Page 22 of Exile & Lula

“Aw, look at you playing the tender-hearted bastard,” Pax snarled before winking at Lula. “Let me ask you the real question here. What’s with the fucking hat?”

“Before my mom died, she bought me a hat like this one and called me her little cowboy. I guess I keep wearing them to honor her.”

Cocking an eyebrow, Pax seemed to smell through my bullshit. “Is that a real story?”

“It has real elements to it, yeah.”

Pax’s pale blue eyes gave me a once-over, and he nodded. “You’re the Black Rainbow VP, right? Did I kick your ass back in the day?”

“That was before my time with the club.”

“Well, good. I don’t want any hard feelings between us while you make nice with my firstborn.”

Still on the couch, Lula scooped up the little dog and watched her dad give me the business. When Pax decided to back off, she smiled like a daddy’s girl proud of his restraint.

I stood in the middle of the family room, watching the three Reed family members eye me.

“You’re the one who saved my mom?” Dillon asked me.

“My club did, yeah.”

“Are those men still alive?”

Pax answered for me. “They all died of tragic accidents. Nothing to worry about, kid.”

Dillon frowned at Pax and Lula before focusing back on me. “Will they come here?”

“Those men are dead,” I told Dillon. “They’re just ash now.”

The little girl nodded, seeming to believe me. Sighing, she looked at Lula. “Can I go to my room?”

Lula nodded and watched her daughter leave. Her gaze flashed to Pax, who was texting. Her face lit up with a smile.

“He’s calling in backup,” Lula warned when her gaze found me. “Come finish your beer before they arrive.”

Once Dillon went to her room and Pax walked out front, I returned to my spot and took in the view of Lula with her black-and-white Chihuahua curled up in her lap.

“I heard a rumor your president has one of those little dogs,” I said, smirking at the thought.

“Clint and the Crimson Guard found several litters at a farm. A bunch of club members claimed puppies. This here is Xena. She’s a tiny badass.”

“Is she now?”

“We were at a park once, and a local shithead tried hassling me for helping his abused wife. Xena saw me in danger and began barking and running around his feet. The guy ended up tripping on her, giving me the upper hand. She’s a tiny hero.”

The dog stared at me with its big eyes. “Normally, I wouldn’t respect such a small, rat-looking dog,” I said, winning a pursed lip, annoyed frown from Lula. “But seeing that she’s a hero dog, how can I not respect her?”

“You’re a smart cowboy,” Lula murmured and kissed the dog’s head. “Do you have any pets?”

“My sister wanted an attack dog to protect her and the girls when I was away from home. She kept going to the shelter, looking for the meanest, scariest dog she could find. Then, one day, she brought the girls along, and they came home with a spaniel mutt that can’t even scare the birds out of our yard.”

Lula grinned. “What’s the dog’s name?”

“The girls named him Ramen because the fur on his ears have a sort of noodle look, and they were eating a lot of ramen back then,” I said and eyed her tiny dog. “My sister gets into moods. I’ll wake up to find her painting the living room or changing the backsplash in the kitchen. She will start cooking weird meals or try to pick up a new language.”

“That’s good, though, right? She’s expanding her horizons rather than getting stagnant.”

“I think she does that stuff rather than deal with what’s bothering her.”