“I’m an early riser,” he explains, raising one shoulder as if it’s no big deal, “always have been. My Patsy is a light sleeper.” He blows out a breath through his nose, and I barely stop myself from giggling. “I don’t want to wake her, so I come to the clubhouse for a cup of coffee and to, you know, be around if I’m needed.”
Something in my chest softens and I walk closer to him, leaning against the side of the table. Close, but not crowding.
“I bet it’s hard with both kids grown up, and not having the same responsibilities as when you were VP,” my voice is soft, the words landing right between us instead of making him bristle.
He looks up at me with something like awe written on his features. “You’re a good girl, Graycie. Smart. Kind. Tenacious.” The smile on his face is slow to bloom, but when it does, it reminds me of his son. “You know,” his words take on a teasing tone that has me bracing, “if you were to give me some grandbabies, I think I wouldn’t feel so purposeless.”
I make a tsking sound and shake my head in admonishment. “I know you did not just try to emotionally blackmail me into having babies.”
He has the wherewithal to look sheepish. He’s not quite as ashamed as he should be, but I’ll take it. “I’m just saying there’s no real reason to wait,” he tries to backpedal.
I chuckle softly and finish my coffee. “Uh huh,” I tease him.
Still, his words do give me pause. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about Turner telling me he’s trying to get me pregnant. Having kids was always something I wanted. Maybe I just wanted a chance to do it better than my parents did, than my mom did. Still, I wanted it.
Then things went south with Sylvester and the last thing I wanted was to bring a child into that fucked up situation. There was no fucking way.
But now? With Turner? With this club as our family? With this town helping to create a village which feels real instead of performative?
I desperately want it.
With a tilt of my head, I take Warden in. “You would make an excellent Grandpop though.”
The smile on his face threatens to overtake it and warmth fills my chest. Family. It echoes through me and fills the cracks I never knew could be filled in before.
“Grandpop,” he does a little shimmy as he tests out the words. It’s adorable. “Now,” his eyes meet mine, the amusement gone, “are you going to tell me what you’re doing up so early?”
I freeze for a moment, but it’s long enough. I’m sure I don’t have to say it, but I might as well. “I’m going to work.” I put a lot more bravado into the words than I’m feeling. “I was told I’m not a prisoner, that I can go to work.”
Turner did say that, but he was clear about having someone with me. Which is the part I didn’t quite get worked out.
I think Turner thought I was going to stay here again today. I admit, I needed the time, to get my head on straight with everything going on.
But now I need something different. Now, I need the normalcy and the routine of the bakery.
“Who is taking you and keeping watch?” He arches an eyebrow as he asks the question, the challenge clear.
“Uh,” I start and then press my lips together as Warden scrubs a hand over his face. “Well,” I try again, “I’m not sure if Turner is aware of my plans to go to work today, but I never said I wasn’t going. He’s the one who told me I could go,” I try to reason with the biker in front of me.
By the look on his face, he’s not impressed with my logic.
“Yeah, that’s not going to fly,” he grunts before standing and giving me a pointed look. “I’ll take you and keep an eye on you. It’ll give me something to do other than whatever my Old Lady wants.”
“I thought a happy wife was a happy life,” I tease.
He chuckles and shakes his head like he can see right through me and my attempt at deflecting. He wouldn’t be wrong.
“You’re lucky I was here, Graycie,” he chastises me.
Maybe another person would be annoyed by him being in my business. Not me. This is as close as I’m going to get to a dad giving a shit about me. I’ll never turn my nose up at this, even when it’s frustrating and annoying.
Because it comes from genuine care, maybe even love.
I try to wave him off as he heads toward the sink and rinses out his cup before holding his hand out for mine. “Really,” I try again, “I’ll be fine. You don’t need to follow me.”
“Graycie,” he breathes out, his eyes intense and so much like his son’s when he looks at me, “my son, who I have raised withlove and to respect the fuck out of me and his mom, would slit my throat if I allowed you to walk out of this clubhouse without any protection. Then if something were to happen to you?” His large body shudders, literally fucking shudders. “I don’t even want to think about what he would do.”
“So,” I narrow my eyes at him, “what you’re saying is that by letting you come with me and keeping an eye on me, I’m saving your life?”