Page 10 of Kingston (Angels Halo MC Next Gen #14)

Chapter Ten

Demi

Kingston Everett Hannigan was overwhelming.

From his smile, to how gentle the giant biker was with my daughter, to how he waited for me to put my hand in his before touching me.

It was too much for my heart to take. At times, I couldn’t catch my breath when I looked at him.

I was more afraid that this was all a dream, and I was going to wake up in the back of my car, cold and alone with Iris bleeding from her ears, than I was of coming face-to-face with Charlie ever again.

Which was the most terrifying scenario that could possibly happen to me.

Charlie and his family could kill me, leave me in the middle of the street, and walk away without a single person in the world to stop them.

It wasn’t a matter of could ; the law didn’t matter when it came to the politician’s son.

No one would touch the powerful Johnson family.

Not the local authorities when I’d been beaten to the brink of death.

Not even the Feds, when I’d tried to ask for help and offered to testify about some of the sketchy things I’d seen while living in their house.

That had been a last-ditch idea that had finally sent me running with Iris at the threat of having my baby being raised by those monsters.

Kingston scooped up a bite of the sundae he’d made for Iris personally, making sure it was the perfect bite of ice cream, sprinkles, fudge, and whipped cream before stretching his arm across the table.

I dipped my head forward, accepting the offered treat.

He thought he was so sneaky, feeding me every few minutes from his own plate and then slipping me a little of the huge dessert he’d made for a three-year-old.

I hadn’t been hungry when we first arrived.

It was hard to think about eating when I needed to figure out how I was going to cover the cost of the treatment my child needed to avoid potentially losing her ability to hear.

That kind of stress made me nauseated. Despite my only ordering a side salad—at Quinn’s insistence—he’d been feeding me fries from his own plate.

Or slipping pieces of his chicken tenders into my salad while his mom distracted me with her happy chatter.

Or telling Iris to offer me bites of her mac and cheese so I knew how good it was.

“It’s yummy. Right, Mommy?” Iris asked as she watched me lick the cream from my lips when Kingston pulled the spoon back.

Her face was covered with chocolate sauce, cheese, and ketchup, but she hadn’t complained about her ears hurting since we’d left the doctor’s office earlier.

She’d laughed more in the past half hour than she’d done in the last week.

Damn it, she’d been happier in the last twenty-four hours than she’d been in her entire life.

And fuck, but same.

Considering the fear I’d experienced over Iris having a bleeding ear, terrified she was going to lose her hearing, then going home with a man who could have easily filed charges on me for assault and destruction of property, that didn’t say much for my mental stability.

I was stressed more than ever, worried sick about how I was going to get Iris the medical treatments she needed, still homeless, and yet I felt truly safe and more content for the first time… ever.

I was starting to wonder if Charlie had caused me brain damage with that last beating he’d given me. Maybe it had simply taken three years before it fully set in.

But I couldn’t blame my ex for the bizarre choices I’d made since seeing Kingston in the ER waiting room. That motherfucker didn’t get to take any credit for the best thing to happen to me since my baby was placed in my arms.

Quinn used her napkin to wipe her mouth after taking the last bite of her own salad and turned so she was facing me on our side of the booth.

“Does this mean you’ll be supplying us with morning pastries again?

I have at least a dozen customers who keep begging me to put them back on the breakfast menu.

And I’m not even exaggerating when I say that Elias Reid drops by every morning looking hopeful for his muffin fix. He might have a slight addiction.”

Embarrassed heat climbed my neck, memories of the last time I’d brought her a batch of muffins replaying in my mind. “I truly am sorry for what happened the last time I was here. I’m so ashamed of myself for how I behaved.”

“Don’t be,” she dismissed with a melodic laugh. “You have great aim, by the way. It was a little satisfying seeing you put my son in his place. I think you may have even knocked some sense into his thick head.”

Kingston grunted. “Let’s pretend that never happened.”

“If anyone should apologize, it would be Kingston. He’s kind of an a-hole at times.

” Quinn picked up her glass of Diet Coke, and I choked back a laugh of my own, remembering what River had said earlier that morning about her cousin’s name normally only being in the same sentence with the word “kind” when someone was calling him an asshole.

His green eyes captured mine, and he winked. But then he surprised me by placing his right hand over his heart. “From the bottom of my heart, I apologize for what I said that morning, baby.”

While my heart turned to a squishy, melted mess in my chest, Quinn’s jaw dropped. “Holy cow. I didn’t think he was capable of saying sorry to anyone but me and maybe five other people. Interesting. Very, very interesting.”

“You’re exaggerating, Ma.”

“You’re right. Five was being generous. It’s more like three, and that’s including me.”

“Mom,” he growled. “You’re making me look bad to Demi.”

“Oh please, she already saw how rude you’re capable of being. But now, I actually can increase the number of people you’re nice to. With Demi and Iris added to the list, five is no longer an inflation.” He rolled his eyes at her, and she smirked at her son.

