Page 8 of The MC’s Surprise (Bikers and Babies #4)

Sierra

O nce he got over the shock, Vegas was a much more supportive partner in all this.

He held my hand during the blood tests after I admitted how much I hated needles.

He paid for everything. And while that still bugged me on some level, I knew I couldn’t refuse.

But I made a mental note to keep baby related expenses to a minimum.

If the baby was a girl, I would bet good money my mom had some of my old baby clothes.

There was nothing wrong with reusing them.

It wasn’t surprising that I was starving after the afternoon of appointments.

I was considering fast food, wondering if it was worth the dirty looks my mom would give me if she found out, when Vegas knocked on my window.

We were stopped at a notoriously long red light, and he’d walked his bike straight up to my window so we could talk.

“What are you doing next?” he asked over the sound of his bike.

I lifted a shoulder. “Food. I don’t know if you know this, but pregnant women eat a lot.”

There wasn’t a hint of judgment in his smirk.

I’d gotten a lot of comments before I left California about putting on a lot of weight.

Even Mama told me to watch it because it would be harder to lose once I had the baby.

Vegas didn’t seem to care. Then again, we weren’t in a relationship.

I needed to remember that. No matter how sweet he was holding my hand or opening doors for me, this wasn’t a relationship.

Hopefully, my hormones would get that in their heads.

“We’re having a cook-out at the clubhouse to introduce the new prospects. Want to meet my crew?”

I hesitated. “Wouldn’t that be weird?”

He made a face half hidden by his helmet. “You’re carrying my kid, Sierra. They’re going to know about you eventually.”

He said it with such confidence even though we hadn’t gotten the paternity test results yet.

Like he just accepted that what I told him was the truth, even without the test. It meant a lot, honestly.

I didn’t expect him to just take me at my word.

It wasn’t like we’d been in a committed relationship at the time.

It was just supposed to be fun. Something to take my mind off of another failure before I made enough money to start fresh.

But he saw me as a trustworthy person and was willing to introduce me to his friends without waiting for the test. It felt wrong to turn him down.

“Uh, okay. Sure. Lead the way?”

He nodded and flipped his visor down, moving in front of me right as the light turned green.

I followed him across town to where I knew the clubhouse was tucked away.

Everyone in town knew where it was. They actively avoided the area because the rumors were so negative about the crew that they were afraid to get close.

I never held much stock in those rumors, though.

I preferred to hold back judgment until I could meet them myself.

The clubhouse wasn’t really what I was expecting.

A nondescript brick building with a fence to keep out trespassers and a good amount of motorcycles parked out front.

I thought it’d at least be painted black or there would be remnants of parties, like beer bottles or broken glass outside.

It was nothing like that. Without the motorcycles, it would look like the rest of the buildings in town.

And when we went inside, it was a lot nicer.

A large staircase split the room, with a game room on the right and the living room on the left.

Vegas led me in that direction, lifting his chin in greeting to the bikers who were already there.

“Hey, Prez. Wanted you to meet someone,” he said in greeting to a tall man with ice blue eyes who stood off to the side talking to one of few men in the group without the club logo somewhere on their person.

Prez turned to face us, eyes taking me in for a moment.

I was prepared for him to say something rude, like the bikers I’d seen on tv, but something soft flashed across his face and when he joined us, his smile was warm.

“Prez, this is Sierra. Sierra, this is the president of the Dirty Devils, Wyatt Lawson. We call him Prez.”

Prez offered his hand, his handshake firm, but polite. “Nice to meet you, Sierra. You’ve come on a good day. The whole crew will be here. They’ll be excited to learn about the newest crew member.”

I raised an eyebrow at Vegas, who shrugged, an unrepentant grin on his face. “On Ellie’s first birthday, she got her own club jacket. Now it's just accepted that the kids are as much a part of the crew as the rest of us.”

Twisting my lips to hide my smile, I glanced at Prez. “So you’re just a bunch of big softies, huh?”

Prez didn’t look offended by my statement. He just smiled at me. “I’ve got a good crew. They’d take a bullet for those kids. And any one of them would be happy to volunteer to babysit if you ever need a break.”

Well, that was kind of nice. If I could find a job in town, that is. I hadn’t looked yet, but I remembered how hard it was to find the job working with Vegas last summer. It was slim pickings in a town this small.

