Lara huffs out a breath, but I glance over and catch the pride in the smile she hides by looking back at the pan on the countertop.
“Good,” there’s love in Lara’s voice, “I’m almost done.”
“I know,” Vanessa sasses, “this isn’t day one or anything.”
“Hey now,” Lara scolds her without any real oomph behind it, “it’s too early for you to have so much attitude.”
“What attitude?” she throws back at her mom.
“Uh-huh,” Lara drawls and rolls her eyes.
After she gets cleaned up and Vanessa gives me a little side hug, I’m left in the quiet of the bakery. There’s comfort in how the kitchen settles around me. But it also has me listening harder to the world beyond these walls.
Just in case.
Because you can never be too careful.
The order of the kitchen, the need for the recipes to be followed exactly, allows me to think over how much better my life is in Dogwood Ridge. I never want to see my parents again.
I sure as hell never want to see Sylvester again.
Hopefully, he doesn’t find me. Ideally, he’s not even looking for me.
CHAPTER 2
SNAKE
Ryker is the last one to sit at the table, the one which has been used for church since the Dogwood Ridge chapter of the Saint’s Outlaw MC was started. Ryker’s dad, Jackal, sat in the President’s chair and now his son does.
I know the man is proud. It’s pretty fucking obvious, considering the way Jackal struts around the clubhouse most of the time. Even now, from his spot along the wall, he lookspleased as punch.
Jackal and the other brothers who used to sit around this table as officers of the club don’t always show up for church. They’re retired from the table, and we respect the fuck out of it. Considering how much they each gave to the club, they’ve earned the right to relax. Still, we’re not going to turn down their input.
“Let’s get this done,” Ryker rumbles. “I have a date with a shot of moonshine and some pussy.”
The grin he flashes is sinister and I can’t help but think he needs a challenge. Things have been too easy for the man, which I’m allowed to think that because he’s one of my best friends and my club brother. He’s not the only one who has been handed down a chair at the table.
Warden, my dad, sat in my chair once upon a time. When he handed it to me, he slapped me on the back, and then took my mom, Patsy, to see the world. They came home and settled into retirement. They’re loving it.
Right now, they’re over in Nashville for a concert. If they weren’t, Warden would be sitting next to Jackal with matching expressions of being far too pleased with himself.
I’m not planning to tell either of them to stop that shit any time soon.
They can be pleased, but we’re restless.
Ryker needs a challenge when it comes to a woman. The same way I do.
I’ve been turning down the club whores recently and people are starting to notice. No one has organized an intervention. Yet.
I’m just not into it. Fucking someone I know my brothers have all been with? I didn’t used to care, but I do now.
And the hang-arounds just think they’re going to get a property patch. Fuck no. Not going to happen. If they were going to become Old Ladies, none of us would have waited to make it happen.
“Dogwood Construction is going strong,” Ryker tells us. He goes first, something about leading by doing. I don’t fucking know. He read some fucking leadership book or something. “We’re going to start on the new apartments next month and they should be ready to go before fall.”
“That’ll bring in some good money,” Diesel pipes up. “Let’s meet about the timeline and when a spec apartment will be done.”
Ryker gives him a chin lift in acknowledgement. They’ll get the meeting on the books since Diesel manages the properties the club owns. Jackal started it by renovating a few homes that were going to be torn down. Turns out, they were more valuable as homes than rubble.