But she stopped teasing him and returned to her original question.

“So, let’s discuss the muffin situation.

I’m confident if I place a sign on the door that you’re going to be resupplying us with all that baked goodness, I can sell twice as many products every day.

I’m willing to increase your percentage of the profits of the sales from fifty to seventy-five percent. What do you think? Do we have a deal?”

Twisting my fingers together in my lap, I considered her offer.

If I had a kitchen to cook in, I definitely would have already jumped at what she was suggesting.

But it was difficult to bake anything when my kitchen was the trunk of a run-down car that primarily stored the nonperishable foods I tried to stock up on for Iris.

I doubted Joy Lively’s family would accept me back as the old woman’s caregiver, and even as desperate as I was for a secure place to sleep, I didn’t think I could return to their house without doing that mean old witch bodily harm.

“I think that’s a great idea,” Kingston chimed in before I could turn his mother down. “We’ll stop at the grocery store on the way home to get everything you need. The only baking I do is the Death by Chocolate cake we have on the menu here.”

“Kingston,” I attempted to protest, but he put another spoonful of ice cream into my mouth, effectively shutting me up long enough to swallow the dessert while he continued talking to his mom.

“Which of the muffins sold out, Ma? We should keep the stock numbers high on those and a smaller amount of the others to keep the customers happy.”

“All of Demi’s muffins sold out every morning, no exceptions.

But the double-chocolate and the banana chocolate chip sold the fastest. The apple-cinnamon was a huge hit, and the blueberry streusel was normally the last one to go, but we would be completely out of everything before nine every day.

I’m thinking if we double the order, we could last the full breakfast crowd. ”

“That would definitely be a good idea,” he agreed. “But what if we start a muffin of the week? Something new every week for a while to get an idea of what else would sell? There are a few trends going around, and we could include some of them on our dessert menu for dinner.”

“Like cookie butter?” I suggested, intrigued by his idea, completely forgetting about the fact that I didn’t have a kitchen to bake in.

“I could do a cookie butter filling, then drizzle the top with melted cookie butter and add crushed Biscoff. Maybe even add a little white chocolate to give it a bit more decadence if it’s added to the dessert menu. ”

Quinn licked her lips. “My mouth is already watering at the thought. Now that’s all I’m going to think about until I get one.”

“I could make you a few tonight, just to test them out?” I murmured, making a mental shopping list and cringing at how expensive the materials would be.

“Well, maybe not tonight. How about later in the week?” After I’d made enough money to cover the costs for what I needed to create the new muffin option.

“She’s going to bring them tomorrow,” Kingston promised, and I shot him a startled look, already shaking my head.

“I think I should figure out the whole kitchen situation before I agree to extra items I’ve never made before. I don’t even have a recipe for a muffin like that, barely a general idea.” Panic caused my throat to tighten until my voice vanished completely.

Everything was finally starting to catch up to me.

Iris and her ears. How I was going to afford her medication and surgery.

Where we were going to sleep tonight should have been more of a concern to me than finding a kitchen I could use to bake muffins.

Yet it was what had my heart racing, sweat beading along my entire body, even as a chill started to make me shiver.

Kingston made a soothing noise and placed his hand palm-up on the table, wiggling his fingers.

Without thinking about it, I put mine on top, and he wrapped his fingers around mine in a gentle squeeze.

At first touch, some of my anxiety began to ease, my pulse lowering quickly, the warmth returning to my limbs without the risk of sweat soaking through my top.

Quinn’s gaze shot between her son and me, a smile teasing at her lips. “I’m going to let you two sort out whatever is going on here and get back to work.”

As she stood, Iris’s attention was pulled from where she was making a mess with her ice cream, her face losing the happy glow it had been radiating only moments before. “Gammy, don’t go.”

I was still reeling from how quickly things had moved from Kingston instructing my child to call Quinn “Grammy” to the older woman adopting that role in the blink of an eye.

That was an honorific I’d never expected Iris to give to anyone.

Not when my own mother abandoned me the moment she and my father realized producing a Johnson “heir” wasn’t going to net them the paycheck they were greedy to get their hands on.

There was no way I’d ever allow Iris to call Charlie’s mother “Grandma,” let alone something so adorable as “Gammy.”

And I was back to wondering if I had slow-onset brain damage from the beating I’d taken three years prior because I didn’t object to Iris calling Quinn Grammy or Gammy. My heart felt like it was going to dissolve with love every time Quinn even looked at my daughter with affection in her blue eyes.

“Grammy has work to do, sweet pea,” Quinn told her gently, reaching across the table to tap her playfully on the nose where she had a dollop of her beloved whipped cream. “But I’ll see you again really soon, okay?”

“Amma-row?” Iris asked, causing the other woman to grin.

“Definitely tomorrow,” she promised. “Kingston will bring you to Grammy’s house while your mommy is resting. I’m sure she will need a break after all that baking she’s going to be doing.”