Royce: Northern Grizzlies MC Royce.

Book 8 M. Merin
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Royce, Northern Grizzlies MC, Book 8
Copyright 2024 Maura O’Brien
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 Royce

Northern Grizzlies MC

(Book 8)

M. Merin
Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Epilogue
Thank You
Additional works from M. Merin
About the Author:
 Prologue
Spring 2019
Royce
Sitting on my bike, I’m still shaken by the encounter I had at the liquor store earlier today. I could feel someone watching me,
but looking around I didn’t notice anyone out of the ordinary.
At least until my eyes panned around again and I saw him—a guy sitting in a Honda, with a couple of baby seats in the back.
He was looking at me with so much rage, I actually wondered if he was going to run me down. Shrugging him off, I headed
inside the store and grabbed a few bottles of tequila, more than enough for the weekend.
When I came outside, he was standing between me and my bike; hands fisted at his side. Fuck it, I thought, and continued
straight to my bike, waiting in vain for him to say something.
“I know you?” I asked him, when I was within a few feet of him.
“You know my wife!” he snarled and I swear his eyes welled up with tears.
“Okay, say hello for me,” I said, flippantly, and kept on walking.
“You don’t even know who I’m talking about. You don’t give a shit about her, about me, about what you’ve done to our kids!”
he bellows next as he points back to his car and this time I notice a little tow-haired kid, straining to look to see what his dad is
doing.
This guy not only has my attention, but that of all the shoppers in the lot around us.
“Listen, buddy, you’re right. I don’t know who the hell you’re talking about or why you’re giving me shit, when I’m not the one
who broke a vow.”
“She was out with friends. Drunk, I guess, and fucked you. Next thing, they’re all running to that clubhouse of yours every
chance they get. I get home from my night shift to find my kids alone in the house, and why?” His voice is barely above a
whisper, as he stands toe-to-toe with me. “Because she can’t get enough of your dick. Chrissy told me she sometimes has to
wait for you to finish with other women in line before her. That she doesn’t care as long as she gets a taste.”
Chrissy? I have no fucking idea who he’s even talking about, but the next thing I know he’s holding his phone up with a picture
of two little kids; including the one that has unbuckled his strap and crawled into the front seat of his dad’s car.
I tear my eyes back from that little guy, my stomach rolling in disgust.
“They keep asking me why their mother left them, Royce,” he says, tears rolling down his face. My eyes are shifting between
the little kid in the Honda’s driver’s seat, and this man who has the balls to confront me. “How do I fucking tell my babies why
their momma left ‘em? How do I keep my kids from being hurt anymore?”
“I didn’t know…” I start awkwardly.
“You didn’t care! You’re a selfish bastard who just fucks his way through life, aren’t you?” He’s barely able to control his
voice as he continues to stare daggers at me. “Now I’ve got to pick up the pieces.”
I catch my breath and focus on the man in front of me; all I can think is that if this was any of my brothers, they’d be swinging at
me already. And more than likely with a knife, gutting me.
That’s when it hits me. What Jake and Connal have with Charlie, what the others have found—this man thought he had that, and
I, unknowingly, played a part in his bitch of a wife leaving him.
“Man, I am truly sorry.”
“Tell her I’m divorcing her.” His voice is barely above a whisper, nodding his head more to himself than to me, he turns and
walks back to his car.
I’m left standing, watching his taillights until I hear a horn honking and spinning around on the uneven pavement, I fall forward,
stretching my empty hand out to brace myself against the ground.
Shit! Fuck, my hand! Looking at it, it’s got a serious case of road rash with little pebbles imbedded in it. At least I didn’t break
the bottles.
Heading straight to my bike, I stow the tequila and head a few blocks down to Connal’s garage.
“Forget something?” Charlie calls out when I pull inside.
“I need to clean my hand out,” I say, holding it up and she immediately points to the sink before walking over to the first aid kit.
“It’s my left hand, I can get it.”
“Shush, it’ll make me feel good to be healing you for once,” Charlie sasses back to me and I can’t help but to grin down at her.
“Hey, I think there’s been someone partying at the clubhouse, a Chrissy? Do you know who that is?” I ask, hoping she doesn’t
dig for information.
“No idea. Part of your ‘townie fan club’?” she responds, and I shrug. “Wait! You don’t mean the new bartender, do you? That
might be her name, she has pink hair—is that her?”
“I don’t know, someone mentioned her to me and I don’t know…”
“Any of the women’s names?” Charlie cuts me off with a derisive snort, while staying focused on removing some of the gravel
from my palm. “I mean, no offense.”
“That was pretty offensive,” I tell her, trying to sound like I’m upset, but all she does is laugh at me. “Hey, is your party still a
go for tomorrow night?”
“Yeah, thankfully it stopped raining, but just Grizzlies and family—we don’t want strays trailing through our home, got it?”
“10-4, big mama!” I snap out, trying to be cute.
“Hey!” Charlie snaps out, slamming her foot down on mine, before putting the tweezers back in the First Aid kit.
“Fuck, Charlie!” Shit, I didn’t mean big. I’m pretty sure that’s a common saying.
“Ready to go, baby girl?” Connal asks and I can tell he was watching us. “See you tomorrow, Royce.”
“Yeah, I’ll lock up when I leave,” I assure him, as Charlie gives me another glare and heads to their truck.
“She’s still sensitive about the baby weight, jackass,” Connal tells me as he walks past me, with a smack over my head, before
he leans over to inspect the damage. “Your hand alright?”
“It’s fine.”
*
Pulling up to Jake and Connal’s house tonight, I can see the party has already started—not that I have much hope for it. Charlie
was cleared to drink recently and the three of them got her grandparents to take their daughter to their nearby home tonight, so
they could have us all out at their place.
Too many townies have been partying at the clubhouse lately, and even before meeting that guy in the parking lot yesterday, I’m
honestly getting sick of their shit.
Not to mention, I found myself sneaking in and out the back door of the clubhouse last night and this morning, so I wouldn’t run
into anyone who could possibly be this Chrissy chick.
My role in the MC is changing, I’m still getting hours in at the garage, but I’ve started training with Shade. Just ‘cause he wants
to take a step back from his previous career, doesn’t mean those type of jobs are going to go away.
I figure I have two options with my life: I can either learn a new skill and advance with the Northern Grizzlies, or I can spend
it as the low man on any runs that are needed and put in my time at the garage.
I’ve gotten to an age where I want more, and somehow, that need has even leaked over to my sex life. I want more than the next
bitch that has heard the rumors about my dick. And God help me if I don’t bring a girl home to meet my mom in the next year or
so.
“Is it going to be that bad?” A soft voice from behind me asks, nearly making me jump off my bike.
“Fuck!”
“I’m sorry, I…” Stepping forward, she looks from me to the house. The light coming from the windows shows off her pale skin
and blue eyes. As she steps forward to stand beside me, I can’t help but run my eyes down over her body.
“Fuck,” I whisper the word this time, and her eyes dart back to me. “Your name isn’t Chrissy, is it?”
“What a weird question to ask,” she says, her voice barely louder than the music streaming from the house. Smiling suddenly,
her whole face lights up when she says, “I’m Molly.”
Hoisting the boxes in her arms from waist level to cover her chest, I can clearly see the logo for Molly’s Bakery and my eyes
widen—I’ve had those baked goods at the garage and the clubhouse.
“Shit! Why don’t you just come with me, and we can find someplace to enjoy whatever you got in those boxes?” I’m
completely serious, but she lets out a laugh.
“Maybe this won’t be that bad,” Molly says, more to herself than me.
“Now you’re the one saying weird shit,” I counter, even as I try to figure out if we’ve met before.
“I don’t really go out much,” she confides in me before she starts to ramble on. “I have to be up so early for the bakery. I mean
I’m not opposed to day-drinking from time to time, but I swear all the women I’ve gotten to know in this town are either
pregnant or just had a baby.”
“That pretty much tells me that you’re friends with all the Ol’ Ladies,” I say, fishing for information on her. Finally swinging my
leg off my hog, I reach out to help her with the larger of the two boxes she’s carrying—only to have her take a step back and
glare at me.
“Charlie said not to hand off the goods to anyone before I got inside. And I quote, ‘those assholes will make off with them’, and
technically, you admitted you would.” Her eyes flash with humor and I hold my hands up in surrender.
“True. But I wanted you to come with me, so that’s got to earn me some points,” I counter, winking at her and enjoying the flush
on her cheeks.
“Molly! There you are,” Connal calls from the door. “Charlie sent me to look for you. Here, I can take those boxes.”
“Hmpf. I’ll wait and give them to the hostess, if you don’t mind,” Molly answers back with soft laughter in her voice as she
walks toward him, dodging his attempt to relieve her of the boxes of sweets.
“Hey!” I call out and she looks over her shoulder. “I’m Royce.”
“Smooth,” Connal laughs at me when she just continues past him and into the house.
Following him inside, I enjoy the time I spend hanging with my brothers and the Ol’ Ladies, plus some of their friends. Keeping
an eye on Molly at all times has me fluctuating from pissed off, to turned on.
Watching her, I go from thinking she’s pretty to beautiful. From the way her eyes get animated when she talks, to how she tilts a
bottle of beer into her mouth; I quickly become mesmerized.
She’s on the quiet side and doesn’t wear much makeup—not that she needs it. As the night wears on, I get ticked off as I see my
single brothers all try to move in on her.
The more I watch her, I start to realize that she has no idea they’re even hitting on her. Molly’s cheeks flush way too often for
her to be comfortable with guys paying her all the attention she’s getting tonight.
When she gets up and heads down the hallway toward the bathroom, I give her a couple minutes before following her.
“Trinity! Please, this is something I have to do.” I can hear Molly’s voice from outside the bathroom door and lean in to hear
more clearly. “I know she’s an ass, but you have to deal with her until you graduate, sweetie.”
Molly sounds like she’s about to cry when she speaks next, “I’ve tried, Trin, your dad isn’t interested in my opinion.”
Next, she swears a time or two, then the door is yanked open and Molly nearly runs into my chest, since I literally had my ear
pressed against the door.
“I’m sorry!” she says automatically, before she recognizes me. “Oh, hi. Again.”
“Everything alright?” I ask, curling my finger under her chin and lifting her head so she has to look at me. “What’s got ya
crying, baby?”
“I’m fine,” Molly answers, letting out a shuddering breath.
“That wasn’t even a little convincing.” I lift an eyebrow and slowly shake my head back and forth as I maintain eye contact
with her.
“Hey, can I get in there?” Smithy’s Ol’ Lady asks, motioning past us to the bathroom.
I nod and grab Molly’s hand, tugging her further down the hallway until the next door. Luckily, it’s a guest room and not baby
Gemma’s room.
“Tell me what’s wrong?” I insist, hitting the light and closing the door behind Molly.
“In short? My uncle’s bitch-tastic fiancée is making my cousin’s life miserable. I lived with them after my grandmother died.
And I helped raise Trinity since her mother died, so it breaks my heart when she calls me freaking out all the time,” she vents to
me and I’m relieved that it doesn’t sound all that bad. “Sorry you asked?”
“Obviously, I can’t help with that situation and it sucks, but I wanted to make sure you were okay,” I answer awkwardly; I
mean, what can I actually say about handling a teen I’ve never met. “How about the party? You having fun?”
“I don’t think I would have had the guts to walk in tonight if I hadn’t seen you out in the yard,” Molly whispers shyly, her wide
blue eyes holding mine. “You looked, I mean, I don’t know—I felt a bit lost when I was outside and wasn’t sure about coming
in. And, well, when I first saw you, I could tell you were thinking about something deep and maybe felt a little lost, also.”
“That’s a good way to put it. Lost. I have been for a while now, but I think I’m finally ready to get my shit together,” I admit,
lowering my voice and leaning down closer to her as I say the most honest thing I ever have to a woman.
Molly’s lips pull to the right, in a fraction of a smile as she tilts her head to the side. Jesus Christ, how can one person make me
feel so comfortable, so fast? That thought flashes through my mind right before I brush my lips across hers, ready to pull back if
I’m reading her wrong, but she leans up and hungrily kisses me back.
Wrapping my arms around her, I take a second to hit the lock on the doorknob behind her. I know there’s a bed at my back, it’s
just that I can’t get enough of her mouth, so I decide to play it slow for once and stick to kissing her.
I thread my fingers through her silky curls and cup the back of her head, tilting her to the perfect angle as I deepen our kiss.
When her arms wrap around my shoulders, I slide my hands down her sides, outlining her hips.
“Oh, no,” she gasps, pulling back. “Us bakers are really conscious about our hips…”
“Let me be the judge of that,” I say, kneeling before her and tightening my grip on them. The fleeting thought of only kissing her
seems ridiculous now.
Kissing her stomach through her shirt, I look up at her and see her nervousness again.
“Give me a taste?” I ask, even as I’m reaching for the snap on her jeans. She studies my face before nodding and I wonder what
she sees, until another thought freezes me in place. “Wait, you are single, right? Not in a relationship or married?”
“No. Yes, I’m sorry, I mean I’m single,” Molly trips over her words as one of her hands glide through my hair. “Are you?”
“Yes. Absolutely single,” I assure her. Opening her zipper, I quickly lower her jeans, just low enough to grant me access to her
pussy and am surprised to find her bare underneath—I sure as hell didn’t take her for a commando type of girl.
Molly opens her mouth as if to explain, but her words are cut off when I part her folds and use my tongue to search out her clit.
“Oh my God,” she moans, and the hand she had run through my hair is suddenly gripping my head, while the other one is
grasping the door frame. “I’m sorry, I didn’t shave…”
“Relax, Molly, I wouldn’t be down here if I didn’t want to be,” I assure her, looking up at her face, but her eyes are squeezed
shut.
For the first time in my life, I have a battle raging inside of me. There, on my knees before her, I decide that my dick’s staying
in my pants tonight. As I suckle on her clit, I promise myself that I’ll get her number and ask her out on a legit date.
Molly’s breathing becomes more and more ragged as her hips buck against my mouth and I know she’s close…
“She’s not in the bathroom, maybe she’s out back?” A slightly muffled voice pierces through our bubble and we both freeze.
“Fuck, I’ve got to win that goddamn pot!” The next guy’s frustrated tone is clearly outside the room and the doorknob jiggles.
“Bet if I took her home, she’d even make me breakfast in the morning.”
“Maybe she’ll take us both. What’s her name again?”
“Molly. She’s got that bakery on the town square, dumbass.”
I stand up, gripping Molly’s shoulders and looking between her and the door; wanting to go out there and beat the shit out of
whoever set up a bet to bed her, just as I realize how hypocritical that would be.
“What?” Molly looks up at me, exhaling the word like she’s in pain. “There’s a bet?”
“I didn’t know, baby. I swear…”
“No!” She pushes me away from her as she pulls up her pants, her fingers fumbling with the closure as she sucks in deep
breaths, with streaks of red suddenly lining her neck.
I reach out for her wrists, holding them above her head with one hand and catch her chin with my other.
“I swear on my mother’s life, I didn’t know about any bet,” I tell her. “Let me help you with this and I’ll walk you to your car.”
Reaching down, I fasten her pants.
“They’ll all think we hooked up, Royce,” she nearly sobs. “I guess that means you win.”
“I’m going to be out of town for a few days, but let me take you out next week, Molly?”
Turning away from me, she opens the door and heads down the hall, I’m worried about what she’ll be facing so I follow
behind.
“Shit! Of course, Royce got there first,” one of the prospects calls out as he looks over her shoulder to see me trailing behind
her. Seeing Molly’s back straighten up and the suddenly ridged line of her shoulders, I know she thinks the worst of me.
“He remains the reigning champion!” Someone else yells.
Not that I don’t deserve the glare she directs at me, I just wanted things to be different for once. Different with someone like
her.
As soon as she emerges from the hallway, she cuts over to talk to Riley, who’s standing with Gunner and some of the guys.
Within seconds, Shade is giving me a dark look and moves to intercept me when I try to beat Molly to the door.
“Asshole,” he says loudly, before toning it down. “Christ, Royce, she’s like Jessa’s best friend. I’m still on thin ice with her, so
I better not get any blow back from this.”
“I didn’t know there was a goddamn bet, Shade. Or that she’s Jessa’s friend,” I say loudly, hoping that she’ll give me the
benefit of the doubt before she leaves. “I was hoping to take her out, but we overheard the others talking and she got the wrong
idea.”
“Okay. So you’ll make it right with her,” Shade says, nodding to himself. “Just do it soon. Cause any shit I catch over this is
rolling downhill, got me?”
“Or, you know, I could make it right because I’d like to take her on a date.” I want him to understand, that me making things
right with Molly has to do more with my happiness than his. “Not because of you threatening me, asshole.”
“Right.” Shade’s grin turns into a laugh as he walks away shaking his head.
Unfortunately, Molly’s gone by the time I look around again.
 Chapter 1
Molly
“What do you mean Royce isn’t having a birthday party this year?”
I sigh as I package up the cupcakes the women, girls really, ordered. They’re always in here buzzing over parties at the local
MC’s clubhouse and sobbing over the ‘taken’ members.
Having only been in town about seven months, I’ve been lucky enough to make a handful of friends; some of whom are even Ol’
Ladies, but I’ve never had any desire to experience a crazy night out at the clubhouse. Considering how it ended, the only
Northern Grizzlies party I attended was enough. Sheesh, and that was a low-key gathering at Charlie’s house.
Royce swaggered into the bakery nearly a week after that night, expecting me to have forgotten everything and telling me when
he’d pick me up—for a date that I never agreed to.
That didn’t happen, but he still—never mind. The important thing is that my bakery is successful, and if I have to sacrifice
having a life to work six days a week, so be it.
It’s not like I moved to Rowansville for its happening social scene. Letting out a sigh, I admit to myself that my reason for
moving here is causing me more frustration than some of my clients.
Despite my annoyance, I can’t help but smile at my last thought. I’ve really done it. From the time I was a child, I wanted to be
a baker. Some of my earliest memories were spending afternoons in the kitchen with Mom and Grandma as they tirelessly
showed me how to bake from scratch.
Even when Mom’s cancer treatments took so much out of her, she would sit beside me and gently instruct me on each step of the
process.
My grandma’s catering business soon outgrew her kitchen and while her employees did most of the work in the new location, it
was in her home that she got creative—understanding the need to constantly reinvent timeless favorites with new twists.
“Speak of the devil!” one of the girl’s trills out, bringing me back to the present, and I turn in time to see the man that at least
half the single women in town whisper about, walking in like he owns the place.
Instantly, the three women turn toward him, hanging off his arms and cooing at him. Even going so far as to offer to all entertain
him the night of his birthday, if he doesn’t want a party.
Ignoring the scene, I push their box toward them, then busy myself making Royce’s latte with an extra shot of expresso and
heating up a stuffed croissant. He may be fucking most of the women in town, but since that night, he’s become one of my best
customers so I’m not going to screw up his daily order.
“Come on. Back the fuck off,” he finally growls after trying to get them to release his arms for a few minutes. “Let me enjoy my
break in peace.”
“How are you doing today, sweetie pie?” he says, winking at me as he’s reaching for his morning fare, dropping in today’s
dessert-inspired endearment like he’s original and witty.
“Molly,” I correct him.
“Can I call you ‘Sugar’?” he asks, reaching up to wipe something off my jaw.
“No,” I snipe back.
“Ya know, my birthday’s coming up soon.” Royce puts his palms down on the counter and leans across toward me.
“Seven bucks for your breakfast. Did you want to me to bake you a cake? We can talk about flavors and pricing,” I retort,
hoping he’ll finally catch a hint that I will only talk business with him.
“Only if you’ll jump out of it,” he shoots back and the women behind him suddenly turn glacier expressions in my direction.
Ignoring them, I reach my hand out for the money. Instead, he grabs it to pull me closer to him. “Come to dinner with me, Molly.
You know I’ll make you feel so fucking good.”
I blush full-on red and get angry, certain that today he’s dialing up his flirting and talk of a date because his little fan club is
hanging on every word. Pulling back from him, I narrow my eyes and ask for payment again. I’m not playing this game,
especially in my own shop that I’m still trying to establish.
Turning him down doesn’t stop him from continuing to ask me out, except from that day forward, the women also become
regulars. Even occasionally asking me if I’m interested in joining their morning work-out sessions as their eyes take in the
swell of my hips.
Am I thin? No—I fucking create the most amazing pastries and baked goods. I have to try them. I’m up by four, at the latest,
depending on how much I feel like prepping the day before. Just a couple of months ago, I gave myself the breathing room of
closing the shop one day a week, but I can’t afford to hire anyone else yet.
I’ll get there, but I have to prove to the bank that I can keep this place running, or my credit will be shot. I could fall back on the
money that my grandma left me, but that will make me feel like I’ve failed her and mom.
When I’m done with work for the day, I occasionally meet up with Jessa, Tabby, or Riley; but really, getting to the small room
upstairs and pulling on pajamas and binging on shows after being on my feet all day is my favorite thing in life right now.
Even though that isn’t advancing my mission, the reason why I chose Rowansville in the first place.
It’s later the following week, when I’m pulling muffins out of the oven that I hear yelling coming from the street. Looking over
at the clock, it’s just past five in the morning, so I’m more than a little surprised that anyone else is even up at this hour.
Next, I hear glass shattering and it feels like a weight drops through my stomach. There’s only one thing that could be.
Stepping back, I see what I was most afraid of.
In my rage, I can’t even make out the figures in front of me, just that there’s a pool of glass on the floor of my shop and nothing
where my storefront window should be.
Royce is standing on the sidewalk with his jaw hanging open. I finally notice a guy in a matching cut, trying to carefully stand
up—laughing as he shakes like a wet dog, and spraying glass all over.
“Motherfucker!” the guy cries out and as I slowly approach, I can tell he’s drunk as a skunk. “You fucking pushed me, you
asshole!”
Royce’s eyes catch mine and I can see—no! I don’t care if he looks sorry as hell...What on God’s green earth am I going to do
with most of my storefront missing?
“I’m calling the cops and you are paying for this!” I screech, sounding surprisingly winded.
There’s no holding back the tears in my eyes. I’ve worked too hard to create this place! It took nearly two months after I
ordered the decal of my logo, to be delivered and placed on the picture window, and now it’s destroyed.
Not to mention that I don’t know how I can be open for business today and everything that I’ve already baked will go to waste.
“Oh my God, my insurance will go through the roof.”
“Please!” Royce pleads, stepping over the base where the window used to be. “Let us take care of it. No cops, no insurance.
We were just fucking around, waiting for you to open. I swear to God, I’ll get this taken care of for you, Molly.”
“Oh, so this is the girl that won’t fuck you again,” the other guy hiccups out and I notice that his hands are bleeding, even if he
doesn’t. Turning to me, he continues in a sing-song voice. “Didn’t you enjoy the surprise in his pants? The club whores all
seem to…”
“Fucker, we never… Just shut it,” Royce says firmly, gripping his shoulder and giving him a little shake. “Dude, your hands.
Molly, can he rinse them off? I’ll make some calls and get this taken care of for you.”
More worried about the blood in my store than the man bleeding, I lead him back to the bathroom and inspect his hands,
worried yet too much of a coward to pull the bits of glass out.
“Thass okay,” he slurs. “Royce’ll get Roy…”
“Sit down,” I say, pretty certain he’s just babbling since I don’t know what good Roy could do in this situation. I shove a stool
under his ass and talking to him like I would a child, I turn on the water and insist he doesn’t touch anything.
Next, I check that my ovens are turned off and I grab a broom, moving up front to get started on cleaning up. Oh God! It really is
a disaster. I look around again, this time the trail of blood makes it look even worse.
Royce is standing outside and is barking at someone over his cell, holding a finger up to me. “I got this, babe. Don’t lift a
finger.”
I narrow my eyes and shoot him the bird.
He throws his head back laughing and I want nothing more than to strangle him in that moment.
Looking over his shoulder, I see my first client, an ER nurse who had placed an order with me, pulling up and wave at her
frantically—hoping she’ll still accept her order. On top of everything else, I can’t afford to lose that sale.
I scurry to the back and grab the boxes I had prepared, turning on my heel, I almost collide with Royce and if not for him
steadying my arms they would have crashed to the floor.
“You can’t be back here!” I growl at him.
“We’re past that now, sugar,” he says, and I turn my head trying to escape the whiskey breath that rushes out at me. “Guys are
going to be pulling up ‘round the back, I gotta unlock that door.”
I barely hear what he’s saying as I carry the boxes outside, trying to act dignified as glass crunches under every step I take.
“Hi, Nikki,” I say, smiling brightly. “Sorry for the craziness.”
“Oh, Molly! I don’t know, are the pastries…”
“Nikki, I promise I had them all packaged and ready to go a good twenty minutes before this happened. I would never
jeopardize your safety, and you know I appreciate all that you do for this community.”
“Oh, of course. Here’s a check, I hope that’s alright. Please let me know when you’re up and running again,” Nikki says,
stowing the boxes in her trunk. Her early shift at the hospital has necessitated a special pick up time, not that it bothers me,
since I’m up anyway.
“The kitchen is functional and clean!” I call out, attempting to reassure her, but even I can hear the desperation in my voice.
Behind me, I hear Royce barking out orders and I turn to see a couple women with sulky looks, along with four bulky guys
coming in from the back of my shop.
“Royce?!” I huff out.
“Baby, I told ya, you don’t gotta lift a finger,” he calls out as scantily dressed women start to sweep up the floor and a guy
breaks away the rest of the glass left in the frame.
Oh no. I thought the word scantily. It’s like I’m a twenty-one-year-old version of my grandmother.
Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath and try counting to ten.
Wait, what number do you count to when you’re not sure if you’re going to murder someone or lose your mind? Ten doesn’t
seem high enough.
“You’re in the way,” a woman tells me, sounding thoroughly annoyed.
I apologize and move toward the back. I’m just behind the counter when I realize that I shouldn’t act like a scolded school girl.
It’s my goddamn store!
Royce looks at me from the doorway of the bathroom and I narrow my eyes at him.
“Told you I’d take care of everything, sugar.” He smirks at me.
“I’m calling the sheriff. I’m not okay…” Quick as a snake, his arm loops around my waist and he pulls me out the back door.
“Mols, you gotta work with me here. I fucked up, but I’m making it right, there’s no need to involve Michaels and your
insurance company. I don’t want any blowback on the MC.” He has me pinned against the wall and looks at me so earnestly.
I must be losing what’s left of my mind, because my entire body reacts to the sincerity I hear in his voice and see in his eyes.
My nipples feel like they’ve hardened into points and I can’t resist the pull I feel in that moment. Without making a conscious
decision I start to lean up to meet him halfway, at least until he pukes.
Royce barely has time to turn his head as an Exorcist-worthy stream of vomit spews from his body, hitting my shoulder, then the
wall beyond me.
Holy. Mother. Of. GOD.
What was I thinking?
I loathe this man.
One look at the mess on my arm has me heaving, about ready to join him from the smell and sight of what he’s done. I swear I
hear my uncle’s voice in my head singing out: This is what happens when you ignore your better judgment.
“It’s too fucking early for this shit.” I hear a growl from behind me and I see Flint looking at Royce in disgust.
Holding onto my last piece of dignity, I strip my apron off, thankful for the tank top below it and ball it up as I keep my eyes
pinned on Flint. I simply cannot deal with vomit, never could, so right now, the stern expression on his face is definitely the
lesser of two evils.
“He promised to fix this, that he doesn’t want Michaels involved—I want everything settled by tomorrow or I will burn your
clubhouse to the ground!” I bellow at Flint. Besides being my landlord, I would typically consider him to be friendly, but I’m
beyond that right in this moment. Stomping past him to go upstairs and shower, I can’t help adding, the obvious. “He puked on
me!”
 Chapter 2
Molly
An hour later, the noise from downstairs has died down and I wait another half an hour, not so much to pull myself together as
to avoid seeing anyone who witnessed my tantrum.
The kitchen is spotless.
There is no sign of any of my baked goods, except the special orders labeled in the refrigerator.
Peeking past the counter, I see plywood in place of my window and Flint sitting at a table, drinking a coffee. A pile of cash in
front of him.
“This is what I figured you would have made today,” he says, calmly indicating the money. “I had the goods delivered to
Northern Grizzlies families. A new window is on order, and I’ll need the information about your signage.”
“I have that upstairs,” I say, nervously. Feeling a ‘but’ coming.
“You got off to a shit start today. I get that. Royce, however, immediately called our people in and started to make it right. And
yeah, getting puked on sucks ass, but what you need to be very clear about is that a patched member of the Northern Grizzlies
gave you his fucking word everything would be taken care of, yet you turned around and threatened me. And my MC.
“My wife likes you, as do many of her friends, but you need to understand that words are important, so listen closely, little
girl.” He takes a deep breath before standing up. “I’ve owned this building for longer than you’ve been on this Earth and as of
twenty minutes ago, I pulled in a favor and bought your business loan.”
Flint’s face is completely neutral and while my jaw drops open, I can’t form any words. I can see he understands that, as he
stops directly across the counter from me. “Never make a threat you can’t back up. Same terms on the loan, but I’ll be
collecting it in cash, the first of every month.”
He circles the counter, and I’m frozen in place as I hear him cross the kitchen, leaving via the backdoor. When the door closes,
my legs crumple, as though no longer able to hold my weight.
The words I’ve heard so many times since moving to Rowansville, echo through my head. The Northern Grizzlies own this
town. And now, it would seem, they own me too.

