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“Brenna, this is Caleb. Caleb, can you say hi to Brenna?” He waved, and the baby mimicked him with an awkward open and close of his palm.
She pasted on a kid-friendly smile. “Hi, Caleb,” she said as she waved back. “Aren’t you a cutie?”
He giggled and clapped his pudgy hands.
Ah, hell. It’d be a miracle if she made it through the next ten minutes without ripping off her clothes and demanding Lock plant one of his babies inside her.
“Can I get you anything?” he asked with an easy grin. “I don’t have any alcohol in the house right now, but I’ve got water, soda, baby formula.” He chuckled. “Actually, I may have a few White Claws one of my brother’s ol’ ladies left last week,” he added as he grimaced like they were the most offensive beverages in the world.
Brenna’s head spun. She couldn’t take it anymore. “What are you doing?” she asked with more venom than was probably wise, given who he was.
He studied her, relaxed as could be. “What do you mean?”
She waved her hand in his direction. “This whole I’m-a-normal-guy act. I thought I was here because we’re supposed to pretend you bought me from Oliver. I thought you wanted help getting your money back. I already said I’d do it. You don’t have to pretend you’re not… I don’t know, in a gang or whatever.”
She froze. Idiot. Why did she call it that? Would the switch flip now, turning him into the hard-core biker she’d anticipated?
He laughed.
Guess not.
“Come with me to the kitchen. I gotta get this guy fed before he revolts. Trust me, you don’t want to see that. If you think my club is scary, we’ve got nothing on a hungry ten-month-old.”
She stared as her head began to throb. “I, uh… okay.” What option did she have? She hurried after him into a small kitchen where he was settling Caleb in a highchair with motorcycles on the cushion. As if they had a mind of their own, her lips curled into a smile at the sight.
Who knew a motorcycle highchair was a thing?
“Here,” he said as he went to the refrigerator, pulled out a watermelon White Claw, then handed it to her. “You look like you could use a drink. Sorry, it’s not something stronger.”
“Um, thanks.” She popped the top and took a sip—anything to take her attention off Lock and how his arm muscles rippled as he moved about. The last thing she needed was to have a sexual awakening over the man pretending to own her. She gulped her drink. Too bad there wasn’t a bottle of vodka to beef this guy up.
“You lived around here long?”
Small talk? Now they were making small talk? Was he going to ignore everything she said?
“Yes.” She swallowed her sip. “My whole life.”
He nodded and made a noise of understanding. “So you were around when my president, Curly, ran another club. When he was arrested?”
“Uh, yes. I was a kid, but old enough to remember and have a basic understanding of what was going on. I think I was in my early teens. Now the news says he’s innocent and was wrongfully convicted.”
Lock nodded as he screwed the cap on a baby bottle. “Yes, to all of that. But it’s his story to tell you sometime. Since you were around then, I’m guessing you’ve heard all sorts of rumors about MC life.”
She paused with the can near her lips. “You could say that.”
Chuckling, he shook the bottle. As soon as Caleb saw it, the baby shrieked and smacked his little hands on the highchair tray. “Stop acting like you’re gonna say something that’ll set me off,” Lock said. “I don’t offend easily, and I won’t lose my shit on you. Say what you want.”
“Okay.” She set her drink down and looked him in the eye. Damn, his eyes were a light brown, almost golden color. Did he wear contacts?
Doesn’t matter!
“Uh, back then, everyone knew that club sold every drug imaginable, trafficked weapons, ran prostitution rings, and had a hand in just about every other crime. Everyone had heard the stories about the orgies and how they treated women. There were all sorts of crazy rumors swirling around. Still are.”
“You’re not wrong. That club was a shit show. Curly will be the first to tell you.” He finished shaking up the bottle and set it on the tray. Caleb immediately reached for it with both hands and shoved the tip into his mouth. His cheeks worked fast as he downed the contents.
This was the second time Lock had referenced Curly sharing his story with her. That would never happen. This collaboration would be over as soon as Oliver returned the club’s money. And if she got her way, that’d be tomorrow.
“You have no reason to believe me, but our club is nothing like the rumors you hear.”
