Tears shimmered in her eyes. “Oh God, honey. You and Stephanie have to come by for dinner tomorrow or whenever you have time.”
He nodded. “We will. But, I’m gonna try to get Ben to come ’round.”
She cupped his cheek. “Don’t you worry about that, Michael. I’m just thrilled you’re gonna settle down and your sister is back. I love you kids, and I hated knowing there was something between you.”
A sly grin curled his lips. “Your new boyfriend doesn’t have anything to do with being thrilled?”
Her cheeks turned pink. “Michael David! Have respect for your mother.”
He chuckled. “Got plenty of respect for you, Mom. I’d love to stick around, but I gotta get home.”
She kissed his cheek. “I’m sure you do. I love you, and I’m dying to see her ring!”
He mounted his bike grinning. It had been a damn long time since he’d made his mother so happy. God willing and with Stephanie’s help, it would only be the first of many more to come.
RATHER THAN WALK IN through the garage, Har parked his bike in the drive and entered through the front door. This meant Stephanie didn’t hear him come in, and he shook his head when he saw her loading the washer with laundry. He tip-toed to the kitchen and pulled the bottle of champagne from the back of the refrigerator. He didn’t lie when he said he wasn’t big on romance, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to try.
He just wanted her to think he wouldn’t.
He’d hidden a bucket under the island, which he retrieved. Before he forgot, he grabbed the strawberries from the fridge and set them next to the bucket.
He leaned into the hallway leading to their bedroom. “I’m home, Steph!”
The bed creaked and he knew she was on her way to greet him, so he quickly put the champagne in the bucket and loaded ice around it.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
He turned his head just enough to shoot her a smirk. “Being as romantic as I’ll ever be, baby. You may not dig your proposal, but I got champagne, strawberries, and a determination to give you at least four orgasms tonight.”
Her expression turned shrewd. “You think you can do that?”
He chuckled and put the bucket on the island. “Baby, I know I can do that and more.”
Her brows arched. “‘And more?’”
He grinned. “Yep. And more, like practice making a baby with you.”
She smiled. “The baby carriage comes after marriage, Michael. Let’s stick to that, ’kay?”
He twisted his head as he smiled. “Whatever you say, Miss Priss.”
Her eyes twinkled. “Then, I say it’s time for strawberries, champagne, and my biker fiancé.”
The Riot MC Biloxi Series will continue with Brute’s Strength...
The story of Brute and Kenzie
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Sneak Peek at Brute's Strength
Chapter 1Number. Now.Kenzie
WOULD IT MAKE ME ONE of those women if I asked for a manager of my lunch date app?
I shook my head at my foolishness. It didn’t matter. What mattered was that I had wasted another lunch hour trying to ‘put myself out there.’ Being stood up stunk to high heaven, but I had to look at the bright side. At least I hadn’t paid for a babysitter, only to be stood up. That would definitely turn me into the woman who hunted down managers and got in someone’s face.
The bartender arrived with my basket of food. I thanked him, salted my fries, and glanced over my shoulder. Once it was clear my so-called date wouldn’t make it, I noticed two men and a woman eating lunch in the back corner. The man who caught my eye was clearly the third wheel. That surprised me, which meant it intrigued me. Greatly.
He was everything my ex-husband was not. Even from across the room, I could see he was bulky with muscle, rough around the edges, and he moved with sheer power. Bonus, his laugh was loud and sincere.
His dark hair looked like he styled it, but something told me he didn’t. It stood up like each follicle was a soldier standing at attention, ready to battle whatever the day brought. His dark eyes scanned the room regularly, which was why I could only peek at him over my shoulder surreptitiously.
Yeah. A guy like him wouldn’t know lunch date apps existed. His phone might explode if he tried to download the app.
I faced forward and bit into my chicken sandwich. A few moments later, the bartender executed an exaggerated chin lift and then my brawny, dark-haired man sauntered out to the concourse. That allowed me a good look at his derriere and the back of his leather vest. It featured three patches. The first read, “Riot MC.” The second and most prominent patch was a fist upon which perched a skull with wings off to the side where the fist and skull met. It was pretty damn cool as biker patches went, not that I’d seen many of them. The last one read “Biloxi, MS.”
I would never catch the eye of a tough guy like him. Though I wished I could.
As my eyes trailed him turning left out of the restaurant, I wondered if that was the last I would see of him or if he was headed to the restrooms.
The bar and grill I was at happened to be inside a casino, and rather than have restrooms inside a restaurant, they were always located outside. A not-so-subtle way of encouraging people to get back to the business of gambling their money away. Maybe that was why I kept getting stood up. The location was uber-public, and I knew casinos had security cameras everywhere,