Royce
Later that day, after some sleep, a greasy meal, and a long-ass shower, I make my way down to spar with Shade. He’s been
teaching me the finer points of knife fighting.
Thankfully, we use wood blocks that Gunner carved, that we dip in red paint as proof of wounds inflicted during our training
sessions. It’s been slow going for me, even after I managed to shed some of the excess weight that I had carried for so long.
There’s a huge difference between being a big guy who can throw a punch or two to end a fight, to the techniques I have had to
learn to avoid the thrusts of the blade while waiting for an opening to strike out at my opponent.
Shade makes it look like a dance, and while he’s always been smooth on the dance floor, I’ve long been the guy who jumps up
and down to whatever metal song comes on.
More and more, I find myself trying to emulate his easy gait and I smile thinking about how my mom wouldn’t let my sister out
of the house in high heels until she learned to walk in them. ‘Are you wearing the shoes or are they wearing you?’ was a phrase
heard for a solid year, in our small two-bedroom home.
In my mind, the same rules apply to knife fights. I have to make the weapon an extension of myself and not something that I’m
barely holding onto.
While I gave Charlie a shit-ton of grief for all the accidents that occurred when she started at the garage, I know they were
partially my fault. Grace is not something that comes naturally to either my sister or myself, it’s only now that I understand how
hard she worked to walk confidently in those heels of hers.
We didn’t have as much as the other kids in our neighborhood, but we were the house that everyone always flocked to when
we’d be stuck inside on crappy days and Mom was very proud of that. I let out a sigh, knowing I need to get back soon for a
visit.
“Royce.” I look up to see Flint has entered the gym, tilting his head to indicate I should join him.
“Hey, I’m just waiting on Shade,” I tell him, knowing that he’s probably going to tear into me about the debacle at the bakery
earlier.
“I told him to give us a minute,” he says and leans against the wall. “Here’s the short version of the talk I usually dole out. My
interest here is in our MC and the building that houses the bakery. The look in Molly’s eyes earlier when she said she’d burn
our club to the ground? I’ve seen enough crazy in my lifetime to recognize it when it is staring me down. Walk away.”
“No. She isn’t like that…” I start, wanting to defend her, sitting on a bench near him.
“I’m old and I have zero interest in getting into a conversation with your dick. I’ve given you my two cents. We pull together to
clean up messes, just don’t go looking for trouble or you will have to live with the fallout,” Flint says, his knees creaking as he
stands up and glares down at me.
That day is the first time I truly had the upper hand when sparring with Shade. He grinned and slapped me on the back as we
were heading upstairs. I didn’t have the heart to tell him, my win was more about channeling my frustrations than his teachings.
*
“Hey, Charlie,” I call over to her from the lane I’m working in. “If I buy, will you go pick up lunch for us?”
“I thought I saw your lunch in the fridge,” she answers, and I frown at the underside of the beat-up Volkswagen I’m working on.
It’s been days since I’ve had anything from Molly’s Bakery and my mouth waters every time I drive by the shop. Which I’ve
been doing more than necessary.
“Well yeah, but I wanted a fresh coffee and…” I stop when I hear her snort.
“I’m not getting dragged into your drama, llama,” she replies, and I hear her slide out from under Old Man Miller’s truck.
Typically, I could have used my seniority to get that job, but she’s totally charmed the old grouch, so he doesn’t want anyone
else touching his family’s vehicles. “Just go apologize to her.”
“I did.” I stop myself from yelling that, but just barely.
“Before or after you puked all over her?” Charlie asks, and I close my eyes. Like everyone else, she’s heard some version of
the story.
“I did not puke all over her. Just a little on her shoulder,” I bite out the words, then slowly exhale, my nostrils flared in
annoyance.
“Considering she turns green when she sees Danny or Gemma spit up,” Charlie retorts, invoking not only her daughter, but the
son that Shade, accidently, fathered with Jessa. “I’m not sure how much she differentiates that.”
“Well, I can’t exactly make it better if I’m not allowed in her bakery anymore,” I mumble under my breath.
“Damn, now all I can think about are her muffins,” Charlie says after a moment, and I roll out from under the car I’m working
on and try giving her my most endearing look. “What do you want me to get for you?”
“Oh, thank God! If she has any puppy chow, I want all of it. Same with her croissants, and one of each of everything else she
has on display. Then, a medium latte with an extra shot,” I tell her, silently forgiving Charlie for every time she hurt me.
“Woah! That’s a whole latte stuff!” Charlie cracks back, laughing at her truly horrible joke as I frown and pull my wallet out of
my pocket. “Come on! That was funny!”
“It was almost as painful as the first time you made coffee and nearly killed me,” I tell her, before catching the look on her face.
I throw her a wink to soften my words, but I firmly believe that laughing at people’s puns only encourages them. “Here, this
should be plenty for mine and yours. Tip her. Just not an obnoxious amount because I don’t want her to think I’m trying to buy
my way into her good graces.”
With that, I keep working when she goes to make the run. It’s nearly lunchtime when Connal pulls up with their daughter and
realizing she’d been gone nearly an hour, the two of us are scratching our heads, wondering where Charlie could have gotten
to.
“Can you keep an eye on Gemma, while…” Connal starts, before squinting his eyes, like he just remembered who he’s
speaking to. “Never mind, I’ll give Charlie a few more minutes.”
Just as we turn to head inside, Charlie pulls up and my stomach twists into a knot when I see the cat who ate the canary smile
on her face.
“You owe me. Big,” she calls out, as I head toward her SUV. Since she’s popped the back hatch open, I walk straight there to
start unloading the purchases and my stomach rumbles at the scent that rolls out.
“The box on top is mine,” she tells me, coming around with three coffees in a little carrier. She doesn’t offer to help me carry
the boxes, but reaches up to close the hatch and follows me inside. “Molly just knew that I was there on your behalf, especially
because the order included all of that puppy chow that you love. And she almost turned it down, except then that awful lady
who just opened the combined yoga studio and holistic store, showed up.”
I shake my head, having no idea who or what she’s talking about.
“Well, she came in and interrupted my order to pick up some gluten free bread that she had ordered. I, graciously, told the
woman that I would wait, since I wasn’t in a hurry, but I could tell Molly was mortified. So, she gets the two loaves of bread
from her case and the woman doesn’t even thank either of us. She had opened the door, but next thing I know she’s right back
next to me and pretending I don’t exist, again.”
“Do I need to kill someone?” Connal asks with a smirk on his face, entering the break room in time to hear the end of that. I
reach for my coffee and eye the boxes, trying to figure out where to start.
“Possibly,” Charlie replies as though she’s thinking about it, before taking Gemma from him and indicating his coffee. “The
shrew then wants to confirm that the bread is vegan. Molly’s like, no, you ordered gluten-free, which has eggs in it. The bitch
loses her shit and wants her money back; she had paid for it in advance since gluten-free bread is considered a special order.
“Well, Molly has a very clear policy of no refunds on special orders, and now the customer’s yelling about it being Molly’s
fault and that everyone knows that gluten-free and vegan are, quote, virtually synonymous.”
“Christ, is Molly okay?” I ask, wondering if the woman is leasing space from Flint.
“The sheriff walked in right about then, and asked if there was a problem,” Charlie says, trying to take sips of her coffee and
bounce her daughter at the same time. “The woman looks from him to me, like she just realized I was there, then leans across
the counter to Molly and whispers, ‘Just wait until you see my Yelp review!’. She left the bread on the counter and rode off on
her broom.”
“Hmm, I’m surprised she didn’t try to have Molly arrested for it,” Connal snorts and Gemma makes a gurgling sound that her
parents seem to think is a laugh.
Just then, I have an idea and open my phone, first searching for the store in question before I continue.
“So anyway, Royce, hello! This is the part you owe me for,” Charlie says, clicking her tongue to make sure she has my
attention. “After Michaels left, we were talking some more and I have convinced her to allow you back into the bakery. The
condition being that you aren’t allowed to hit on her or ask her out. Ever again.”
“Huh,” I grunt, not really paying attention as I concentrate on the app in front of me.
“What do mean, huh? What are you doing?” she asks, but I wait until I finish and look up, smiling at them.
“I just ordered lunch to be delivered to the yoga lady,” I tell them, very proud of myself.
The two of them exchange a glance, and while Charlie looks confused, Connal is grinning ear to ear. He does have better
insight to the inner workings of my mind, after all.
“A half dozen sliders, with bacon and cheese,” comes my reply to the question Charlie has yet to ask. “I over-tipped the driver
in advance.”
She laughs, throwing her head back, and this time, Gemma legitimately laughs with her mom. “That’s so evil.”
“Fucking twisted, man,” Connal agrees, fist bumping me.
“But really, you can go back to Molly’s on your own now,” Charlie says, turning me back to the original topic.
“No, I can’t. ‘Cause I’m sure as hell gonna hit on her, and I’m sure as fuck gonna ask her out, whenever I do see her. You tell
her that.” With that bit of news, I turn to rummage through the baked goods she got for me, and getting some baggies from a
drawer, I sort out the items I won’t get to for a day or so.
Connal and Charlie are still staring at me when I finish up and head back to the bay to figure out which vehicle is up next.
 Chapter 3

