Page 14 of Wyatt (The Black Roses MC #5)

“Chocolate,” he answers with a sly grin. “And marshmallows.”

I shoot him a dubious look and he giggles. “How about sausage and mushrooms?”

He scrunches his nose and shakes his head. “No mushrooms, but me and Pepper love sausage.”

“Pepper doesn’t eat pizza.”

Colby tilts his head to the side. “He did when we were at Lucy’s. He stole it right from my plate.” Colby giggles and pets Pepper on the head as the dog leans against him with his tongue hanging from his mouth.

“Well, he’s not supposed to.” I grab my phone from my pocket and dial the pizzeria, placing an order for a large sausage pizza and some cheesy breadsticks.

Turning toward the fridge, I grab a can of soda and find a glass in the cupboard next to it.

“Alright, deal’s a deal,” I say, pouring half the can into the small plastic cup and handing it to Colby.

He turns to walk into the living room with it, watching the top carefully so it doesn’t spill.

“Are you allowed to have that in the living room?” I call and he turns around and walks back into the kitchen.

I smile as he has a seat at the kitchen table and drinks from his cup. When he’s about halfway through, he stops and lets out the biggest burp, then laughs. A chuckle escapes me, which makes Colby’s smile wider.

“Mommy says that’s gross, and I should say excuse me. I don’t think girls think that’s funny. Sarah in my class says it’s gross, too.” He shrugs but seems rather nonplussed about this Sarah girl calling him gross.

“Pfft. What does Sarah know? Take another sip. Let’s see if you can make it louder.”

Colby laughs and downs the rest of his soda. When he opens his mouth, a loud burp escapes, and then he giggles so hard he nearly topples over.

“You do it, Wyatt!”

I shrug and stand from my seat to walk over and get my own soda.

I chug half of it and then hold up a finger, signaling for Colby to wait.

When I open my mouth, I release a long and very loud burp of my own.

Colby laughs hysterically, slapping the kitchen table with his little palm.

I shake my head and realize entertaining a five-year-old isn't that hard after all. Hell, it’s practically the same as hanging out at the clubhouse, but instead of beer, we’re downing sodas and laughing at stupid shit.

“Do it again,” he yells with excitement.

Man, this kid’s easy. I chug the rest of my soda and burp as loud and for as long as I possibly can.

Colby is laughing ridiculously hard, and this time he does fall off his seat, but he rolls on his back and continues to giggle.

Pepper, not wanting to be left out of the fun, starts licking Colby’s face, which only serves to make Colby laugh harder.

Once his laughter has settled, he sits up on the floor and Pepper lies down next to him, turning on his back for belly rubs.

“Come on, kid. Didn’t your mom say something about building a fort?”

“I love forts. And farts!” He laughs hysterically at his own joke, and I can’t seem to keep the smile off my face.

“I’ll build a fort if you promise not to fart in it.”

That gets him laughing even harder. “No farts in the fort. No farts in the fort,” he sings as he jumps up and runs to the closet.

I grab the soda cans and his cup from the table and rinse it out before sticking it in the dishwasher.

I know how easily messes can pile up, and if you stay on top of it, it won’t overwhelm you the next day.

At least that’s the case at the clubhouse.

I assume living with a kid is the same to some extent, and I don’t want Maizie coming home to a mess.

I head into the living room and move the low coffee table to the side. Colby walks in with blankets and pillows stacked on his little arms higher than his head.

“Woah, kid,” I say as I grab everything from him. “The last thing I need is a trip to the ER because you tripped over something and busted your head. I don’t think your mom would be too pleased to get that phone call.”

“I’ve never been to the hospital. Have you?” he asks with wide eyes.

How do you tell a kid the last time you were in a hospital was when you were visiting your brother, who was shot because his woman’s crazy ex was after her? Answer is simple: you don’t.

“Nope,” I say, lying through my teeth. The little white lie isn’t going to hurt him, but the truth would scare the shit out of him. “So how does this usually go?”

Colby taps his finger to his chin. “My mommy takes the chairs in the kitchen and spreads them out here”—he points to a corner of the living room—“here”—he points to the other corner—“and over there.”

“Sounds easy enough.”

I turn and walk into the kitchen, and Colby darts past me, grabbing a chair and lifting it, but he only gets it about three inches off the ground before he turns around with it.

“I can do it,” he says, struggling to walk with the high-backed chair in his arms.

“Uh, how about you let me? Remember, we’re trying to avoid accidents while your mom’s gone.”

