Page 35 of Carver (Satan’s Angels MC #8)

Carver

W e’re both still riding the high of the birthday party as we arrive home.

We thought we’d be the last to leave, staying late to clean up and pack up, but I should have foreseen all the help that we’d have.

A few people who had kids needed to leave early to get to bed or take them out trick or treating before the night was over, but the majority stayed right until the end.

Tyrant and Raiden were among those who helped package up and distribute all the leftovers, who helped fill Bronte’s truck with all the gifts to take home, and cleaned up the kitchen and put away tables and chairs until the hall was spotless.

It wasn’t just Tyrant and Raiden, but when the Prez and the VP of a biker club are happy to mop up, do dishes, and package up food, it’s inspiring.

They could have ordered someone else to do it, but they didn’t.

To make up for their earlier prank, Decay and Grave both stayed late and worked extra hard at scrubbing up and doing the grunt work of folding up all the tables and stacking all the chairs.

When that firecracker went off in the kitchen, Tyrant and Raiden both turned and looked directly at me.

I think if I would have been more upset, there would have been more heated words with the twins, but after I got over the jump scare that nearly had my heart pounding out of my chest, I was more concerned with how Kael would react, given that she’d custom ordered the three-tier cake.

It looked like something fit for a wedding, and I can’t imagine how much it cost.

I know she was still pissed at the end of the night. Dravin kept sending her worried looks, but she didn’t let anything slip.

I’m sure that he’s getting an earful right now, about how the twins should be muzzled.

I tried to talk to her, in my awkward way, and let her know how beautiful the cake was, and how sorry I was that it ended up all over the walls and countertops in the kitchen, and all over us.

She just shrugged and told me it wasn’t my fault, all while looking murderous and close to tears.

“That was such a fun night.” Bronte’s voice drifts over from behind a stack of boxes and bags, all of Elowen’s gifts that she’s piled into her arms from the back of the truck.

I have a few boxes under my arm, and I unlock the door and hold it open for her.

“We can probably just set everything down on the table until we go through it and put it all away.”

It takes a few trips, but soon the truck is empty, and the table is groaning under the weight of all those toys, clothes, and massive boxes. Someone got her a collapsible wagon, and even though we set the box down beside the table and not on top, it’s still a mountain.

“Everyone was too generous,” Bronte sighs, but she’s smiling as she locks up the back door.

“I have no idea where we’re going to put it all, but we’ll find room.

A few things could go to my parents’ house, so when we’re there, I don’t have to lug it all back and forth with me.

When they drop Elowen off tomorrow morning, I can send some with them. ”

When Bronte’s parents asked if they could take Ellie overnight, she was pretty reluctant about it, but they just left the idea with her and she agreed, knowing just how much they’ve all missed having her and Ellie at home.

“They’re going to be okay, right? I’m worried that Ellie’s going to be overstimulated after tonight. What if she won’t sleep?”

“The hotel is only fifteen minutes away. I’m sure if anything happens, your parents will call you.”

Bronte glances at the table we just stacked full and instead of wrangling out a chair and causing an avalanche, she hoists herself up on the counter by the sink. “I’m being silly. My parents raised the three of us through sickness, broken, bones, and tons of sleepless nights.”

“You’re a mom. It’s okay to worry.”

“Are you worried?”

“Worried isn’t the right word.” I grab a glass from the cupboard and fill it with water.

I down half in a few gulps and pass the rest to Bronte.

She drinks the rest just about as fast as I did.

She looks at me and does a slow blink, then bursts out laughing.

I realize I must look like I’ve just run a marathon.

I shake my head in disbelief and say, “I never knew birthday parties could be so hard. I barely had to do anything, and I’m still exhausted. ”

“Did you have a good time?” she asks. “It wasn’t too much?”

“I didn’t have an introvert meltdown, so it must have been okay. Even with what happened with the cake.”

“I knew it was a firecracker the second I heard it, but that must have been so unnerving being right next to it.”

“It wasn’t pleasant. For just a minute, I thought Dravin was going to take a swing at one of the twins because he just knew that Kael was going to be devastated that they wrecked her cake.”