Molly
“Good morning, Sheriff Michaels!” I call out, the bell above the door alerted me that someone entered and I caught sight of his
black Stetson out of the corner of my eye as I removed a sheet of cookies from the oven. “I’ll be right there.”
“Take your time,” he says, taking his hat off with one hand, while he swipes his other hand through his dark hair. From another
quick glance at his face, I can tell he looks uncomfortable.
Getting the cookies sorted, I wash my hands and walk up to the counter. “What can I get you today?”
“Would it be possible to close up for a couple of minutes, so we could talk?” The timber of his voice is so filled with concern
that my stomach clenches up and I wonder if someone died.
Without a word, I flip the sign on my door and motion to one of the small tables. Michaels carefully lowers his large frame
onto one of the chairs, and it suddenly occurs to me how impractical the seating is, but that’s a problem for another day.
“Gwen Lachman called me to her studio yesterday as she was trying to figure out what type of complaint she can file against
you,” he tells me, and I can’t believe she’s so upset over less than ten dollars’ worth of bread.
“Over the gluten-free, vegan bread thing?” I ask him, cocking my head to the side.
“No, about an order of bacon cheeseburgers that she believes you sent her. She’s convinced they’re a threat of some sort,” he
tells me, putting his hands, palms facing up on the small bistro table. I can’t make heads or tails out of what he’s talking about,
so I just stare at him.
Finally, he lets out a sigh of relief. “Thank God. You didn’t send them.”
“Sheriff, I…”
Just then, his radio squawks and I hear Jessa’s voice saying his name. He holds his finger up, as he reaches for it.
“This is Michaels. Go.”
“Sheriff, Gwen Lachman just called 911 again. Someone delivered breakfast sandwiches, double meat, to her yoga class.”
Jessa is my closest friend in town and there’s no disguising the mirth in her voice. I start to laugh, then slap my hand over my
mouth before holding both of my hands up in the air to pantomime my innocence.
“I swear, I didn’t, Sheriff. It’s just that Jessa’s tone of voice made me laugh,” I tell him, sounding like a child, as I try not to
burst out in laughter.
“You can put your hands down,” he says with an irritated shake of his head. Even a blind person could tell that he’s holding
back his own smile as he clicks his mic on. “Jessa, hold a minute.”
“And you absolutely did not send her food at any time, correct?” he asks me, his dark gaze holding my own.
“I promise, I didn’t. Honestly, I’m just trying to pay my bills and build my business. Yesterday we had a little disagreement
about a specially requested item that she had placed via my website. I printed the order for my records after she got upset, but I
have a very clear ‘no refund’ policy for special requests due to my time and ingredients. Gwen’s request did not mention a
vegan requirement, so I made it with eggs. I can take a bad review or two, but if I cave to one person, then I’ll have to make
exceptions for others, and I can’t afford to do that.”
“Understood. Did you happen to vent or complain about her to anyone?”
“No, sir, I didn’t. I closed up at three, cleaned, and did my prep work for today. Then, I heated up a frozen pizza and crashed,”
I tell him my routine for most days, trying not to sound pathetic. “You and Charlie were here when it happened, but I didn’t
speak to anyone about it.”
“Based on what you’ve said, spending that kind of money on deliveries isn’t within your budget.” He lifts his eyebrow in my
direction as he gives me a silent hint of what to say if I’m questioned again. “I’m not going to spend any of my department’s
time trying to track down the records from the food app, but if you think of anything else, let me know.”
With that he places his customary order with me, and radio’s back to Jessa, asking her to send Deputy Smith over to the yoga
studio.
I feel a little bad about reminding him that Charlie witnessed the entire scene yesterday, but being his sister-in-law, I’m sure he
knows that she has way too much on her plate to screw around sending meat to a vegan.
*
Sunday morning, I actually sleep until nearly eight and it feels heavenly after the day before. The weather has finally started to
turn and yesterday’s rush made it worthwhile for me to stay open later than normal. If the number of people who are out
walking around the town square is any indication of what summer weekends are like in Rowansville, I will be changing my day
off yet again.
Since I started closing the bakery on Sundays, I’ve had a weekly get-together with Jessa and whoever else is available, but
with Shade being held on a murder charge, she has, understandably, cancelled having us over to her aunt’s house.
I was a bit nervous when Bree offered to host it this week, what with my last conversation with her husband. Pull your big girl
pants on, I tell myself, getting up to prepare something to bring with me.
Starting with a batch of red velvet cupcakes, I quickly decide to make brownies as well; figuring Flint and that boy they’re
helping out, into the equation. I shoot out a group text to see if anyone needs a ride before I jump in the shower.
My prayers are answered when I get out and see a message from Tabby who offers to pick us up since she’s on the opposite
side of town from Bree anyway. I hope that I wasn’t completely transparent. I offered to drive, but since it’s the one day a week
I get to drink with my girlfriends, I really didn’t want to.
Getting to Bree’s house, we’re joyfully greeted by her dog and only see a hint of the teenager that they’re fostering—as he
hightails it down a hallway when we’re all still in the foyer. I let out a sigh of relief when Bree tells Tabby, Charlie, Riley, and
me that Flint will be out for a while.
We dig into Bree’s buffalo chicken dip, and can’t help but to tease Tabby who decides to start with a cupcake. Our camaraderie
helps me shrug off the long hours I work and eases my longing for my family.
“Molly?” Bree calls, and I can tell it wasn’t the first time she said my name. “Welcome back. I was asking where your family
is from.”
“Oh, well, my mom was from a small town in Indiana, and I don’t know about my dad,” I answer her, continuing when she
raises her eyebrows in question. “My mom left home for a few years after she turned nineteen, and she came back with me.
Grandma once told me that Mom had decided to put me up for adoption, but at the end of her pregnancy, she just couldn’t do it.
When she was certain she was keeping me, she called her mom and asked if she would be welcome back, with me, of course.”
“It sounds like you’ve lost her,” Bree says, reaching over to gently squeeze my arm. “I’m sorry, honey.”
“Mom passed when I was seven, which was before I really knew to ask questions about my father,” I tell them, noticing that
everyone is listening to the story that I had only shared with Jessa before. “I’ve submitted my spit to a couple of those DNA
databases, with no luck. I wouldn’t say I’m actively searching for him, but Rowansville was along a trail of breadcrumbs Mom
left, and when I got here—I just really liked it.”
“I don’t know if you know this,” Bree says, sliding a small piece of flatbread down to Ragnar. “A couple of years ago, after I
was widowed, I was just kind of aimlessly traveling around the country, not really sure of where I wanted to live, and I
happened upon Rowansville. It immediately felt like I had come home. The community and it is gorgeous—with the lakes and
the mountains, isn’t it?”
I readily nod in agreement; my throat tightens in response to her words, and I feel a deeper connection to her after hearing her
describe how I felt about Rowansville when I first arrived.
“Now, Molly, I’m curious what you meant about breadcrumbs your mother left? You tell me if I’m asking too many questions!”
Bree says, reaching over for the bottle of sparkling wine and refilling our glasses while Tabby passes the orange juice after
her.
“Every couple of months, Mom would send postcards home and I’m pretty sure she was either living around here or in Jackson
Hole when I was conceived. There’s no possible way I could have afforded to start my bakery there, so I landed here.”
“How crazy is it that you could have already met your dad,” Charlie says in a near whisper and I’m suddenly reminded of my
Hardy Boys and Nancy Drew books. “She didn’t have any pictures or anything? Do you look much like your mom?”
“A bit, I have darker hair than she did, but so does most of my family,” I respond, admittedly not the best judge of how much I
look like my mom. “After my grandma passed away, I went to live with my uncle. He treated me as more of a babysitter for his
daughter, Trinity, than his niece. He was mom’s only sibling and his wife and Grandma died in a train accident.”
I snag a brownie from the table in front of me before I continue.
“About the time that I finished the culinary program I was taking, he told me that his girlfriend was going to move in with her
daughter. My presence suddenly became detrimental to them bonding as a family.”
“Asshat,” Riley interjects and everyone nods.
“Then, we finally sold Grandma’s house and I found my mom’s postcards in a box of things that he was throwing away.” I stop,
adding more sparkling wine to my glass, and decide to skip the orange juice this time around. With a signal from Bree, I top off
her glass also. “From there it came down to using the dates from postmarks to my mom’s path. Granted she was gone for four
years, I just didn’t know where to go and I hoped some place would call to me along the way.”
“Ugh. How are things with Trinity and his girlfriend?” Charlie asks, having heard me talk about that situation a bit.
“Awful. Now when Trinity calls me she’s apologizing for all the years I looked after her. She’s worried that I actually resent
her, because now she’s forced to babysit her soon-to-be stepsister. Trin is much more of a social butterfly than I was in high
school, and unpaid babysitting means less time for parties and other activities,” I explain to them. “The difference being that I
was happy to have an excuse not to do stuff like that.”
“I was the same way in high school,” Bree confides in us. “Now college was another story.”
“Well, the good news is that Grandma left her business to my uncle, because he helped her build it, but she had left her savings
and house to Trinity and me. It’s her senior year, and she said she’s not looking at any schools closer than a thousand miles
away.”
“Now, why do I have a feeling she’ll end up here?” Riley asks, getting a laugh out of everyone.
“I hope so. There are some good schools within an easy distance. Whatever is best for her would make me happy.” I smile at
the thought of Trinity coming out this way, while I vow to keep her away from the Northern Grizzlies parties. “Anyway, what’s
this ride thing I’ve heard about? A poker run, or something? Betsy placed a catering order with me and invited me to the after
party.”
“Oh! Are you coming?” Charlie asks me, looking surprised.
“No, it sounds fun, but I don’t want things to be weird with…” I say, shrugging instead of naming the man they all know I avoid
like the plague.
“Weird with who?” Royce asks. He’s suddenly standing in the entranceway with Flint right behind him.
“Grab the kid and get going,” Flint tells him, giving him a nudge just as Joe makes an appearance.
“Ma, Royce said he’d help me with my bike. We’ll just be at the garage, alright?” Joe says, looking at Bree before his eyes
land on the brownies and cupcakes. “Oh, can I have some?”
“You have finals this week,” Bree responds with a nod, her eyes looking a little misty. “Royce, you get him back by eight.
Sober.”
Joe grabs some dessert before Royce loudly clears his throat to get the kid’s attention, then he points back and forth between
the food and himself.
“Nine. Love ya,” Joe quickly kisses her cheek before running past Royce with his hands full of the baked goods.
When I finally make eye contact with Royce, he gives me a big wink and turns to follow the boy out.
“Sorry for the interruption, ladies,” Flint says, reaching for a cupcake before kissing Bree on the forehead and heading down
the hallway that I assume leads to the bedrooms.
“Well, that was a beautiful, and awkward, interruption,” Charlie says with a sappy grin on her face. “When did he start calling
you Ma?”
“Probably when he realized it would help him get his way,” Riley answers with her best guess, before squeezing Bree’s
shoulder to lighten her words.
“You aren’t wrong, but he is a good kid.” Bree sighs, before turning her gaze back to me.
My face turned bright red the moment Royce appeared, and I hoped everyone would drop it. That hope was dashed the moment
I saw the look on Bree’s face.
She gets up to retrieve another bottle of sparkling wine from the kitchen before turning back to me. “Okay, Molly, dish! What,
exactly, happened between you two?”
“Nothing,” I tell her, and Riley lets out a giggle at the doubtful looks on the others’ faces. “We kissed at Charlie’s house. That’s
it. Him, being the town whore, his buddies all assumed we, you know…”
“Bumped uglies?” Charlie pipes in.
“Boinked?” Riley contributes.
Tabby has closed her eyes and scrunched up her face in an attempt to keep her mouth shut. “Laid down and danced.” She didn’t
take long to join in.
Bree and I share a look, but I notice the corners of her mouth twitching.
“Connal doesn’t think that Royce actually knew about the bet,” Charlie repeats what she had previously told me.
Bree lets out a frustrated sigh and rolls her eyes. “Honestly, if Royce had been involved in the bet, it would have slipped out by
now. He’s much more likely to say he did something, than to hide shit. I wasn’t there, but that’s my two cents, if you’re
interested.”
 Chapter 4
Royce
After another training session with Shade, it was easy to convince him to swing by the bakery before I had to drop him off at
Jessa’s aunt’s house. Ellie takes care of Danny and as Roy’s living with her nowadays, I use that as an excuse to tag along with
Shade.
From the look he gives me, he knows damn well that I’m just hoping to get more information about Molly. Since he’s engaged
in his own battle to get Jessa to move in with him, he thankfully doesn’t give me shit over it.
Hanging back as we enter, I barely listen to Ellie and Shade as they catch up. I’m trying to figure out my next course of action
with Molly, and thinking about the snippet of conversation between her and her friends the other day, it’s twice now that I’ve
heard Molly mention her cousin, so I file that information away for later consideration.
I was optimistic when I overheard her ask about the poker run. Unfortunately, my presence is the biggest obstacle to her
attending. I’ll have to figure out who I can enlist to make sure she comes.
“How’s life as a grandpa?” I greet Roy when I notice him coming down the stairs holding Shade’s son.
Roy was legendary back in his day, but much like Flint, he’s passed the torch to us younger guys. Along with endless amounts
of advice.
As far as I know, he never had any kids of his own, even though he had pretty much raised his nephew, Vice.
It was after Vice died, that he took up with Jessa’s aunt and considering that Ellie worked at the police station for most of her
life, she was hesitant to wear the mantle of Ol’ Lady. Regardless, Jessa and Danny fall under the umbrella of who he considers
his family. If all goes well, Shade will be part of that circle soon too.
“Diapers are not for the weak of heart,” Roy says, swinging the boy in Shade’s direction. Danny shrieks with laughter as his
dad grabs his waist, continuing the baby’s arch through the air, and it’s easy to see this is a well-practiced maneuver.
The once rocky relationship between the two men has changed and I feel a lump in my throat, never having had my own father
figure.
“I heard young Joe wants to go on the next run with you,” he says, looking at me when he switches to club business. I can’t help
the look I give Ellie, who ignores me as she wanders off toward her kitchen.
“Flint said he’d head that off,” Shade replies when I hesitate. It doesn’t feel right talking about something Ellie can’t take part
in, in her own home. “Not that he’ll be happy until he does, but the fact that he’s not patched…”
“They want to adopt him,” Roy interjects and that gets my attention.
“Who?” I ask, confused since Joe Madda is probably about seventeen.
“Bree and Flint are going to ask the kid if they can adopt him. Once he’s eighteen, they don’t have to look for permission from
any biological relative and Bree’s been mothering him since she laid eyes on him, anyway,” Roy explains. “I think not having a
child of her own, well, they want him to know he’ll always have a place to land.”
“Wow,” I say for lack of anything else. “Doesn’t Flint have kids with his ex?”
“They’re all grown, with kids of their own. That’s where he was last week, he wanted to sit them down and lay it out, to make
sure they didn’t have any objections.”
I just nod my head, wondering what the kid will decide. While Flint originally had him moved into the clubhouse, Bree put her
foot down the morning after the first party that took place with him hanging around. I had felt more dead than alive as I woke up
on the pool table with a naked woman next to me, and immediately felt a chill wash over my body; like I was in grave danger.
Bree isn’t one to lose her shit, but that day her neck was bright red and the look on her face froze me in my tracks. I shifted my
eyes around the room to notice I wasn’t the only one present who looked like they were watching the countdown timer on a
bomb.
Madda’s head had been shaven the night before, at least the part that was reachable from where it had fallen when he had
passed out. He was holding it upright with both hands, like it was no longer attached to his neck, he had vomit on his clothes,
and the hair that was left made him look like some demented clown.
I remember almost cracking a smile when that thought crossed my mind, but a hiss caught my attention and I shifted my gaze to
Russian, who gave me the smallest shake of his head.
Bree’s voice was, thankfully low, but strained, as she kept her gaze on Flint and told him that Joe was coming to live with
them. There was no discussion, not in the middle of the clubhouse, nor that I ever heard rumors of afterward.
She shifted her gaze from her Old Man to each set of conscious eyes in the room. I don’t know what the others felt because I
never manned up enough to ask any of them, but when Bree looked at me, I knew that if I ever crossed her again, or someone
she considered hers, they’d never find my body.
That was the day I fell in love with Bree. Not her per say, but the qualities I saw in her, and topping that list was devotion to
those she cared about.
And that memory makes it all click into place. Both my mom and Molly have that same trait.
*
Approaching the town square, I smile to myself when I turn a corner to see a woman wildly gesturing as she yells into her cell
phone. I keep going after pausing to make sure that the bench I had sponsored for the next six months had been completed to my
specifications.
Just down the block, I nod my head as I see Michaels leaving the police station, looking especially frustrated as he walks in the
direction I came from—toward the screaming lady, and I feel particularly pleased with myself, so I decide to chance a stop at
the bakery.
“Good…” Molly starts to call out a cheerful greeting until her eyes land on my face, ending her sentence with a mumbled,
“Riddance.”
“It’s still morning, chicklet,” I observe, looking at my watch as I pretend to misunderstand her. Not wanting to push my luck,
I’m already pointing at what I want. “I was hoping for my coffee and one of those, if that’s alright?”
She loudly exhales as she narrows her eyes, but turns to start my coffee before placing a ham and gruyere stuffed croissant in an
oven. Without a word, she rings up my order and looks at me.
I just smile at her, waiting for her to tell me the total even though it’s on the screen right in front of me. A moment slowly ticks
away before she turns to finish my coffee and retrieve my pastry.
“How much will that be?” I ask, not breaking eye contact with her, even when she points at the screen. “I was wondering if you
wanted to go out to dinner one night this week?”
“Please stop asking me out, Royce,” she replies after a moment. “And it’s seven dollars.”
I put a ten down, ignoring the three dollars she places on the counter, before I make her a deal. “Let me take you on a date. One
time, and I’ll stop asking.”
“Yes, I understand you’re good at that,” she responds, her eyes suddenly looking sad before her mask snaps back into place.
“That was a low blow, sugar snap,” I say, leaning unnecessarily close to her as I pick up my items, and deciding I don’t have
much to lose at this point, I head over to the small table in the corner. “And not what I meant.”
It’s the first time I’ve eaten in, so I slowly take in the room, noticing a small, framed picture that hangs near the door and seems
to be the only personal item in here. I’m about to stand up to get a closer look at it when I notice Michaels walking
determinedly across the square.
I frown, wondering why everyone calls it a square when it’s more of a rectangle, but I tense up when I see the pissed off look
on his face.
Entering the shop, he barely spares me a glance and waves off Molly’s attempt at a greeting.
