me the hell out.”
I can’t help but laugh. “I can certainly understand why it would. When I asked a couple of the guys to help me escort her home, I didn’t expect them all to come.”
“My wife and I appreciate what you did for Cora, but I have to know, who are you to my daughter?”