“Come on, I’ll introduce you to my first lady.”

My eyebrows shot up as I followed him toward the kitchen. “Wait, that’s a real thing? I mean, I’ve read biker romance before, but I thought that was just creative license.”

Vegas snorted, giving me a look that said he had plenty of thoughts about my literary adventures. I refused to admit I started reading them after I met him. He sparked something in me.

“It’s real,” Prez said with a smile and a nod. “We’ve got a hierarchy, all clubs do, and as my partner, Maggie gets her own title.”

“All the old ladies have their own road names, too,” Vegas added. “Skylar is Mama Bear and Mel is Little Sister.”

Prez rolled his eyes. “Mel doesn’t need a club name.”

Something about the way he reacted made me curious. His expression was fond exasperation which made me think he butted heads with this Mel person a lot, but still accepted her as part of the crew.

“She’s Wraith’s old lady,” Vegas argued. “And your sister. She’s crew.”

“Damn right, I am,” a feminine voice agreed as we stepped into the kitchen. “But I still vote I need a better name.”

The kitchen was crowded with kids demanding snacks and parents trying to control the chaos.

Ages of the kids ranged from tiny infants to a preteen glued to their phone.

If I was worried about how the crew would react to another baby, I didn't need to.

They obviously had experience with all ages.

And not a sharp word from any of them, even when a little girl with big green eyes started wailing.

Vegas moved with the ease of practice as he scooped her up and started talking to her, soothing her before the tantrum could get its legs. She settled with his gentle attention and when he gave her a bowl of fruit he’d snatched from the counter, she beamed at him, like the tantrum never happened.

It was a little overwhelming, watching him be so soft with the little girl. It made my chest ache for something I knew I couldn’t have.

“Stupid hormones,” I grumbled, turning away to look anywhere else. I was not crying in front of all these people.

“They make your ovaries melt, don’t they?” another woman asked from nearby. She had a nose ring and a mom bun on her head, holding a baby in her arms.

I looked down at my belly, then back at her with a shrug. “A little late for that, I guess.”

She snickered, offering me her free hand after shifting the baby to one arm. “I’m Skylar. Butch’s old lady.”

“Sierra. Uh…” I wasn’t sure how Vegas wanted to tell his people. He seemed confident in introducing me, but I wasn’t sure what he was going to say.

“Hey, listen up,” he called out from closer to the table.

The kitchen got quieter as they all turned to look at him and the little girl still sitting on his arm.

“See that beautiful woman over there?” He pointed at me and my stomach dropped to my feet.

Oh crap, he really was jumping right in, wasn’t he?

“I just found out she’s carrying my kid.

I’m taking bets on the next Dirty Devil in the making.

Gender and birth date. Lemme know where you want your money. ”

My mouth fell open. Of all the things he could’ve started with, I wasn’t expecting that.

“Seriously? That’s how you’re going to tell people?” Mel demanded with a frown. “What’s wrong with you?”

He shrugged, that familiar smirk flashing across his face. “I’m the best gambler in the house, Little Sister. What’d you expect?”

Skylar shook her head as they bickered, heaving an exasperated sigh. “Sorry. I might have guessed that’s what he’d choose to focus on. But congratulations. When are you due?”

“Um, they’re thinking last week of February?”

It was the first time someone asked me about my pregnancy so casually, and it still felt a little weird.

Skylar didn’t seem to notice and pursed her lips thoughtfully.

“With my first, I was two weeks early. He was and still is in a rush to experience life. My second was right on schedule. It surprised me how much that seemed to reflect on their personalities.”

“Which ones are yours?” I asked, scanning the group of kids. There were so many, I was surprised we could hear each other over the chaos.

She pointed to the little girl in Vegas’s arms, then another little girl with braids and big glasses, and an older boy who darted out of the room with his mouth still full.

He got maybe two feet out of the kitchen before he was snatched up and turned around, forced to finish his snack before going to play.

“I’ve got four now, thanks to this one. And my old man wants more.” She smiled, shaking her head. “If I’m not careful, we’ll need a bus to transport them all.”

Yikes. I was struggling to come to terms with having one. Four kids, maybe more? “You’re a superhero,” I breathed.

She laughed. “That, or a little crazy. You have to be to be part of this crew. Come sit down. You can meet the rest of the superheroes in this crew.”