“Can you close your shop and come with me for a moment?” Although it comes out as a question, it isn’t. As demonstrated by
him immediately reopening the door and holding it for her. I don’t miss the look he gives me either.
Molly’s face pales and she looks at me.
“I’ll keep watch and won’t touch a thing,” I promise her.
“Actually, I have cakes in the oven,” she says, looking between us. “Will this take long?”
“I can help.” I eagerly interject myself into the situation, trying to tap down on my excitement at possibly being useful to her.
She does not look happy, but since Michaels doesn’t look like he’s willing to budge, Molly concedes and shows me exactly
what she wants me to do if the timer should go off before she returns.
What she doesn’t know is that I’m actually good in the kitchen. Mom worked her butt off, which meant she was usually
exhausted when she got home. My sister would keep me out of trouble by having me help her prepare all of our meals.
It’s not until I see her follow Michaels back toward the yoga studio, that I start to feel a knot in the pit of my stomach. The
sheriff removes his hat as he speaks to the two women, and I doubt he realizes that he’s close to destroying the shape of it,
twisting the rim in his hands like he is.
The woman I’ve been laying siege to these past few weeks looks fit to kill and, unfortunately, Molly is her target.
Maybe renting out the bench facing the yoga studio wasn’t the best idea. I had really been on a roll. I still send food from time
to time, but then I got creative and signed her up for the sausage and cheese of the month club.
Last week, when I saw that the town was looking for advertisers for the park benches to help offset their cost, I was instantly
inspired. I set up a fake email address to inquire about it, a little surprised there were zero questions asked.
I sent in a money order for the fee, emailed the art I wanted and the location. From my quick glance, I was really pleased with
the way the seat was painted to look like bacon and the front of it read: Bacon Makes Everything Better.
But now that I see Molly getting yelled at for it, I’m starting to rethink my strategy of tormenting her nemesis. The timer rings
and I turn to handle the cakes, moving as slowly as possible so I don’t mess anything up.
When I hear the bell attached to the door jingle, I flinch, and a cake pan nearly slides off the rack. I make sure it’s safe before I
look over my shoulder to see Flint standing there in the doorway. His arms are folded across his chest and his expression is
nearly a mirror image of the one Michaels was wearing.
“Imagine my surprise when I rode by and saw you. In. Here.” He waves his hand at me in continuation of his sentence. “What
the fuck are you doing? Because I’d be pretty surprised to find out she hired you.”
“Um. Michaels needed Molly for something, but she didn’t want the cakes to burn so I was her only option,” I tell him,
carefully putting the last one down on the cooling rack and removing the mitts she had laid out for me. “Oh, it looks like she’s
coming back if you want anything.”
“Any idea what’s going on between Molly and California?” he asks me, narrowing his eyes and obviously referring to the other
woman by her state of origin.
“Michaels didn’t say, but he seemed annoyed.” My answer sounds ridiculous as soon as it’s out of my mouth—of course,
Michaels is frustrated, what with dealing with this on top of Shade’s arrest.
I don’t know what to make from near-growl that escapes him, so I try to pry a little. “Is that one of your buildings? Where she
has her studio, I mean?”
“No, it’s one of Eileen’s,” he responds, the corner of his mouth twitching. Eileen Riley is Flint’s main competitor when it
comes to owning properties around town. “The woman looked at a couple of my empty spots and was a pain in the ass, so I
stopped taking her calls.”
Flint stands aside to allow Molly to enter, and I wait to the side as she inspects the cakes she left in my charge.
“Thank you,” she says, a soft smile on her face as she seems satisfied with the care I took. “Flint, is there anything you’d like
today?”
He places his order, before frowning in my direction. I’m not ready to head out yet, so I sit down to finish my lukewarm coffee.
“What is going on with that Lachman woman?” he asks Molly.
She waves her hand in the air, in an attempt to blow off the question and rings up the loaves of bread he had requested. Taking
his money, I don’t miss the envelope that she slides him along with his change.
I’ve seen enough of those to know she just gave him a good amount of cash. Considering neither of them acknowledge it, I file
that information away for later.
“What is going on with that Lachman woman?” Flint repeats his question in a tone that demands compliance.
“She feels that someone is—harassing her and has decided it’s me because she left a negative review for the bakery online.”
“You don’t seem like a petty person to me,” Flint says, looking at her in such a way to get her to continue telling the story.
“It’s just frustrating because she keeps calling the police every time something happens, and I think she’s badmouthing me to the
people in her class,” Molly says with a frown that causes a crease between her eyebrows. “We both offer discounts to people
who are staying at the resorts, to help drive business. People used to stream across the square after her class, now they don’t. I
mean, my local business is strong at least, so I can’t complain.”
The knot in my stomach that first made itself known when Michaels came to get Molly, feels like it has enlarged and hardened,
so I stand and mumble my goodbyes.
Once outside, I toss a look over my shoulder to see Molly wringing her hands and her lips moving. It’s the look that Flint is
giving me that encourages me to move faster.
 Chapter 5
Molly
Even before the bell above the door rings, I know my brow is furrowed. While I never mind an unexpected visit from Jessa,
especially with Danny; it’s the fact that Royce is with her that has me wondering what is going on.
I know Shade’s hearing is today, but it seems a little early for it to have wrapped up.
“Molly.” Royce smiles at me in greeting as he pushes the door open, allowing Jessa to proceed him, as her hands are full with
the baby carrier.
I open my mouth to greet my friend when the world explodes.
Literally.
I’m certain I lost a few minutes, but when my surroundings start to come into focus again, my head is throbbing and there’s a
ringing in my ears that’s gradually being drowned out by a baby crying.
A baby. Danny, I think as the fog in my brain slowly starts to clear.
Danny, Jessa, and Royce! I look back at my ovens, trying to comprehend what could have exploded, but seeing that they’re
intact encourages me to gradually start to move. From the pain in my tailbone, I know exactly where I landed.
Rolling over onto my knees, I slowly move toward the end of the counter. Past where I am is a sea of glass, and it takes me
another moment to pull myself up. From my second step on, I’m crunching the glass that’s all over the front of my bakery.
Today, the shattered window doesn’t matter, I need to get to Danny.
My heart rate goes into overdrive as I see Jessa trying to squirm out from under Royce. Dear God, I don’t even think he’s
conscious yet, and though it feels like my feet are weighted down, I keep telling myself that Danny is the priority right now.
“Fuck.” Royce’s groan is the first word that I’m capable of making out after the blast and it brings with it a complete sense of
calm. All I can think is that he’s alive.
I reach down to feel along Danny’s body for any injuries. And debate whether or not to pick him up until he starts waving his
arms and legs in my direction. Maybe my thinking isn’t medically sound, but all I see in front of me is a baby that needs
comforting. Releasing his straps, I carefully lift him, cradling his precious body against my chest.
Christ, that carrier was worth its weight in gold. “I think he’s alright, Jessa,” I say, just as a man in a Northern Grizzlies cut
steps through in the blown-out window.
“Shit, your car blew up, Jessa,” he announces, looking between us. “Everyone’s coming this way. I couldn’t reach Shade, but
the sheriff will hear about it.”
“You would have still been in it if you’d gone straight to your aunt’s,” Royce moans out, now face down on the floor since
Jessa was able to get out from under him. “How’s the baby?”
“He seems fine, just scared,” I answer, watching him trying to roll to his side. “Royce, stop trying to get up. Jessa, are you
alright?”
Jessa’s shaking as she stands up, and I take a step toward her before she holds her hand up to stop me.
“I’m covered in glass,” she says, as the other man helps her stay steady on her feet. She looks at him in confusion. “Who are
you?”
“I’m Tanker. We haven’t met. You sure you’re ok?”
Suddenly, all I can hear are sirens as a fire truck and an ambulance pull up outside.
“Royce?” Jessa looks down at him as she reaches a finger out to rub her son’s back, obviously needing to touch him in this
moment.
“Everything hurts,” he groans again as the paramedics rush in.
“Jessa, head back there.” I motion her to the kitchen. “Rinse your hair off in the sink, because I know you’re dying to get this
one in your arms.”
“He’s going to be alright, isn’t he, Molly?” Royce asks for the third time, and I realize he’s probably in shock. The medics get
him stabilized and on a gurney, so I shift, allowing him to see my face before they cart him away.
“You saved them. Granted my window’s gone again, but I’ll let it slide this time.”
He starts to laugh, but that quickly turns into another groan. “Fuck, that hurts.”
I instantly feel guilty at letting my sarcasm get the best of me, so I reach a hand over to touch him before remembering the state
he’s in. The only place that I don’t see a cut is between his jaw and his ear, so I draw my finger along the uninjured spot and
smile. “I’ll fix you a proper breakfast next week, alright?”
As soon as they wheel him out, Flint is entering with his eyes fixed on Jessa.
“Is the boy alright?” he asks me, barely sparing us a glance.
“I think so,” I answer, so he keeps on moving back to Jessa.
Shade is the next person coming through the doorway, and he bellows Jessa’s name. Without thinking, I step into his path and
hand Danny off to him. Besides the fact that my entire body hurts, I think that the feel of his child will help him focus and stay
calm.
“Are you alright?” Sheriff Michaels’s calm voice comes from beside me.
“I need to sit. I don’t know.” My answer is factual as I try to assess my needs for the first time.
“Smith!” he calls out. “Help Molly to the bench outside, then get her to the hospital.”
“No,” I say, but my voice is noticeably weaker than it was a moment ago.
“Yes,” he answers in a commanding tone. “Smith, now! Take her report and get her to the hospital yourself if there isn’t another
ambulance in the next ten minutes.”
That must have been when my adrenaline rush wore off, because it was like that fog that had lifted earlier descended again and
I only have bare recollections of anything else until I wake up in a hospital bed later that evening.
“How are you feeling?” Bree’s voice is soft but clear and I finally spot her, sitting in a chair near the window.
“Am I alright?” I ask, although I realize that question makes no sense as soon as the words fall from my lips.
“How about some water?” she asks me next, putting her book to the side as she crosses to open a bottle for me.
“I hope you don’t mind, but I asked Tabby to check your chart since no one would tell me your condition and I figured someone
should know since you don’t have family nearby.” She pauses and I nod, indeed happy that she was looking out for me. “She let
me know that you would be fine and she arranged for this bed for the day, since we weren’t sure about your insurance status.
Well, that’s the good news, the bad news is the bakery. Besides the obvious, the windows upstairs also blew out in the
explosion.”
“Oh, no! What about Jessa, Danny, and Royce?” My mind reels as it catches up with today’s events.
“Jessa and Danny are going to be just fine. Royce will be held overnight, then Roy will keep an eye out for him at the
clubhouse. Besides a concussion, one of his wrists broke when he was thrown, and of course, he’s a mess of cuts,” she quickly
fills me in. “I talked to Flint, and we’d like you to come stay with us, until a building inspector signs off on the structure and my
husband can get the windows replaced.”
“I don’t know, my things and the ovens…” My voice drops off when I think about paying off my monthly loan on all the
equipment I had purchased. Unfortunately, it might be time to dip into my inheritance until I’m up and running again.
“Molly, don’t worry about that now,” Bree tells me as she sits on the foot of my bed and squeezes my leg with a grin. “You’ll
be sharing a bathroom with Joe, but I’ve almost civilized him. He puts the toilet seat down about eighty percent of the time
now!”
“Flint’s not still angry at me?” I ask, barely able to make eye contact with her but considering how fast her eyebrows shoot up,
I can see she has no idea what I’m talking about. “He, um, we butted heads a while back.”
“He didn’t mention anything, and trust me, he would have told me if you weren’t welcome,” she says, shrugging her shoulders.
I can see the curiosity in her eyes, but she stops herself from asking me anything else.
“That’s settled then. I’ll go get ask the nurse about releasing you and we’ll head home.” Bree turns on her heel, heading off on
her mission before I can point out that I didn’t actually agree to stay with them.
Sitting up, I consider my other options and realize that there’s just one: the fancy resorts on the edge of town. There had been a
motel, but after a fire leveled it, the rebuilding process has dragged on.
When I first got here, I stayed at a bed & breakfast. The couple who owned it was more than a little odd, and the husband kept
trying to rub my shoulders whenever his wife left the room. Needless to say, I got out of there as soon as I could.
Jessa and her aunt, obviously have too much on their plate right now, so there’s no chance of staying with them.
“Miss Kent?” There’s a nurse entering the room and as I had just stood up, my head snaps in her direction and I try not to look
guilty. “Mrs. Kelly went down to the giftshop to buy some sweats for you to change into, while I review your marching orders
with you.”
“Oh, yes, thank you. She said that Tabby, um, Dr. Forsythe said I checked out alright?”
“Dr. Cuasay was on duty in the ER when you came in, but yes, it looks like you got off with a bruised bum,” the older lady says
with a soft smile. “Your clothes are in that bag right there, but they’re a mess. And we understand you’ll be staying with
friends?”
“Yes. I was wondering if you could tell me how the man that was injured is doing?” I hesitate to ask, then narrow my eyes
when I see her blush.
“He’s a lively one, isn’t he?” She practically giggles despite her age. “He asked about you also, but I’m not allowed to share
information on my patients.”
I open my mouth to let her know that I understand and practically giggle when I see her tilt her head to the left two times.
Looking over her shoulder, it takes me a moment to piece her silent message together. “Our number is on this sheet, you call us
if any of the listed issues pop up, you hear me?”
With those words, she takes her leave and I quickly follow her to the door, peeking both ways until I dart into the room that she
indicated. The curtain around the bed is drawn and I take a deep breath before reaching behind me to hold my hospital gown
closed.
“Royce? Is that you?” I ask in a tone just above a whisper.
“That you, sugar?” His voice is thick from whatever they gave him, but I obviously have the right room.
With that I duck behind the curtain and gasp when I see his back. Royce is laying on his stomach, his face pointed in my
direction, but his sheet is down near his waist and while his arms have an assortment of bandages on them, his back looks like
a giant bruise.
“Oh, Royce…”
“It looks worse than it is,” he tells me. “You okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. I just wanted to check on you. Bree told me that Jessa and Danny are safe. That’s because of you, you know,” I
tell him, hoping he knows that.
He grunts, looking pleased with my words, even if his eyes do look a little glassy. I can’t imagine the pain he’ll be in when the
drugs wear off. “I was just thinking about you.”
“Oh, were you?”
“Uh-huh. You have really bad luck with that shop window, you know?” he replies with a little grin and I can’t help but to reach
over to push his hair off of his face. “Plus, I’m going to need some help in the next couple of weeks. ‘Cause of my wrist. I was
picturing you in a nurse’s outfit. But not the scrubs. The Halloween kind.”
I’m already shaking my head at him, wondering how much of this conversation he’s going to remember, when he lifts his head
up a little. “Are you naked under there?”
“Molly?” Bree’s voice carries from the hall, and I’m sure she’ll figure out where I am in the next minute or so.
“I still think you’re a perverted man-whore, but seeing as how you saved my friend, when they release you, I’ll be by with a
basket of your favorites,” I promise him.
“Thank you, Mols,” he slurs out the words as his eyelids fall to half-mast. “Don’t forget the outfit.”
“Stop talking, Royce,” I whisper good-naturedly as I turn to meet Bree in the hallway.
“You are naked.” Are the last words I hear from him before Bree spots me and hands me a bag of clothes.
 Chapter 6
Flint – Mid-summer
“There he is,” I say to Roy with a big smile across my face. We’d been waiting on Mack to make it here and I was starting to
get worried.
I’m more than a little surprised to see him with a box from Molly’s Bakery, but her sweets are always welcome around here.
“Charlie keeps talking about this bakery,” Mack tells us, dropping the box on the table before reaching his hand out to grasp
mine. “Thought I’d stop and check it out.”
“Good to see you,” Roy cracks as he focuses on the box he’s pulling toward him as he licks his lips, barely cutting his eyes up
to Mack. “Oh, you too.”
“Ellie’s trying to get him to cut back on his sugar intake. Guess she wants to keep him around for some reason.” I roll my eyes
at Roy’s nonsense and motion to the bartender for more beer.
“I know we’re all getting old, but I saw this at the bakery and I recognized this woman,” Mack says, pulling a framed picture
out of the pocket on the inside of his cut. “The one holding the little girl.”
“You stole it? Why didn’t you just ask Molly?” I question him, reaching into my pocket for my glasses and flipping Mack off
when I see the look he gives me. “We’re the same fucking age, asshole. Don’t tell me you have perfect vision.”
“She was busy with other people. Just look at it, then guess why I didn’t ask her,” Mack replies as he sits down.
There’s a pretty, blond woman in the middle of the frame, with an older woman—obviously her mother—just behind her.
They’re both smiling at the laughing toddler with brown hair and large, expressive eyes, who’s clapping in delight.
“Do I want to know why you have Molly’s picture?” Bree asks, peering over my shoulder when she approaches our table.
“Mack stole it.” Roy immediately throws our old friend under the bus while selecting another cookie with the utmost care.
“Bree, you ready to run away with me yet?” Mack asks my wife and I let out a good-natured growl.
I look at the picture again, then shrug, passing it over to Roy.
“Don’t mess that up,” Bree says, pointing at the picture. “Her mom wrote a note on the back of it before she died, so it’s
important to her.”
“I’ll guard it with my life,” Mack promises her, holding his hand over his heart.
After chatting with him for a moment or so, Bree kisses my forehead and moves on to talk to Betsy. My eyes following her,
she’s been uneasy since I made the trip to help tie up Shade’s loose ends. Watchful, I guess; probably worried about anyone
else coming after us. Every day I wonder, how I got lucky enough to cross paths with Bree.
“Is the baker another of Bree’s strays?” Mack asks and I let out a bark of laughter at his phrasing.
“Yes, she definitely is,” I readily agree, shaking my head at the menagerie of people my wife has collected since we’ve met. Of
course, I guess I’m also on that list.
“She used to party here, back in our day.” Roy keeps his voice low as he leans forward, placing the picture back on the table
and tapping the glass over the woman’s face as he delivers that verdict. “I can’t remember her name, but she was up for
anything.”
“Right? That’s what sprung to my mind, also,” Mack says, nodding in agreement, a wry grin spreading across his face.
“It was a couple years after your dad was killed,” Roy continues, wiping some crumbs off of the stubble on his chin. “You
were just starting to get your shit back together and working out visitation with your ex.”
Mack flips the frame over and opens the back, stretching his arm out as he tries to read whatever’s on the picture. I smirk when
I hand him my reading glasses.
“Asshole,” he grumbles, accepting them to make out the words. “’Never be afraid to go where the wild things are…’”
“Max,” I say, suddenly remembering something tangent about the woman. “She went by Max and she had tattoos from Where
the Wild Things Are.”
“It’s signed, Momma. But, yes, that was her name,” Mack finishes. “She came back from Sturgis with someone and left before
