Page 11 of Property of Stone (Kings of Anarchy MC: Pennsylvania #1)

She could picture Stone kicking back on the deck with a beer in hand and eyes on his daughter while she swam.

“Let me show you inside so you know what you’re gonna need to bring from your place.”

Probably not much except for some personal items and clothes for her and Wren. And, of course, the stuff needed to do her job as a personal chef.

Being able to bank her earnings while living rent- or mortgage-free would also be a benefit of moving in with Stone temporarily.

She’d be able to afford more therapy for Wren, if it was needed, as well as not having to rush to find a new home. She could take her time and find the right place.

When he headed through the gate, she followed. “When did you buy this house?”

Stone held open the screen door with his boot while he unlocked the door leading into the house.

“Few years ago. Bought it for my mother when she was sick. Wanted her close. And despite the house bein’ old, it’s got good bones.

Thought about sellin’ it after she died, but never thought I’d have Sunny full-time.

Now I do, got no choice but to keep it unless I wanna buy a bigger place. ”

“I’m sorry about your loss,” she murmured, crossing the threshold behind him.

The back door led into a tiny entryway. When they headed to their right, they entered the kitchen. Stone might be comfortable on a Harley, but she always felt at home in a kitchen.

Cooking was her passion. She was lucky she could turn it into a career.

Fortunately, the appliances had all been updated more recently. Despite that, the cabinets most likely hadn’t been touched since the seventies, except maybe for adding another coat of lime-green paint. Neither had the curtains. Or the decor.

“The kitchen’s bigger than I expected.” It might not be as huge and modern as a newer home, but it was functional.

“Mom couldn’t do the steps toward the end so I moved her into the livin’ room. Blew out the fuckin’ wall between the kitchen and dinin’ room to make it bigger and added another full bathroom downstairs. Before that, the house only had one bathroom up on the second floor.”

That made sense. It was also very practical to expand the kitchen, since most people—unless they had huge families—didn’t use a dining room very often. It tended to be wasted space.

She stayed on his heels as he made his way through the kitchen and past the full bathroom located at the front of the house. He hooked a left toward the front door, where the staircase to the second story was.

If she was standing out on the covered front porch looking at the house, the kitchen and bathroom took up the left side and the living room took up the right. That meant that there were only three rooms on the main floor. That might be tight for four people.

He tipped his head toward the stairs. “Gonna show you the rooms, then we can decide the sleepin’ arrangements.”

“I already know I won’t be sharing your bed.”

With a snort, he shook his head and headed upstairs.

At the top of the steps, she realized there were only three rooms up there, too. To the right of the stairway was a bedroom easily recognizable as belonging to his daughter. Not only because of how it was appropriately decorated for a ten-year-old girl but because of the bunk beds.

“You weren’t lying about the bunk beds. She already has one. ”

“Yeah. Hate ‘em ‘cause they remind me of whenever I’m in the joint, but got it in case one of her friends wants to spend the night.”

Taryn stood in the center of the room, slowly turning in a circle to take it all in.

It might be tight for two kids, but it could work temporarily.

Sunny might hate sharing her room but Wren would probably love it.

In the past, he had bugged her for a sibling.

Maybe this would get it out of his system and he’d never ask again.

She could hope, anyway.

“Does that happen often?” If she had a lot of sleepovers, she’d need to find other accommodations for her son during those times. Taryn doubted the girls would want Wren to join them.

“Never.”

She spun to face him, only to find him with one hand glued to his hip as he stared out the window. “She’s never had friends over?”

He turned, his expression a blank mask. “Some of my brothers’ nut nuggets will come swim but none of the asshole parents from her school will let their kids come over.”

Nut nuggets? She never heard that crass term used for children. Rugrats, yes. Nut nuggets, no.

“Why not?”

He tugged on his cut.

Oh.

But wait… “Because you belong to a club?”

“Ain’t just any club.”

“Do you want to explain that? I thought it was a group of people who all owned motorcycles.”

“Not people. Men. Not any fuckin’ motorcycle, Harleys,” he corrected .

“Okay, the members all ride Harleys.” And, apparently, were all men.

“It’s a brotherhood. Ridin’ ain’t a hobby, it’s a lifestyle.”

“It still doesn’t explain why parents wouldn’t want their children hanging out with yours.” Alarm bells went off in her head. She was missing something here. Maybe something very important.

She stared at him. His countless tattoos. His leather cut. The way he beat down Vic. The women at their clubhouse. It was not a typical lifestyle but…

“How many of your club members have been arrested before?”

His nostrils flared as he considered her question. “Does it matter?”

“It could. How many?”

“All of ‘em.”

All of them? “Is that a requirement to join your brotherhood?”

“No.”

Her eyes flicked to the yellow diamond patch on his cut.

“What does that yellow diamond mean?”

“Means we live by our own damn rules.”