Colby sets it down and wipes his forehead with the back of his arm. “Okay,” he says, a little out of breath. “That’s heavy.”

“Don’t worry. Give it another year and you’ll be carrying all kinds of stuff around.”

“Really?”

I honestly have no clue. “Yup. Keep eating your veggies and you’ll grow up strong.” That sounds like the right thing to say.

“I love carrots. And apples. And peanut butter. And chips. And cookies,” he explains as I carry the chairs two at a time into the living room.

“How about pizza?” I toss the pillows Colby brought on the floor between the chairs.

“That’s my biggest favorite.”

I drape the blanket over the chairs, and voilà, we have ourselves a living room fort. “Phew, because we have one coming.”

As I finish my sentence, the doorbell rings. Colby runs to the door.

“Let me open it, buddy.”

The young delivery driver is on the other side, and I hand him the money from my pocket—because no way in hell is Maizie paying for anything—then take the pizza into the kitchen.

“One slice or two?” I ask the little guy standing next to me, who is practically salivating over the delicious scent of cheese and sausage.

“Three,” he answers.

I look at the pizza and back to him. “How about we start with two and you can have a third if you're still hungry?”

Colby nods. “Deal.”

I fix him a plate and give him another half of a soda—I’m the adult here, so I make the decision to bend the rules just a tad—and send him into the living room where he crawls into his fort.

Walking into the living room with my plate, I ask what he wants to watch.

He picks some kids cartoon I’ve never heard of, and I cue it up on the television.

Colby’s eyes are glued to the TV as he sits on the pillows with Pepper lying next to him, the dog’s eyes following the slice of pizza Colby brings to his mouth then sets back on his plate as he chews.

As I settle into the couch with my own plate, I feel my phone vibrate in my pocket. Lucy’s name flashes on the screen.

“I’ll be right back, bud,” I say, pulling the phone from my pocket before heading into the kitchen.

“Hey, what’s up?” I ask.

“Hey. I talked to Cece. She was asleep and didn’t hear her alarm or the million phone calls from me and Maizie. If you want her to, she can come and relieve you of your babysitting duties.”

“Nah, I’m good. We just got pizza, and now we’re watching some cartoon with talking cars.”

“Jesus, I think I’ve watched that movie at least a dozen times with him,” Lucy says with a laugh. “So you volunteered to watch Maizie’s kid, huh?” Her tone isn’t so much a question as it is a statement laced with meaning.

“I did. He’s a cool kid, and Mia and Knox wanted to get out of town to meet up with you guys.”

“Uh-huh. I’m sure it was you just being helpful to your VP and his old lady.”

And there it is. I shouldn’t be surprised. There have been a couple moments when we’ve been at the bar and my gaze has lingered a little too long on Maizie, and Lucy’s noticed. She didn’t say anything then, but apparently she was biding her time. And apparently, that time is now.

“What can I say? I’m a nice guy,” I tell her without taking the bait.

“Of course you are. You’re also as transparent as a windshield,” Lucy says with amusement in her voice.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yeah, okay.” She doesn’t buy it for a second. “Have fun with Colby. And if you’re so inclined to do something for Maizie when she gets home, she has a bottle of red in the cupboard above the fridge. She likes to have a little glass after a shift sometimes to help her wind down.”

A small smile tips my lips. “Good to know.”

“I thought it might be.”

Lucy hangs up, and I make my way back into the living room. I peek my head in the fort and see that Colby has already wolfed down one slice of pizza and is working on his second.

“Wow, bud. You were hungry.”

He nods. “Can I have another one now?”

“Of course.”

I hand him one from my plate and sit back down.

This babysitting thing is a walk in the park.

A couple hours and several homemade cookies later, Colby can barely keep his eyes open. It’s around nine o’clock, and I figure he’ll let me know when he’s tired enough for bed. When I look inside the fort, he gives me a tired smile.

“Ready to hit the hay?” I ask.

“Yeah.”

He gets up from his cocoon of blankets and pillows and trudges into his room.

“Let me know when you're ready,” I say, giving him some privacy to change into his pajamas.

“Okay, Wyatt.”

I walk in, and the kid is under the covers with three books sitting on the bed.

“Can you read me a story?”

I nod and sit next to him, picking up a book with a bear on the front. It looks as though it’s been well read, the cardboard pages frayed at the edges.

“Is this your favorite?”

He nods slowly, the sugar crash from the cookies hitting him hard.

I read him his book, surprised that when I get to the end, he’s still awake.

“Another?” I ask.