the winter hit. That was the winter I lost my leg, nearly twenty-two years ago now.”
All three of our eyes snap up from the photo at the same time, each studying the other’s face.
“Hey, any chance you know how old the girl is?” Mack asks a very relevant question before slamming his beer back.
“Christ,” Roy groans, pinching the bridge of his nose. “That’s all I need at my age, finding out I have a kid.”
“Yeah, maybe Ellie would let you eat more sugar if you did,” I crack, but the thought is bothering me also.
I wave for more beer, and this time it’s Royce who delivers it, precariously balancing it on the brace he’s still wearing on his
arm. Connal’s behind him with a second pitcher and additional glasses, I hate sitting on the inside, so I stand to let them slide in
on my bench. Unobtrusively handing off the picture to Mack for keeping.
Royce being the low man on the pole goes in first, and I’m hoping he has some of the information we want. Mack shoots the
shit with them a bit, getting caught up on Royce’s recovery before I lean in and ask how things are going with Molly.
“Great,” he says, sounding pleased but not elaborating.
“She’s finally agreed to go out with him,” Connal contributes. “And she hasn’t cancelled yet.”
“How old is she?” Roy asks, catching on. Unfortunately, Royce just shrugs, indicating that he doesn’t know.
“She’s twenty-one,” Connal answers. “The girls took her out for her birthday not so long ago.”
“Are you fucking her or is Royce?” Mack growls at Connal, and I imagine that he’s annoyed on Charlie’s behalf.
“Calm down, she’s part of Charlie’s gaggle,” Connal says, holding his hands up. “She and Shade’s Ol’ Lady are tight, so they
all got to be friendly. And she’s giving Royce blue balls, if that matters to you.”
“Not a party girl, huh?” Mack asks, sounding more invested in the situation than I would have expected.
“Definitely not,” Royce mutters, looking up to find the three of us glaring at him. “Um, she’s up by four or five in the morning,
to get things going at the bakery, so she usually goes to bed pretty early. She’s gonna pick me up tomorrow night since I haven’t
replaced my truck yet.”
That’s the thing about Royce, if you don’t say anything he’ll just keep talking to fill the silence. Considering he still has the soft
cast on his arm and is barely past concussion protocol, I decide to have mercy on him.
“Have her in for a beer,” I suggest. “Introduce her around a little.”
“Why?” he asks, sounding confused.
I loudly exhale before lifting my beer up and tipping back my mug.
“Royce,” I interject, more out of curiosity than to cut off the avenue the conversation has taken. “What do you say you jump on
that app and order a couple of those pizzas you had delivered here a month ago? I can’t remember the name of that place.”
“Uh, I can’t,” he mumbles, reaching out to pour more beer for himself before looking up to see us all looking at him. “The app’s
suspended my usage.”
Connal lets out a choking sound, so I know I’m on the right track.
“Mind me asking why that is?” I lean around Connal to focus my glare on the kid.
“Just some misunderstanding on some orders I placed.”
“Misunderstanding…” I draw the word out, taking a sip before I continue. “Like sending meat to a vegan? How did you even
know about that situation?”
“Um, I just heard about it,” Royce replies after getting a nudge from Connal.
With that, it’s not hard to connect the dots. Charlie got wind of it somehow and probably mentioned it at The Garage during a
shift.
“It stops, now. Do you understand?”
“Yeah, I haven’t done anything else since before the explosion. I can’t help the bench since I paid for a six-month ad,” he tells
us.
With that, Roy and Mack demand to be told the story and I sit back with a bemused smile on my face. Other than being juvenile,
it is kind of funny.
Unfortunately, Royce never considered that Molly would be blamed, but that points more to his age than his creativity.
Once I heard what was happening, I placed a call to the resorts, and got them to pull the flyers that highlight Lachman’s studio.
Besides the loan that Molly is paying off, she’s got the kind of business that I’d like to see flourish in this town, so I feel
invested in helping her succeed.
“If you’re interested in her, you have to treat her right,” Mack suddenly leans across the table, stopping Royce from pouring
more beer.
“I plan on treating her right, all ni…Ouch!” Royce’s sentence is abruptly cut off as he glares between Connal and Roy.
Apparently, he got elbowed and kicked.
“She’s a good girl, so you’ll treat her appropriately,” Roy practically growls at him. “If you can’t do that, cancel the date now.”
*
It’s later that night, when Bree and I are settling down for bed that a text comes through to confirm the worry that had taken root
earlier.
Roy: Max died. She never disclosed Molly’s father.
 Chapter 7
Royce
I’m not entirely sure what fucking parallel universe I’ve entered, but I’m suddenly getting lectured about a date that hasn’t
happened by three men twice my age. And they’re supposed to be my brothers!
“I’m not cancelling the goddamn date!” I forcefully interject, trying to shut this shit down. “I practically had to get blown up for
her to agree to go out with me.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Flint wave his hand, low over the table in a signal to his buddies and my guts squeeze up,
remembering how Molly and I started.
“Wait a minute!” I turn to Connal so I can get a read on his face. “Is there a fucking bet about us?”
“Dude, no. Not that I’ve heard about,” he immediately answers before turning to look at Flint.
“Our families are fond of her, Royce. You’re our brother, so understand none of us want to be put in a bad situation.” Flint’s
response sounds reasonable, so I finish the rest of my beer and chill out.
Connal’s phone pings and seeing that it’s Jake, he excuses himself and I get up to leave when he does.
Parting ways, I head upstairs to my room and decide to check in with Molly.
She sounds happy with the restaurant I picked for the following night, but a little nervous about hanging out here in advance.
Which I can’t counter, considering the unexpected ribbing I just took.
*
The night of our date, my phone pings and I nearly jump out of my skin. I’ve been on edge all day, hoping that Molly won’t
cancel on me, and now I look around the main room to make sure nothing too crazy is going on.
“I’ll be right back,” I needlessly announce to the guys, then shrug off the comments they all make as I walk out to meet Molly in
the parking lot.
I can’t help the huge grin that cuts across my face when I see her, and try to shake off my nerves at the thought of fucking up our
date.
“Hey, sugar,” I say, opening the car door for her and reaching a hand down to help her. “We can just take off, if you’re not ready
for this.”
“I’m good,” she answers, looking at me in question before we hear someone call a greeting out to her. “Hey, Amy!”
Molly smiles and waves at Wrench and Amy as they head inside.
“You know them?”
“Of course,” she says, playfully leaning toward me with a grin on her face. “My wares are very popular around here, you
know.”
“I’m a huge fan of your wares, myself,” I agree, wolfishly staring into the V-neck of her shirt. That could have landed either
way, considering our history, but luckily Molly laughs at me; pushing me backward so she can close her car door.
“Is there a party here tonight?" she asks, seeing all the vehicles in the lot.
I shake my head, trying to figure out why it is so busy right now. We’re in that weird time when women with kids have taken
off, and guys like me, well, that’s when we’re texting chicks to come by and organizing booze and food runs.
Getting inside, Wrench catches my eye and motions to the empty seats at his table. I have no problem with that, but considering
all the faces I see between the door and them, I doubt we’ll make it and get out in time for the reservation I made.
“This is crazy, why don’t we come back another time?” I ask her, just as I see Jasper waving us over to where he’s sitting with
Flint, Mack, Roy, and Ellie. “Fuck,” I mumble under my breath.
“What’s wrong?” Molly asks.
“I don’t want to lose our reservation,” I tell her before following her line of sight to see that she’s looking over at Jasper’s
table.
“No, I mean, why are they all staring at me?” she rephrases her question, then looks down at her outfit to see if something went
wrong.
And there’s definitely nothing wrong with how her dark jeans wrap around the curve of her ass or how the black V-neck shirt
subtly showcases the swell of her breasts.
I let out a sigh. “Let’s go say hello to them, then we’ll head out, alright?”
Turning toward them, I run directly into Hawk.
“Shit!” he bellows as he tries to save the pitcher of beer that he’s holding. Like it’s happening in slow motion, my eyes follow
the arch of the beer that goes flying and in a split second I figure out where it will land.
“No!” I yell, pushing Molly out of the way—her eyes wide in confusion as she tries to grasp the hand that I just used to get her
out of the way, and regain her footing.
In my rush to save her, I might have pushed Molly a little too hard. She flies back into Russian, and like dominoes, he stumbles
into the guy behind him, and on down the line. The crowded room making sure my brothers spill their drinks as they knock into
the next unsuspecting individual. At least until they come to Gunner.
His eyes are glued on me as his chest gets sprayed with beer, but he doesn’t budge as Smithy steadies himself, starting to
apologize until he turns to see who Gunner is glaring at. That starts a reverse wave from what just happened, but the only one
I’m interested in is Molly.
“I’m sorry,” I immediately say, stepping over the puddle that Hawk’s beer made as I reach for her. “I was trying to help. Come
on, will you sit with Flint for a couple of minutes? I owe some people drinks.”
With the most mischievous smile I’ve ever seen from her, she leans up and mock whispers it in my ear. “Or we could just run
for it.”
With that gem, the mood around us instantly changes from differing levels of pissed-off to amused.
I laugh and kiss her cheek before pulling her over to Jasper’s table. While they’re each ready to give me grief, I cut them off.
“I’ll get you a round, but only if you don’t bad mouth me to Molly,” I quip before kissing her cheek again. “This old guy is
Mack. I think you know everyone else. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
“We haven’t really met yet either.” I hear Jasper say to her before their conversation is drowned out by other voices as I retreat
to the bar.
The girl who’s been bartending here for the past couple of months is glaring past me at the group I just left, making me call her
name a couple of times to get her attention.
I’ll never forget the conversation I had with her ex the day before I met Molly and I’ve avoided her as much as possible since
then, but I have no choice but to deal with her tonight.
Pointing out the guys I’m buying for, I get her moving and hand the drinks out as soon as she lines them up. Throwing some
money down when she finally puts all the drinks for Jasper’s table on a tray, I’m about to pick that up when she grabs my good
arm.
“I’m staying in the new wing,” she says, her eyes flickering wildly between me and Molly. “Why don’t you come find me when
you ditch Miss Goody-two-shoes?”
“Not interested,” I mumble, pulling my arm away and resting the tray on the soft cast that is still protecting my injury.
This time I carefully look behind me before I turn to carry the drinks back to where Molly’s sitting. Her face is flushed as she
smiles at whatever story Mack is telling and I slide the tray down before I stand next to her, resting my arm around her
shoulders.
I’m relieved that Mack’s telling the story about recommending Charlie for the job at The Garage and Connal’s reaction to
meeting her. I’m a little impressed when Molly reaches for the shot that I had gotten myself and throws it back after clinking
glasses with the others.
Since it’s going well, I figure it’s the best time to leave, so we say our goodbyes before they start telling stories that involve
me. I can tell from the look on Flint’s face, that he’s guessed my strategy and that’s when I remember the envelope that I had
seen her giving him that one day. I bite my tongue from asking about it, but am determined to figure out what’s happening there.
Twenty minutes later, as we’re walking into the steakhouse at the resort that Russian works at, I miss a step when I see the
hostess. Her hair is tied up in a bun, and the dark pantsuit that she’s wearing hides her tattoos and augmented tits, but I’d know
her face anywhere.
She grins and narrows her eyes when she looks from me to the screen in front of her, before greeting me.
“Good evening, sir,” she purrs, blatantly ignoring Molly. “Do you have a reservation with us?”
“Yes, it’s under MacNeal,” I respond, in a tone of voice meant to relay that I won’t take any shit from her. Molly momentarily
stiffens next to me, then looks up at me with wide eyes.
“Oh, Ryan MacNeal, is it? Yes, follow me, sir.” I swear to fuck she’s using the same goddamn velvety voice she uses when
she’s coaching girls about how I like my dick sucked and all I can think of are Molly’s words from earlier, …we could just run
for it.
After the hostess leaves us at the table, I see that Molly is frowning—completely understandable considering how Vixen, as the
hostess likes to be called, totally ignored her existence.
“Well, at least she’s not our waitress,” Molly says under her breath and I’m about to respond when I see the waitress who is
walking to our table.
What kind of fucking shit did I get myself into?
I catch a glare from the woman behind the bar as my eyes dart around the room, and with the exception of the male waiters, I’m
pretty sure I’ve partied with all the other employees here.
“Mr. MacNeal,” the waitress says with glee when she comes to stand uncomfortably close to me, and I groan, knowing that I
had to give my full name and cell number to make the reservation. “I’m Cheri and I’m here to serve you tonight.”
“Molly, do you want something to drink?” I ask her, and when her gaze shifts from Cheri to me, I know I’m toast.
“Water,” she answers.
“Make that two,” I tell Cheri who raises a mocking eyebrow at me.
“Tonight’s specials are…”
“No need for that,” I say, cutting her off in the hopes of having a word with Molly.
“No, Cheri,” Molly interjects with a very distinctive edge to her voice. “Why don’t you tell me the specials?”
Staring at the air above Molly’s head, Cheri proceeds to recite them with all the enthusiasm of a teenager at church, before
turning on her heel and walking away. Almost instantly, another of the women that Vixen’s brought out to the clubhouse, walks
over and fills my water glass. Since Molly’s is left empty, I immediately trade glasses with her, wondering if she’s about to
throw it at me.
Her eyes never leave mine as she drinks half the contents; I sit across from her, gaping like a fish as I try to figure out what to
say to her.
“The way I see it, we have a few options,” Molly says once she puts down the glass. “If we leave, they win and that would
really piss me off.”
I gulp in reply, not entirely sure where she’s going with this.
“If I order the most expensive items on the menu, they’ll think they’ve hurt me and, again, that’s a win for them.”
“What do you suggest then?” I ask, starting to feel a little hope seep back into our date.
“Moderately priced meals and genuine laughter?” She leans in to deliver that line with a smirk and the most malicious glint
I’ve ever seen in anyone’s eyes.
“I’m sorry about this, Molly. This isn’t what I wanted…”
“I know you’re a man-whore, Royce. The whole town does,” Molly says, waving a hand to the side. “Why have you been
asking me out for months?”
“Because that’s not who I want to be, and that night we met…” I answer her, reaching a hand across the table. “I’ve never had a
kiss like yours, I think about you constantly, and I want to try this whole dating thing, to see where it takes us.”
“Okay then, I can’t pull this off without you, but so help me God, if you make me a laughingstock, I will make your life a living
hell. Do you understand me?” Molly’s nostrils flare and the glint in her eyes has hardened.
Actually, my dick is hard now too. Christ, I had no idea she had this terrifying side to her.
“I’m in, sugar plum,” I promise her, and she slides her hand into mine, just as Cheri returns.
Molly looks at me, telling me what she wants and how she wants her steak prepared. I look up at Cheri, “That sounds good, I’ll
have the same, but without the spinach.”
Cheri’s mouth is hanging open when I turn back to Molly.
“I meant to ask you about…” I start, before looking back up at the server who hasn’t moved. “Oh, and can we both get more
water?”
Once she’s moved off, I get the story of where Molly grew up and how she fell in love with baking.
As she speaks, I register the sound of glass breaking beyond the kitchen door but hearing her talk got me thinking about how
close I was with my mom and sister when I was growing up. I enjoy Molly’s stories and in her tone, I hear the longing she feels
for her mom and grandmother. Once again, I feel guilty for not making it home to visit my family in so long.
At least, I do when I’m trying not to growl at the woman circling our table to constantly refill our water glasses. Just then,
Molly’s thumb slides down the line on the palm of my hand and I lift my eyes back up to hers.
“Food’s here,” she murmurs and I nearly sigh in relief when I see it being brought out by a man.
“Sorry about the wait, folks,” he says, uncovering Molly’s plate and serving her first. “Your waitress was called away, so I’ll
be taking over for you, my name is Dave, if you need anything else.”
Considering how red his neck is, I’m certain there’s more to the story, but I’m just going to be thankful for the change and not
focus on it.
“Our waitress is being escorted out by security,” Molly whispers, her eyes focused over my shoulder, before leaning in closer
to me. “And I’d be careful of the girl with the water pitcher, she’s glaring at us. What exactly do you do to women, that
fascinates them so?”
Since that was the absolute last thing I expected to come out of her mouth, I start to choke on the steak I was swallowing and
draw everyone’s attention. Molly’s nostrils are flaring and she’s trying really hard not to smile as she slides my water glass
closer to me.
When I can finally draw in my breath, I wave off the girl with the water pitcher and grab Molly’s hand, bringing it to my lips.
“I’ll show you later,” I promise her, trying to suck her finger into my mouth as she tugs her arm back.
“No, I’m serious. I hear girls talking about you at the bakery, they don’t seem to care that their friends are sleeping with you.
How do you keep them all straight?”
“I don’t.” I shrug, throwing my napkin to the side of my plate and giving up on the date. Although, I should at least be happy that
the women haven’t taken to describing my dick at the local bakery. “They don’t matter to me, Molly. And they do care that I
hook up with anyone I choose to, but they’re hoping they’ll be the one that I patch, so they put up with it.”
I raise my glance from the table, about to suggest that we call it a night when I see the pity in her eyes and I decide to
completely level with her.
“That night we met outside of Connal and Jake’s house, I was having a kind of ‘come to Jesus’ moment. Something had
happened beforehand that really showed me the impact of how the shit I was pulling was hurting others. I said it to you before,
Molly. I don’t want to be that guy anymore. My dad was that guy and my mom sure as hell raised me to be better than him,” I
earnestly try to explain that I’m trying to change.
“What is your mom like?” she asks, taking the final bite of her steak, her actions telling me that she’s not ready to bolt.
I smile, thinking of her but instead of words, I have a better idea. “You’re off tomorrow, right?”
She nods her head looking confused as I pull cash out of my wallet and leave it on the table, just before I reach for her hand to
help her out of her seat.
“Can I drive your car?” I ask and hope she won’t consider this kidnapping.
“Where are we going?” she responds as I hurry her along toward the parking lot.
“Home,” I tell her, helping her into the passenger side of her Civic.
“Home?”
“To meet my mom.” I’m suddenly bursting with excitement and although I take it as a good sign that she hasn’t bolted from the
car as I circle around it, she looks more than little shocked.
“You’re crazy,” she responds, even as she reaches back for her seatbelt. “I thought you weren’t cleared to drive yet.”
“True. It’s close enough to the timeframe they gave me and I stopped taking the pain killers, so we’ll just ignore that.”
“Where does she live?” she asks as I speed out of the parking lot, hoping to stall on answering that until I get us to the highway.
“Colorado.”
“Where in Colorado?”
“Just over the border.”
“Which border?” That question has me throwing my head back and laughing harder than I have in a long time.
Damn, she doesn’t miss a trick. “I promise I’ll have you back for work on Monday, alright?”
“I should have you turn my car around, but you look so happy all of sudden.” Quickly looking over at her, the grin on her face
must match the one that I’m wearing.
“It’s been too long, but it feels good to know we can surprise her tomorrow,” I say, reaching for her hand.
“What did you mean about your dad earlier?”