“I’m glad that didn’t happen.” Bronte’s face pinches. She runs her finger over the rim of the empty glass before she sets it aside and clutches her hands in her lap. “My sister got Grave’s phone number.”

“What?”

“Yeah.” Her hand shoots out and lands on my arm as I stiffen, offering comfort, but also seeking it.

“I made it clear what I thought, but being a protective big sister only goes so far before it crosses the line. I told her to be careful without using those words and said a whole lot of nope, but ultimately, it’s up to her. ”

“I could ask Dravin to tell Tyrant to have a chat with him and warn him off.”

She hesitates, chewing on the inside of her cheek. Her hand tightens on my arm. “I don’t know if we should do that. Ginny would be mad if she found out. I have to say, it would be hypocritical of me to tell her that she can’t date someone from the club when we’re sort of a part of it.”

“It’s not the same. He’s a full patched in member. And an asshole who blows up a one-year-old’s birthday cake.”

“I know he’s immature. He clearly earned the reputation he has with his brother. I’m not even sure what they do at the club, and he’s clearly an obnoxious overgrown child in love with his bike, truck, and himself.”

“So why can’t I tell Dravin to put a stop to this before it starts?”

“Because.” She exhales in a hard puff of air. “People change. Even if they don’t, Ginny is an adult. She has my parents and my brother to protect her as well as me. We’ve all got her back. I don’t think anyone from the club would ever intentionally hurt a woman. Isn’t that against the rules?”

“Did Kael tell you that?”

“Yeah. That they don’t have many hard and fast rules, but the no hard drugs and the treat all women like goddesses are a few they adhere to.”

“You can treat a woman well and still be a prick.” She winces, which makes me wince. “Okay. I get why you really can’t say anything.”

“No.” She strokes her hand down my arm soothingly. “This has nothing to do with you. My family stood by me. They trusted that I knew my own mind. We all just want to protect Ginny because she’s the baby of the family, but I can see how that would get so tiring for her.”

“But Grave?”

“Maybe she’ll lose the number, intentionally or unintentionally.”

“Did she memorize it?”

“I think so.”

“We’re fucked then.” Her sister’s memory is legendary.

“Well…” She tries to force a smile. “She knows what she’s doing. Ginny’s a farm girl through and through. She wants to build a house on my parents’ land and keep farming and doing the markets with my mom. Grave is a patched in member of this club, as you said. That means that he has to be in Hart.”

“Dravin said that if someone wants out, they’re free to leave. It’s not the kind of club where once you patch in, they go looking for you if you want out and then you disappear. It’s not a prison sentence or a life sentence. Each person is part of the club and part of the family by choice.”

I hate when Bronte frowns, especially the way she’s doing now. It’s tinged with guilt, and I have no idea what or. She’s done nothing wrong. She takes on so much. She opens her mouth to say something, but closes it. Her eyes track to the table.

“I’ve never had champagne before. We could try it.”

I don’t know who gave us the bottle. Most of the gifts didn’t have a tag at all. It was an odd gift, but it was clearly meant for us, since it was in the pile and wrapped very nicely in a gold bag.

“Not that I think drinking solves any problems and I definitely am not going to get drunk just because we don’t have Ellie with us tonight.

I…” Bronte bows her head, a crimson stain spreading from the lace over her collarbones, all the way up her neck.

“I’ve had this fantasy about spilling something all over you and licking it off.

That’s how I’d like to try the champagne. ”

“Look at me, Bronte.”

Her eyes flick up, but uncertainty flickers there. Does she think that I’ll shut her down, this woman who deserves the entire world. “You don’t have to be ashamed to tell me what you’d like to try.”

“What if you think it’s weird?”

“I can think it’s weird and still want to do it with you because you want it.”

You’d think I just gift wrapped the universe and handed it to her, the way she smiles. She hops off the counter and grabs the gold gift bag with the gold foil wrapped bottle. We peeled the wrapping back just enough to see what it was, but the shape of the package definitely gives it away.

“You know, it’s kind of… wild that we’ve never had sex in a bed,” she says breathlessly. “Most people are all adventurous and want to do it in every other place, but for us, we never have. That’s our adventure.”

“It’s a little bit terrifying.”