Molly
Royce is quiet for long moments after I ask the question, one that I would be sensitive about if he had asked me. In some ways,
I’m sure the answer is pivotal to both of our personal stories.
“She wouldn’t ever talk about him, but once I hit school age, well, people knew the story and kids talk shit,” he finally says.
And yes, I know as well as anyone how kids repeat the shit they hear from their parents. “I didn’t know how to ask her, without
hurting her so I asked my older sister. She at least remembered him.”
“Is he dead?”
“Yes, but not before leaving a path of destruction behind him,” he says, turning on the blinkers and pointing to a sign for a gas
station.
“I’m going to run inside, do you want anything?” I ask him when he pulls up to a pump.
“Good idea, hit the bathroom before we run out of decent options.”
“Well, more important than that, we can’t take a road trip without snacks!”
Royce laughs at that before slipping me some cash. I try to wave it away, but he’s determined. When I come back out with a
couple bags full of treats, he has the hood of my car up and is talking to another man with a Northern Grizzlies cut.
For some reason, that it turns out to be Jake makes this spur of the moment, first-date road trip a little less scary. It’s just
comforting that it’s someone whose wife likes me well enough to report me missing if Royce turns out to be a homicidal
maniac.
“Hey, Jake, can you let Charlie know I need a raincheck for tomorrow? I’ll call her when I get back,” I ask him and he nods in
reply.
“Sugar?” Royce calls out to me as I’m about to slide into the passenger seat. “When was the last time you changed your oil?”
“I don’t know, what does that little sticker thingy say?” I pop my head back out in time to see Jake and Royce exchange a
glance.
“The sticker said that it was due for an oil change last November. I was hoping you just didn’t get a new sticker,” he replies,
pinching the bridge of his nose. “How about your brakes? Have you noticed any issues with them?”
“Like what?” I shrug, I don’t remember ever doing anything to the brakes.
“Like how you have to stomp your foot down to get your car to stop?”
Jake lets out a snort and pats Royce on the back before he turns toward his motorcycle. “Safe travels, kids.”
I get situated in the passenger seat, waiting for Royce to lower the hood and get behind the wheel. Then he just sits there.
“Is there something wrong with my car?” I hazard a guess as to why he keeps opening his mouth, like he’s trying to find the
right words.
“On Monday, after we get back, I want to take it in and evaluate what needs to be done,” he answers me after pulling onto the
highway. “There are some things I can do immediately, but with the time needed to order some parts, I can check with Connal
about getting you the loaner car.”
“We can talk about it then, but I don’t know if I can afford everything at once,” I tell him, almost giggling as his hands tighten
around the steering wheel and he grimaces. “Are you alright?”
“You know what I do for a living, right?” he asks, looking at me as I open up the Twizzlers I bought.
“You’re a mechanic.” I smile patiently in his direction as I open another bag.
“Yes. And if you’re dating a mechanic, he’s going to make damn sure your car is taken care of.”
“But I’m not dating anyone,” I respond as I open the bag of pretzels.
“I’m taking you home to meet my mom, so you bet your ass we’re dating,” he huffs, reaching over to grab a handful of pretzels.
“With an answer like that, I’d bet you have less experience dating than I do,” I counter.
“Why is that?” He cocks an eyebrow in my direction. “And do you have a Coke?”
Opening his drink, I put it in his cupholder and wave off his first question. “Small town bullshit.”
“Well, we got about six hours to go, so…” With that, he takes a huge gulp of his drink and waits for me to continue.
“My mom, she was considered, let’s say promiscuous in high school and I don’t get the impression that she changed much in
the years between then and when she came home years later with a baby.” I shrug as I tell him the short version, pointing to
myself to indicate the baby in question. “Small town, big gossips. The kids my age all heard shit about her and teased me in the
years after she died.”
“Yeah, I grew up on the pity version of the gossip mill,” he grumbles, nodding his head in understanding.
“Which circle of hell did you get?” I ask, not sure that a guy like him can understand what it’s like growing up feeling so
isolated inside a tight-knit community.
“Bigamy,” Royce says, the side of his mouth twisting as his nostrils flare. “Turns out my father had three separate families,
each one living seven hundred miles from the nearest one. Then he got engaged to a woman whose brother was a state trooper;
that guy was bored one night and ran a search on my dad. Pieced all the shit together and arrested him at the engagement party.”
“No shit?” I gasp out, my Twizzler frozen halfway up to my mouth.
“I wasn’t even six months old, and my mom’s life just blew up. The story caught national attention and overnight there were
news stations outside our door, I guess. His first wife tried to sue my mom and the other woman he married in between them.”
Royce lifts his soft drink and takes a huge swig.
“You said he was dead. Did he…” I hesitantly ask, not sure how much he wants to talk about this.
“No,” he interrupts. “The asshole slipped on the courthouse steps and cracked his skull on an iron railing. My mom worked her
ass off raising my sister and me. I don’t know how to explain it, we had this weird family dynamic. Growing up, I just knew
there were some questions I was never allowed to ask.”
The next hour or so goes by mostly enjoying the music and snacks, until a song that my mom used to sing to me comes on and I
broach our previous topic again. “So, you want to tell your mom that we’re dating?”
The furrow between his brow tells me that he’s trying to work through his thoughts on the subject, but he just lets the silence
hang between us until he finally lets out a sigh.
“You realize we just had a disastrous first date?” I ask to confirm that we’re on the same page.
“That was a goddamn nightmare,” he laughs mirthlessly. “Christ, I finally get you to go out with me and I walk you into a
minefield.”
“At least I wasn’t the only one who didn’t know your name is Ryan,” I smoothly criticize him for that omission.
“You never asked.”
“It didn’t occur to me that Royce wasn’t your name. Where did that come from anyway?”
“When I was young and dumb…”
I let out a louder huff than I mean to and get a wry twist of his lips in response.
“I bought my first Harley, it was used and needed some work before it was road worthy, but I kept saying it was going to be the
Rolls Royce of bikes,” he continues his story. “Hence, Royce came about.”
“Do you still have it?”
“Of course, I do! It’s still a piece of shit, but it’s my baby. It’s the best Harley I could afford at the time, so I shrugged off the
comments from the guys and made the best of it.”
“That’s kind of awesome,” I quietly give him my seal of approval before turning to look out of the window, enjoying all the
stars in the night sky.
While this is turning out to be more of an adventure than a date, I’m learning more about him than I would during a conventional
evening out. I wonder what I’m walking into with this impromptu visit to see his mom and what she’ll think of her son showing
up with a stranger, or if she’s used to this kind of behavior from him.
*
“Molly,” Royce whispers, his hand tucking my hair behind my ear as he gently wakes me up. “Hey, sweetness, I thought we
could run in here to get some clothes and things?”
My eyes shift from the excitement in his brown eyes to the bright lights illuminating a big box store’s parking lot and I nod in
agreement. Thankfully, he seems to understand that I’m not big on talking when I first wake up, simply taking my hand as we
walk to the front doors.
Leaving our cart in the aisle that separates the men and women’s clothing sections, we both browse the aisles to find
underwear and extra shirts before heading to find toiletries.
I get a laugh from him when he sees the children’s toothbrushes I picked out for us, one with cupcakes and the other with
motorcycles adorning their handles. He spontaneously leans down to kiss me and I hear someone sigh; looking up into the
weathered eyes of an older lady, approaching us with her own cart, she gives me a wink and a nod as she passes by.
“Do we need anything else?” he asks me.
“Does your mom have any allergies?” I counter and he shakes his head. “Then how about we get some groceries and I’ll make
breakfast for her—since we’re showing up unannounced.”
“Thank you, Molly,” he quietly replies, pushing the cart toward the food aisles.
“Don’t thank me yet,” I quip, bumping him with my hip. “Let’s see if the cashiers know you.”
“Mom’s gonna love you,” he deadpans more to himself than to me as I outpace him to see the selection they have and plan out a
meal.
 Chapter 8
Royce
We arrive at my mom’s house with the dawn, and I’m glad we’re finally here given that Molly’s leg has been bouncing since
we left the store. I’ve tried rubbing her thigh a few times, but my dick starts to harden every time she relaxes under my touch.
Molly will never admit it, but she lets out a little sigh when I do that and I wonder how much longer I’ll have to wait before I
get her into my bed. And how I’ll get her to stay once I do.
I may have ticked her off something fierce coming out of the gate, however she sure seems like she’s warming up to me again;
much like that night we kissed at Charlie’s party.
Reaching into the bright, red flower pot on the front porch, I feel around for the spare key. I’m still unsuccessfully digging that
out when I hear a floorboard creak on the other side of the door. Looking over my shoulder, I smile in the direction of the
window and almost instantly, the door is pulled open and Momma’s wrapping her arms around me.
“Ryan! Oh, Lord, you scared me! Are you alright? What are you doing here?” Her questions are muffled, as they’re all spoken
from where her face is tucked into my chest. “Goodness, you’ve gotten fit! It’s so good to have you home!”
“I missed ya, Ma,” I tell her, keeping my arms wrapped around her. “I brought someone I want you to meet.”
With that she peeks up at my face, her tear tracks pulling at my heart as much as the hopeful expression I see in her eyes. I once
again kick myself for not getting back months ago; like I had promised.
When I kiss her forehead, she leans to the side to peer around me. Molly must take this as her cue, since I hear the car door
open.
“Ma, this is Molly Kent. Molly, this is my ma, Colleen MacNeal,” I say, waving between them, before leaning down and
whispering into my mom’s ear. With my words, her eyes light up her face and she caresses my cheek before she walks down
the three steps to greet Molly.
After a quick hug, they stand there, grasping each other’s arms and chatting like they’re old friends. Since I’m not needed, I
walk around the car to pop the trunk. The groan that the hinges let out adds another item to my growing list of things to check
when I wrestle this well-worn, seven-year old vehicle from Molly’s grasp long enough to revitalize it.
Loading my arms up with our purchases, I carry them inside, carefully leaving out the eggs and other things she scooped up for
the meal she planned.
“Ryan!” Mom can’t even pretend she isn’t laughing at me as she reenters her house. “I don’t know if I’m flattered or horrified
that I’ve become your back-up plan to salvage a date!”
“Traitor.” I throw a wink in Molly’s direction, before looking at the woman who gave everything to raise her babies. “Ma, I
need your help with this one.”
“Okay, I’m going to get started on breakfast,” Molly announces with an embarrassed laugh, waving her hands at us to leave her
alone. “Why don’t you two go get caught up and I’ll yell if I need anything?”
“I’m not going to complain,” Mom replies with wide smile. “But for an early dinner, how about if we see if Shannon’s family
can come and I’ll order pizza to make it easy?
“Pizza works, but I’ll make dessert,” Molly agrees, and I hope my sister can make it considering the short notice. “Oh, where’s
the bathroom?”
With that settled, Mom and I head into the small living room to catch up.
She fills the first few minutes with news of my sister and their lives, most of which I know, but it gives me time to prepare for
her interrogation. I know it’s coming and overdue, I still just don’t know how to explain the certainty I feel in regards to
wanting Molly in my life.
“Ryan…”
“Mom, have you ever dated anyone? After my father, I mean, and seriously dated?” I ask, cutting her off. The sad smile she
gives me says it all, after opening and closing her mouth two times, she merely shakes her head.
“I suppose if I had ever bothered with therapy, they would have addressed my trust issues.” She pauses a moment after that
statement before reaching out for my hand. “I did the best I could, Ryan. I didn’t grow up in a time that therapy was common
and maybe I should have done more for you and…”
“Mom, no. You did the best you could and always made us a priority.” This is the first time we’ve openly talked about the past
and the last thing I want is for her to feel guilty about any of it. “It might be a good time for you to allow yourself some
happiness.”
“What about you, Ryan?” Her eyes convey more than her words when she looks at me. Mom knows damn well that I fuck
around, avoiding intimacy at all costs.
“I think, if I had met Molly on any other day, I’d have tried to get into her pants and moved on when she said no.”
“Did my baby have an epiphany?”
“It was a bit more like a two by four, than me figuring shit out on my own, but yeah,” I murmur, still vividly picturing the man in
the parking lot and the two baby seats in the back of his car, one of which held that little boy.
Mom sits quietly for a few moments, just holding my hand. She tilts her head as her eyes narrow. “An actual two by four?”
“No, but just as effective.”
Her body relaxes again as she nods and rests her head against my arm.
Breakfast is fantastic, but my lack of sleep is catching up with me by the end of it.
“Ryan, you go climb into your old bed,” Mom insists when we finish eating. “Molly, do you want to come to the farmer’s
market with me?”
“Oh! I’d love to,” she answers enthusiastically and I’m glad she at least got a few hours of sleep on the way here.
When they leave, I drift around the small home that seems frozen in time. I can’t remember the last time I was here alone and as
memories come flooding back, I wonder what it would take to convince my mom to move to Rowansville.
Would mom finally be able to shake off the ghosts of her past, like Shannon and I have done, by moving somewhere no one’s
ever heard of her?
My sister lives over an hour from here; somehow balancing three kids and a job as an accountant with her husband, who’s a
high school principal. While Shannon makes time for Mom, I wonder if there’s anything else keeping her tied to this area.
*
“Royce?” Molly whispers as she lowers herself to the edge of the mattress.
Without opening my eyes, I snake an arm up to pull her down alongside me. She partially shrieks, and water from her freshly
showered hair hits my face when she giggles as she cuddles up to my side.
“Well, you got me into bed. Now what are you going to do with me, stud?”
I can’t help the growl I let out as I crack one eye open. The living room is on the other side of the very thin wall at my back, so
I can’t think of any place she’d be safer from me.
Her gentle laughter shakes the bed, making the old metal frame groan. “How long did I sleep?”
“Just a few hours,” she answers, her lips moving against the sensitive spot at the base of my neck as she speaks. “Your mom is
wonderful, but I know she wants time with you. Your turn for a shower, while I sleep for a bit. Your sister will be here around
two, so if you could give me time for a coffee before I meet them, I’d appreciate it.”
“If she said two, she’ll be here between one and one thirty,” I tell her. “Shannon’s like a drill instructor, and me bringing a girl
home will be added incentive to get everyone here.”
“Don’t touch the desserts I made. I thought it would be fun for her kids to be in charge of icing the cupcakes, so that’s all
prepared,” Molly tells me, looking excited and I love that she thought of a way to involve the kids. Something I never would
have considered.
I lean in to kiss her, feeling slightly guilty when I taste the minty-ness of the toothpaste she used, but enjoying the dance of our
tongues too much to stop. Rolling over on top of her, I press my cock against her thigh, and kiss her forehead before I put a foot
on the floor to get a move on.
“Sweet dreams, sugar pop,” I say, tapping her red lips with my finger and enjoying the look she gives me.

Molly
I’m all smiles when Royce pulls away from his mom’s house, even knowing that I’ll have my hands full once I get to the bakery
in the morning.
While I still have a great relationship with my niece, it’s what Royce has with his mom and sister that I’ve been missing so
much. The tightknit bond between them would be obvious to a blind person, and the curiosity his nephews and niece have about
him kept me grinning. Especially when Royce eagerly jumped in to help them decorate the cupcakes.
I stayed out of the way, smiling at how Shannon’s husband quietly snapped pictures of them when they were happily making a
mess and goofing around.
“We’re keeping you,” Shannon said sometime after we’d devoured way too much pizza. She had come to sit next to me while
Royce was playing Jenga with the kids and his mom, intertwining her fingers in mine. “I can’t remember the last time I’ve seen
him this happy.”
“I’m not sure that’s because of me, but we’ll see how our second date goes, alright?”
She laughed at my comment before squeezing my hand. “Don’t you let him off easy if he screws up, you hear me?”
“Oh, I won’t,” I assured her, sticking my tongue out at Royce when he caught my eye.
On the way back to Rowansville, we take turns driving; our bodies working on minimum sleep along with the excitement of the
visit. We talk in short bursts, but after meeting his family, I feel more bound to him than I would have ordinarily.
I’m driving the final leg of the trip, listening to him softly snoring in the passenger seat and find myself grinning like an idiot,
wondering how our second date could possibly be any better than this. As giddy as I am, my old insecurities about how I’d be
viewed if word gets around that I’m sleeping with someone like him, rear their ugly head.
But armed with a newfound confidence, I push those thoughts aside and vow that I’ll take each day at a time with him; enjoying
our time together without worrying about the future.
*
As agreed, we drive directly to my bakery, and I’m completely surprised to see both Riley’s truck and Gunner’s bike in the
alley where I usually park. When I pull up, they both emerge from her truck, and Riley’s swollen lips and red cheeks tell me
that we interrupted a hot and heavy make out session.
“Oh, God! What’s wrong?” I ask, not having driven by the front of the building, suddenly terrified that the window had been
busted again.
“Nothing!” Riley immediately responds. “The girls got together yesterday and I realized how tired you’d be today, so I thought
I could come and help you get things started.”
I can barely believe the kindness of this offer, and I just look between the two of them. As tired as I am, I can’t understand what
Gunner’s here for, but I clap my hands together when I realize this means I’ll be in good shape when I open up in a couple of
hours.
“You are the best, Riley! Thank you so much,” I answer as Gunner leans down to give her a kiss before getting on his bike.
“Um, I can make you guys a coffee before you leave.”
“Another time, I’m going back to bed,” Gunner says before the roar of his bike cuts through the quiet.
Looking down when I feel a tug on my hand, Royce is trying to extract my key chain from my fingers. “I’m going to do the
same,” he says, leaning in to give me a thorough kiss.
Our lips and tongue are the only parts of our bodies that are touching, but it’s enough, for now at least. Perfect even.
When we part, he unclips the car fob from my key chain and gives me a wink before he slides into the driver’s seat of my
Civic.
“So, how was your date?” Riley asks as I unlock the door.
“Different,” I answer, drawing the word out. Riley seems to understand that I need time to process it and walks directly to the
sink to wash her hands without saying anything else.
I dart into the bathroom to do the same and after a few quick instructions to Riley, we work in companionable silence. I’m
absolutely dragging today, so her presence is a godsend. Once we get the majority of things ready, we put the first batches in
the oven before I go upstairs to shower and change.
Getting back downstairs, Riley has helped herself to a Diet Coke, but has thankfully turned on the coffee maker.
“I’m sorry, I have no idea how to use this thing, so I didn’t want to do anything other than give the water a chance to heat up,”
she explains, sheepishly looking at all the buttons on the face of the machine.
“I appreciate that almost as much as I will forever owe you for being here this morning!” I assure her. “I can take things from
here if you need to get to class today.”
“No, I’m good. I just have one class this summer, thanks to the screwy system at the university, so I just go in three days a
week,” she tells me, rubbing her hand down over her belly. “I got to walk at graduation, but my diploma is blank until I finish
it. I’m just happy I’ll be done when this one makes her arrival.”
“Oh! Did you find out the sex?” I ask, wondering what gossip I missed out on yesterday.
“It’s too early, I just have a feeling,” she says with a shrug. “My Gram says it’ll serve Gunner right to have a little girl.”
“She’ll never be allowed to date,” I add with a giggle, just picturing it.
“Well, I wasn’t allowed to either and look how that turned out!”
“Not too bad, if you ask me.” We share a smile, before my phone pings. I frown down at the message Royce has sent me and
wonder how much I’m going to end up spending on car maintenance.
“Everything okay?”
“Apparently, I’ve been mistreating my car and instead of going to sleep, Royce started inspecting it.” I’m a bit distracted when
I answer Riley, since I’m messaging him not to start ordering parts until I get to review the pricing.
Royce: I got ya. Don’t worry about it.
I let out a sigh, then frown when I see the knowing smile pulling at Riley’s lips.
“It’s out of your control, so just go with it,” she advises me, without needing to be told what’s going on. “They’re all like that
and it’s how they show us they care about us.”
Now I’m the one fighting the smile that’s tugging on my lips.
“I really will be fine here, but could you do me one more favor?” I ask, not waiting for her agreement when I turn to start
crafting a special breakfast sandwich for Royce.
After twenty minutes of Riley teasing me about the secret menu she wants access to, she leaves to drop off his coffee and
breakfast before getting on with her day.
Shortly after I open for the day, the hostess from the steak restaurant, followed closely by the other two waitresses wander into
the bakery. The hostess feigns surprise to see me there then launches into a full discussion about carbs with her two friends.
None of them are blatantly rude to me, but it’s the hostess’s ingratiating behavior that sets warning bells off with me big time
and that’s when I start to wonder what exactly they’re all up to.
I pray for salvation when the bell above the door chimes. Unfortunately, it turns out to be the other girls that I know have
hooked up with Royce. Thankfully, they seem to be rival groups and simply sneer at the hostess, calling her Vixen, of all things.
Thankfully, they’ve cleared out by the end of the breakfast rush and the rest of the day has a steady enough pace that I don’t
have time to even think of crashing. It’s just before closing that Royce pulls up on his bike in front of the bakery.
He walks in, looking every bit as tired as I feel.
“I was wondering if there was anything you needed, since I’m going to keep your car for a few days,” he informs me as he
locks the door and flips the sign.
“No, I just need to sleep,” I tell him as I open the register to pull out the larger bills and shove them in my pocket before I lock
the drawer.
“Me too.”
Smiling at him, I reach my hand out and he eagerly crosses to me. I lead the way to the small apartment I live in upstairs,
removing my apron and shoes as I enter.
“It’s not much,” I say with a shrug, looking around to make sure I didn’t leave anything embarrassing lying about.
He immediately sits down on my chaise lounge to start tugging off his boots, then neatly piles up his cut and belt. I’ve already
slid under my comforter, too tired to care about the state of my clothes.
Royce is standing near the bed with his hand over the button on his jeans. “Um, my jeans are filthy from today, but I don’t want
you to think I’m expecting sex.”
“Take them off,” I simply respond, looking up at his face. He quickly sheds his jeans and his T-shirt before sliding in and
immediately pulling me up against his side.
The last thing I register is the smell of oil mixed with his perspiration, not anything that I’m used to in my apartment, but I’m
happy he’s here.
*
My alarm clock shows that it’s just after three when I wake up alone, I smile when I make out the sound of the shower running;
then full out giggle a few minutes later when Royce comes out with my robe tied around his waist.
“I didn’t really think that through last night. I could smell myself when I woke up and wanted to save you from that,” he
explains to me with a shrug.
“That’s very thoughtful. I’ll keep it in mind when I leave you a review,” I sass back to him, before pointing to the mini fridge.
“Could you grab a water for me?”
“There’s something that’s been bothering me,” he says after we both take long swallows from our bottles.
“What’s that?”
“I never got to finish what I was doing, you know. The night we met,” he answers me, stretching out beside me again.
I knit my brows together, but once he slides his hand down along my body, I’m no longer confused about his meaning. “Oh.”
“May I?”
I nod my head, wondering how far he’s expecting us to go—because after some of my customers yesterday, I’m nervous about
jumping all in with him.
Kneeling between my legs, Royce grins up at me as he starts licking my clit and I moan, bending my knees to give him better
access. Christ, his tongue… That’s the last thought I have until my fists are balling up the sheets and I’m screaming his name.
When he pulls his body up over mine, resting on the outside of the mattress, I briefly wonder what it is I feel curving along my
thigh, up to my hip. But it’s a fleeting thought, as I close my eyes and drift off.
 Chapter 9
Royce
Coming back from a run later that week, I pause on the street outside of the bakery. It’s close to lunchtime though, so I’m not
surprised that it looks like she has a full house.
I rev my motor a few times and see her wave her hand over the heads of those standing between us. Smiling that she got my
version of a text message, I head over to The Garage.
After handing a bundle off to Russian, I park my bike and head inside to help take some of the pressure off of the lineup of cars.
Jumping into the third bay, I handle six oil changes since it seems like half the town decided to use their lunch break to check
this chore off of their list today.
“Watch it,” I mumble to myself, seeing Charlie back away from the car she’s finishing up, her heel landing on top of the line
that I painted between the bays.
Granted, I may have gone overboard with the lines. And the carefully traced and measured, color-coded footprints that lead
from the various points of entry to each bay.
I gave up a perfectly good holiday to come in, take everyone’s boots from the locker area and approximated the length of our
strides so that Charlie would have a carefully laid path so she would stop running into, or over, me.
The results have been pretty good, with the exception being the boy who snuck away from his mom and found his way down
into a lift pit.
Not having much experience with kids, I didn’t think about how tempting the footprints would be to our customers’ children.
That meant a whole other day off spent creating a fun path around the waiting area.
Getting Connal and Charlie past the rush, I take a quick shower before doubling back to the bakery.
“Oh, you,” Molly lets out a groan when she pops her head up from below the counter.
“Aren’t we past that?” I ask with a grin.
“That was relief, Royce,” she replies, sinking back down onto her stool. “I’m so tired.”
“How tired?”
“I’m locking the door, leaving the rest of the food out for the mice, and going to crawl into bed fully dressed, tired,” she tells
me and I chuckle at her detailed description.
“You don’t have mice,” I assure her. “You’re too tidy for that. Give me your keys.”
Reaching into her pocket, she pulls them out and places them on the counter without questioning me—and that’s when I really
know she’s exhausted.
“Go upstairs for a nap, sugar,” I reach down to help her up, then guide her to the stairs.
After the first few steps, I turn to look around and start by locking the front door and turning the sign to ‘Closed’. It’s a little
early, but she only has a few items left, so I doubt it matters.
I get those wrapped up, wipe down the counters and make sure she didn’t leave an oven on. As I’m eyeballing the room to
make sure I didn’t miss anything, or that there aren’t mouse droppings anywhere, then my eyes fall on the register.
Rooting around under it, I find a canvas pouch before hitting a bunch of buttons. Finally, the drawer shoots out, and as I
expected, she left the cash behind. I shove it all into the pouch and put that with the credit card reader on one of the steps.
Next, I run to the diner to grab some food we can heat up later.
*
“What time is it?” Molly’s voice is groggy from sleep and I look up from the movie I’ve been watching.
“A bit past seven,” I answer, crossing the five feet or so to crouch beside her bed. “What’ve you been up to, that you’re so
tired?”
“I’ve just been slammed lately. Lots of tourists this time of year,” she answers with a yawn.
“Have you thought about hiring some help?”
“Not this year, but I will next summer,” Molly says, suddenly sitting up and blinking her eyes rapidly.
“The cash is right there,” I offer, correctly guessing her concern. “I didn’t know what to do with your card reader so I brought it
up here also.”
“I can’t believe I forgot it! Thank you.” Swinging her feet off the side of the bed, she raises her arms up and stretches them until
her back starts to crack.
“Why don’t you get in the shower? I got us BLTs and potato salad for dinner, I hope that’s alright.”
“Today, you’re my favorite person in the whole world.”
“It’s because of the bacon, isn’t it?” I ask with a wink, trying to ignore how much I love hearing that.
“Don’t sell yourself short,” Molly answers with a smile, kissing my cheek before heading to the bathroom.
When I was younger, there was a time I counted the women I hooked up with. It stopped mattering after a while, then the act
almost stopped mattering, just the rush. I can tell the moment a woman decides to sleep with me, and it used to amuse me.
Tonight, it scares the hell out of me.
Molly matters more to me than any woman I’ve ever been around and I desperately want her to enjoy this.
Because from the second she opens the bathroom door, it’s like I can fucking smell her decision. She sits beside me on the
small couch and we share a sandwich, rather than opening the second one. Her leg is pressed up against mine the entire time
and like naughty kids, we play with our food; right up to the end when I rub the pickle spear over her bottom lip.
I yank it back when she tries to take a bite out of it and lean forward to kiss her instead, my tongue dancing and stroking hers.
“That’s not what I wanted in my mouth,” she laughs, pulling back from me.
“I know what you want in your mouth,” I tease her back. “And you aren’t ready for that.”
The snort that comes flying out of her makes my dick twitch in response.
My comment wasn’t false bravado, she’ll think it was until I show her what I’ve been saddled with, but I don’t want her mind
on that just yet.
From what I’ve gathered, she doesn’t have much experience, so I’m going to have to warm her up. That starts now.
I stand and lean over her, sliding my arms down to lift her and carry her back to bed. The sheets are still warm from her nap
and her hair’s still wet from her shower; now they’re going to get all messed up.
Making quick work of removing her pajamas, I start licking her pussy. She shoves her hand through my hair and bucks under
me.
“Do you have a condom, Royce?” She moans a few moments into my administrations.
I lightly nip her clit with my front teeth, knowing damn well that she isn’t ready yet.
Reaching down, I slip a finger inside of her to start paving my way. When I feel her start to come, I add a second one,
scissoring them inside of her so she can accept the width of my head when it’s time.
That quickly sends her over the edge and I smile when I move up along her body. I remove my clothes and give her a moment to
recover.
“I want you,” she says. I kiss her, reaching for one of her small hands, I wrap it around my dick.
Her head shoots up from the pillow, nearly headbutting me. “What is that?”
“It’ll be alright,” I assure her. “It just might take a little getting used to.”
As she continues to stare at it, I start to get more than a little self-conscious. Not that I have anything to worry about in the size
department, but meat like this is expected on someone of Gunner or Russian’s height, not mine.
The nine inches that I have is nothing to sneeze at, but coupled with the width at the head—until it tapers down at the base—I
was lucky to get a hand job from my high school girlfriends.
Oh, and it curves.
After I graduated from high school, a couple of my buddies and I headed out this way for a summer job at a guest ranch. When
we randomly found ourselves at a party at the clubhouse and I finally lost my virginity to someone who appreciated what I was
gifted with—I knew I wasn’t going home.
I slide my hand back down to Molly’s pussy and start finger fucking her again. She’s definitely wet enough to accept me, I just
need her to trust that I can make her feel good and not like she’s being hit by a train.
“I think I should be on top,” she suggests, determination shining in her blue eyes.
Thank fuck that’s not a ‘no’. I exhale the deep breath I was holding and lean in to kiss her some more. Shifting back, I roll a
condom on before I tug her on top of me.
Spreading her pussy lips apart, I rest the head of my cock just inside her entrance and hear her suck in her breath.
“I was just getting you started,” I say, trying to keep her calm before changing to a formal British accent. “Let me know if I can
be of any further assistance.”
Her eyes dart from my chest up to my meet my gaze and for the first time in minutes, there’s a smile hovering around her lips.
“Christ, Royce,” she moans out, trying to slide herself down my length.
Until now, I’ve just been holding my dick in place, but I lean up to lick her nipples—and that finally gets her moving in the right
direction.
Before long, she’s asking for more help and I eagerly roll her onto her back, pulling one of her legs over my shoulder.
I keep my thrusts shallow, Molly’s going to feel me all day tomorrow as it is. It’s when she reaches her hand up to cup my
cheek, maintaining eye contact with me as her orgasm overtakes her, that I do something I’ve never done before. I come at the
same time.
Wrapped in her arms as we catch our breath, I can’t stop kissing her neck, ear, head, any area within reach really.
“Can I stay the night?” I ask, hating to break the moment, but not wanting to assume anything.
“Um, I have to get up earlier since I didn’t start my prep,” she whispers back.
I can’t stop the hurt I feel with her words and start to swing a leg off of the bed.
“Sometimes you snore,” she continues. “But maybe if you sleep on your side, you won’t?”
“I—um, yeah. I’ll sleep on my side. I can stay?” I confirm and when she nods, relief floods through me. “Poke me if I snore, I
don’t mind.”
“Deal,” she replies, giving me a quick kiss. “Now let me get cleaned up before I crash again.”
Within minutes, I’m spooned around Molly, listening to her snoring and smiling like a fool. Lifting my head when I see her
phone light up, I chuckle when I see it’s just past nine.
I can’t remember the last time I went to bed this early.
 Chapter 10
Flint
“Bree?” I confirm, calling her name over my shoulder from the easy chair when I hear the front door open. “You were late
tonight.”
Considering that Ragnar’s tail is wagging a thousand times per second, I’m certain that she’s the one who had just pulled up to
the house.
“You’re still up?” she asks, crossing the room to pet Ragnar before turning a worried smile on me. “The bathrooms were a
mess, so I took a crack at them so the cleaners wouldn’t quit on me when they saw ‘em in the morning.”
“A little indigestion and a John Wick marathon,” I say with a shrug.
Beckoning her with my finger, I try to buy a little time before telling her what’s been robbing me of a decent night’s sleep for a
solid week now.
She lets her faithful sidekick outside before coming over to sit on my lap. “Now are you going to tell me what’s been bothering
you?”
“What gave me away?” I ask her with a chuckle as she nuzzles her cheek against my rough beard.
“You think I don’t know my grumpy old man by now?” she answers, looking up at me with a nervous smile marring her face.
“Are you having second thoughts about adopting Joe?”
“You know me better than I know myself most days, and I am proud to offer Joe my name,” I tell her. “It’s about Molly.”
She tilts her head as she waits for me to spit out the words I was rehearsing all night.
“You know that picture that Mack had swiped from her shop? He took it because he recognized her mom.”
Until now, there’s never been a moment I had a hard time meeting her gaze. When she clicks her tongue against the roof of her
mouth, I realize that I’ve left her hanging.
“Did you know her?” she quietly asks me.
“I think I did. I mean, yes. But I’ve told you what I was like, after my dad was killed and my ex left.” I don’t want to rehash an
old confession. Bree has heard about it before and shrugged it off as my dark period. And it truly was. “She went by Max. One
of the guys brought her back from somewhere along the way, and she stayed for a while.”
My mouth feels unnaturally dry, so I look over to my glass of water. Unfortunately, there’s barely a few drops left.
“Are you telling me…? Oh God.” Bree can’t get the words out either. Instead, she takes my hand and holds it over her heart,
which is beating at a million miles an hour.
“I don’t know. Mack and Roy are—um, possible candidates also. I mean, possible fathers. They, um, we were all with Max.
And I, for one, wasn’t always coherent enough to be careful.”
With all the shit I’ve told Bree about my life, that was the single hardest sentence I’ve ever uttered.
“Flint?” she softly says my name before reaching up to wipe at the corner of my eye. When she pulls her hand back, I see the
moisture that she collected, shining on her fingertip and a wave of self-loathing hits me.
My past is coming back to bite me in the ass.
“I love you, doll. I love you so much, and this is the last thing…”
“We’ve always known we couldn’t rewrite our pasts, Flint. We just move forward,” she tells me, before leaning in to snuggle
against my chest.
I open my mouth, but quickly shut it. As well as she knows me, I know that Bree needs a moment to process this. Out in the
yard, Ragnar catches my eye as he tracks the scent of some animal that I’m sure is long gone, and I let out a deep breath before
tightening an arm around his momma, while keeping my other hand over her heart.
For me, that’s the hardest part about this situation. Knowing the heartbreak Bree felt when she couldn’t have children—granted
that was before I knew her—to how excited she’s been about the prospect of adopting Joe.
The last thing I would ever want to do is hurt Bree, but if it turns out that Molly is a child I accidently fathered, I pray that Bree
can open her heart a little more.
I find comfort in just holding her, and feeling her heartbeat start to normalize, relaxes my own.
Another random document with
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 Polychaeta, 256, 276
Volvox, Rotifers in, 227
Vortex, 44;
British species, 50;
body-cavity, 43
Vorticellids, on Polychaeta, 299
Vorticeros, British species, 45, 46, 50
Vorticidae, 50
Vuillemin (misprinted in text), on Nematodes in deserts, 156

Walford, on Polyzoa, 521

Ward, on Nectonema, 168;
on Sipunculus, 417
Warning colours, in Polychaeta, 294, 314
Waters, on Polyzoa, 517
Wheeler, on Myzostomaria, 344
Whelk, shell occupied by Nereis, 298
White Cat, 317
Whitman, on Dicyemidae, 94;
on Hirudinea, 395 f., 402, 405 f.
Willemoes-Suhm, von, on Tetrastemma agricola, 101, 115, 117,
118
Willey, on affinities of Nemertinea, 120 n.;
on Oligochaeta, 382
Wings, of Chaetopterus, 295, 324
Winter-eggs, of Mesostoma, 48;
of Rotifers, 217;
compared with statoblasts, 493
Woodworth, on yolk-glands, 38 n.
Wreath, in Rotifers, 200
Wright, on Phoronis, 450, 456

Yellow-cells, in Leptoplana, 13
Yolk-gland, in Planaria, 38, 39;
in Rhabdocoelida, 47;
in Temnocephala, 54;
in Polystomatidae, 57;
 in Calliobothrium, 75;
in Schistocephalus, 86;
in Rotifers, 199, 216
Yoruba Worm, 368, 387
Youatt, on Coenurus, 82
Yungia, 19, 25

Zebra, parasites of, 140

Zelinka, on Rotifers, 198, 215 n., 218, 219, 227, 229;
on Gastrotricha, 232
Zooecium, 466, 469, 474, 488, 523;
of Phylactolaemata, 495;
loss of zooecia, 481, (= calyces), 488;
primary, 506;
alterations with age, 522
Zone of budding, 279, 283
Zooid, sexual and asexual, 278 f.
Zoophytes, 465, 474
 END OF VOL. II

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NOTES
[1]

Hemprich and Ehrenberg, Symbolae physicae, Berlin, fol. 1831.

[2]
Τρῆμα, a hole; referring to the orifices of the suckers.

[3]

Mémoires pour servir à l'histoire d. Polypes d'eau douce, Leyden,

1744.

[4]

Die Parasiten des Menschen, 1879——. Engl. Transl. by W. E.

Hoyle, i. 1886.

[5]

Band 4, by M. Braun. (Mesozoa and Trematoda completed;

Cestoda in progress.)

[6]

Verm. terr. et fluv. ... succincta historia, 1773; Zool. Danica, 1777.

[7]

Observations on Planariae, Edinburgh, 1813.

[8]

M. Faraday, "On the Planariae," Medical Gazette, Feb. 1832; and

in Edinburgh New Philosoph. Journal, vol. xiv. 1833, pp. 183-189.

[9]

Nov. Act. Acad. Caes. Leop.-Carol. tom. xiii. 1827.

[10]

Ann. Sci. Nat. (Zool.) I. tom. xv. 1828.; ibid. tom. xxi. 1830.

[11]

Mém. Acad. St. Pétersbourg, 5th ser. tom. ii. 1832.

[12]
Die rhabdocoelen Turbellarien des Süsswassers. Jena 1848.

[13]

Monographie d. Turbellarien. I. Rhabdocoelida, 1882. Die Acoela,

Leipzig, 1892.

[14]

"Die Polycladen," Fauna u. Flora d. Golfes v. Neapel, Monogr. XI.

1884.

[15]

Phil. Trans. 1874, p. 105.

[16]

Since no food, but only the pharynx, passes through this "mouth,"
the term is unfortunate. Moreover the true mouth is the aperture
placing the stomach in communication with the pharynx (Fig. 5,
gm).

[17]

Ann. Sci. Nat. 1 sér. tom. xv. 1828, p. 146. "La Planaire trémellaire
... peut parcourir ... en faisant battre rapidement ses parties
latérales à la manière des larges nageoires des Raies."

[18]

Observations on Planariae. Edinburgh, 1813, p. 12.

[19]

"Zur Anat. u. Entwickl. einiger Seeplanarien v. St. Malo," Abh. K.

Gesellschaft d. Wiss. Göttingen, 1868.

[20]

The roof of the peripharyngeal chamber is hence known as the

"diaphragm."
[21]

See Brandt, Fauna u. Flora d. Golfes v. Neapel, Monogr. XIII.

1885, p. 65.

[22]

See p. 94.

[23]

Verhandlungen d. med. Gesellschaft zu Würzburg, iv. 1854, p.

223.

[24]

Enantia spinifera Grff. Mittheil. d. Naturwiss. Verein. f. Steiermark,

1889.

[25]

The sucker of Leptoplana tremellaris probably does not

correspond with that of the Cotylea.

[26]

Collingwood, Trans. Linn. Soc. 2 ser. vol. i. pt. 3, 1876, p. 83.

[27]

Von Stummer-Traunfels, Zeitschr. f. wiss. Zool. Bd. lx. 1895, p.

689.

[28]

Planocera pellucida Mertens, P. simrothi v. Grff., P. grubei Grff.,

Stylochoplana sargassicola Mertens, S. californica Woodworth,
Planctoplana challengeri Grff., all belonging to the Planoceridae.
See v. Graff, "Pelagische Polycladen," Zeitschrift f. wiss. Zoologie,
Bd. lv. 1892, p. 190.

[29]
Cambridge Natural History, vol. iii. p. 74.

[30]

Lang, "Polycladen," p. 629.

[31]

Wheeler, Journal of Morphology, vol. ix. part 2, 1894, p. 195.

[32]

Many Nudibranchiate Mollusca undergo this change of habitat.

See Garstang, Journal of the Marine Biological Assoc. n.s. i. No. 4,
1890, p. 447.

[33]

Chun, "Ctenophoren," Fauna u. Flora G. v. Neapel, Monogr. I.

1880, p. 180.

[34]

See Lang, "Polycladen," p. 607.

[35]

Lang, "Polycladen," Pl. 30, Fig. 8.

[36]

Kongl. Fysiograf. Sällskapets Handlingar, Bd. iv. Lund, 1892-93.

[37]

Whitman, Journal of Morphology, vol. iv. 1890, p. 361.

[38]

A full account of Polyclad development is contained in Lang's

"Polycladen," with references to the literature of the subject. Since
the date of that work (1884) the embryology of Ctenophora has
become better known, but, though the segmentation of the egg
and early stages of development are very similar in both cases,
the elaborate investigations of E. B. Wilson (Journ. Morphology,
vol. vi. p. 361) show that the segmentation of Polychaet worms is
again similar. The question of the affinities of the Polycladida is
also discussed by Lang ("Polycladen" p. 642 et seq.). The work of
the last decade has neither proved nor disproved his suggestion
that the Ctenophores and Polyclads have been derived from
common ancestors. On this subject the remarks made by
Hatschek (Lehrbuch d. Zoologie, p. 319) are some of the
weightiest that have appeared.

[39]

Hallez, Revue Biologique du Nord de la France, tom. ii. 1889-90.

[40]

Voigt, Zool. Anz. xv. p. 238.

[41]

Grube, Archiv f. Naturgeschichte, 38 Jahrg. Bd. i. 1872, p. 273.

[42]

Vejdovsky, Zeitschr. f. wiss. Zoologie, Bd. lx. 1895, p. 200.

[43]

Woodworth, Bulletin Mus. Comp. Zoology, Harvard, vol. xxi. No. 1,

1891.

[44]

Mitth. Zool. Stat. Neapel, 1882, p. 187.

[45]

Wheeler, Journal of Morphology, vol. ix. 1894, p. 167.

[46]
Dendy, Trans. Roy. Soc. Victoria 1890, p. 65; Id. Austral. Assoc.
Brisbane, 1895, "Presid. Add. to Sect. D," p. 15.

[47]

Darwin, Ann. and Mag. Nat. Hist. vol. xiv. 1844, p. 241.

[48]

Shipley, Proc. Camb. Phil. Soc. vol. vii. pt. 4, 1891 (with literature).

[49]

Trans. Roy. Soc. Victoria from 1889 onwards. Trans. New Zealand
Institute, 1894-95.

[50]

Moseley, Phil. Trans. 1874, p. 105; Id. Quart. Journ. Micr. Sci. vol.
xlvii. 1877, p. 273; Loman, Bijdrag tot d. Dierkunde, Aflev. 14,
1887, p. 71; Id. Zool. Ergeb. ein. Reise in Nieder-Ost-Indien, Hft. 1,
p. 131; Beddard, Zoogeography, 1895, p. 53.

[51]

Beobachtungen ü. Anat. u. Entwickel. an der Küste von

Normandie, 1863, p. 18.

[52]

Archiv f. Naturgeschichte, 57 Jahrg. Bd. i. Hft. 3, 1891, p. 308.

[53]

Dendy, Proc. Roy. Soc. Victoria, vol. iv. n.s. i. 1892.

[54]

Schmarda, Neue wirbellose Thiere, Leipzig, 1859, I. i. p. 30.

[55]

Abhandl. d. Naturf. Gesell. zu Halle, Bd. iv. 1857, p. 33.

[56]

Arb. Zool.-Zoot. Instit. Würzburg, Bd. v. 1882, p. 120.

[57]

Woodworth (loc. cit. p. 38) states that in Phagocata the yolk-glands

arise by proliferation from two parovaria, placed just in front of the
ordinary ovaries. Iijima, however (Zeitschr. f. wiss. Zool. Bd. xl.
1883, p. 454), regarded them as derivatives of the parenchyma.

[58]

The extensive literature on this subject is fairly completely

summarised by Voigt in Biol. Centralblatt, vol. xiv. Nos. 20, 21,
1894. Faraday's observations (cf. p. 6, note 8) have been
generally overlooked.

[59]

Archives d. Biologie, tom. xii. 1892, p. 437.

[60]

Mitth. Zool. Stat. Neapel, Bd. iii. 1882, p. 187.

[61]

Böhmig, Ergebnisse d. Plankton Expedition, Bd. ii. H. g. 1895.

[62]

von Graff, Die Acoela, Leipzig, 1892. Appendix.

[63]

The development of the Acoela has been worked out recently by

Mdlle. Pereyaslawzewa (Zapiski Novoross. Obshch. Odessa, 17
Bd. 1892) and Gardiner (Journal of Morphology, xi. No. 1, 1895, p.
155) with conflicting results. The former finds four endoderm cells,
which give rise to a larval intestine. The Acoela are for her,
Pseudacoela. Gardiner, on the other hand, finds no trace of an
endoderm at any stage of the development of Polychoerus
caudatus.

[64]

Tijdschr. Nederland. Dierk. Ver. Deel ii. 1875.

[65]

Von Graff, Monographie d. Turbellarien: I. Rhabdocoeliden, 1882.

Gamble, Quart. Journ. Microscop. Science, vol. xxxiv. 1893, p.
433.

[66]

Zeitschr. f. wiss. Zoologie, Bd. lx. 1895, p. 163.

[67]

See von Graffs Monographie, pl. ix.; and Jensen, Turbellaria ad

Litora Norvegiae, Bergen, 1878, pl. iv.

[68]

For the reproductive organs of Rhabdocoelida, consult von Graff,

Monographie, "Die Acoela"; and Böhmig, Zeitschr. f. wiss. Zool.
Bd. li. 1891, p. 167.

[69]

Untersuchungen ü. Platyhelminthen, Giessen, 1873, p. 101.

[70]

Compare the remarks on Trematodes, pp. 4-5.

[71]

Haswell, Monograph of the Temnocephaleae. Macleay Memorial

Volume. Mem. iii. 1893.

[72]
Braun, in Bronn's Klassen u. Ordn. d. Thierreichs, vol. iv. p. 407,
gives a valuable summary of our knowledge of this group. For
figures, see van Beneden and Hesse, Mémoires de l'Acad. roy. de
Belgique, tom. xxxiv. 1864, pp. 1-169. A valuable paper (with
synoptic tables) on Japanese Monogenea, by Goto, Journ. Coll.
Sci. Japan, vol. viii. pt. 1, 1894, has recently appeared.

[73]

See Leuckart, "Parasiten" Bd. ii. p. 238.

[74]

Zeller, Zeitschr. f. wiss. Zool. xxii. 1872, pp. 1, 168; also Bd. xxvii.
1876, p. 238; xlvi. 1888, p. 233.

[75]

An excellent and beautifully illustrated account, by Looss, of the

Distomatidae of Frogs and Fishes may be found in Leuckart and
Chun's Bibliotheca Zoologica, Heft 16, 1894.

[76]

Leuckart, Parasiten d. Menschen, "Trematoden," 1892-94; R.

Blanchard, Traité d. Zool. médicale, i. 1889; H. B. Ward, Report for
1894 of Nebraska State Board of Agric. Lincoln, U.S.A. 1895, p.
225.

[77]

Huxley, Anat. of Invert. Animals, 1877, p. 194.

[78]

Braun, Bronn's Thierreichs, Bd. iv. p. 792; Leuckart, Parasiten d.

Menschen, 11 Abth. p. 158; Brandes, in Spengels Zool. Jahrb.
Syst. Abtheil. Bd. v. 1890, p. 849; v. Nordmann, Mikr. Beitr. i.
Berlin, 1832.

[79]
Heckert, Bibliotheca Zoologica (Leuckart and Chun), Heft 4, 1889.
I am not aware that Leucochloridium has been noticed in England.

[80]

"Heterogamy" usually means the alternation of bisexual and

unisexual generations (e.g. Rhabdonema nigrovenosum), but is,
unfortunately, also used in the sense of Alloiogenesis, as defined
above. See Grobben, Arbeit. Zool. zoot. Ints. Wien, Bd. iv. 1881, p.
201.

[81]

Parasiten, Bd. i. Abth. II. p. 152.

[82]

Festschrift f. Leuckart, Leipzig, 1892, p. 167.

[83]

Quart. Journ. Micros. Sci. vol. xxiii. 1883, p. 90.

[84]

The intermediate host in the Sandwich Islands is said to be

Limnaea peregra. See Lutz, Centralbl. f. Bakter. xi. 1892, p. 783.

[85]

The mortality in wet years, however, is said to be largely due to

pulmonary inflammation. This and other causes of death are not
always discriminated in the returns.

[86]

See Thomas, Quart. Journ. Micros. Science, xxiii. 1883. Neumann,

Parasites of Domesticated Animals, translated by Fleming, 1892.

[87]
Leuckart, loc. cit.; Looss, Archiv f. mikroskop. Anatomie, Bd. xlvi.
1895, p. 1.

[88]

In Leuckart, Die Parasiten d. Menschen, pp. 521-528, 1894.

[89]

Cf. p. 89.

[90]

See Braun. Bronn's Klassen u. Ordnungen d. Thierreichs, vol. iv.

p. 572.

[91]

Braun, loc. cit. p. 573.

[92]

Taken largely from Braun, Ibid. pp. 864-866, where the literature of
the subject is referred to fully.

[93]

Festschr. f. Leuckart, 1892, p. 134.

[94]

Cf. p. 5.

[95]

Arbeit. Inst. Wien, iii. 1881, p. 163; see also ibid. ix. 1890, p. 57.

[96]

For figures of various scolices see van Beneden, Mémoire sur les
vers Intestinaux, 1861; Braun in Bronn's Thierreich, Cestoda (in
progress), Bd. iv. Pl. xxxviii.-xlv.
[97]

The mature proglottis of Calliobothrium eschrichti is 8-9 mm. long,

whereas the strobila only measures 4-5 mm. in length. Species of
Phylliobothrium, Anthobothrium, and Tetrarhynchus show a similar
but not an equal contrast between the size of the parent and
proglottis (P. J. van Beneden, "Les Vers Cestoides," Nouv. Mém.
de l'Acad. Roy. d. Belgique, tom. xxv. 1850).

[98]

The difficult question of the nature of the Cestode body and

Cestode larvae is adequately discussed by Braun, loc. cit. p. 1167.

[99]

Leuckart, Die Parasiten d. Menschen [English trans. by W. E.

Hoyle]; Blanchard, Traité de Zoologie médicale, 1893.

[100]

For a full account of the history of this subject see Leuckart,

Parasiten d. Menschen, p. 28; Braun, loc. cit. Bd. iv. p. 929 et seq.;
Huxley, Collected Essays, vol. viii. p. 229.

[101]

By Grassi this form is considered identical with T. murina. The

latter species is known, from this author's researches, to develop
in rats without migration into an intermediate host. Should Grassi's
synonymy prove correct, the presence of large numbers of this
tape-worm in man would readily receive its explanation.

[102]

Leuckart, loc. cit. p. 752 et seq.

[103]

The distinctive features of these and the foregoing tape-worms are

given on pp. 89-90