by Freya Barker
Autumn walks out behind me and puts an arm around my shoulders.
“Let me introduce you to those you don’t know.”
She walks me around, introducing me to Dylan, Luna, and Damian, the three FBI agents. I also meet Cap’s wife, Sonja, who is as sweet as she looks. I receive so many hugs and congratulations as I make the rounds, I’m dumbfounded.
So many people, some of whom I’d never even met, are here to celebrate Hanna. I’m overwhelmed. I never had a sense of a community growing up…or family, for that matter. Seeing all these people from different walks of life—with different ethnic and cultural backgrounds—mingling and mixing so effortlessly is yet another testament to the fact I made the right choice in moving to Durango.
Coming around the side of the house are Trunk and Keith Blackfoot, aiming straight for us. Although Keith has his eyes on his wife, he comes to me first and kisses me on the cheek.
“Congrats, Tahlula. Happy as hell both you and Hanna are home safe and sound. Autumn tells me the baby is another gorgeous redhead?” He drapes his arm around his wife.
“She is,” I confirm with a nod.
“Don’t remind me,” Trunk grumbles, but I choose to ignore him. Sometimes that’s easier than arguing.
“You’ll meet her soon. Let me see what’s keeping Evan.”
I head inside where I find Joan manning the kitchen. “He took Hanna upstairs, honey,” she informs me, and I can’t stop myself from giving the woman a hug and a kiss.
“Thank you for everything you’ve done for me—for us—in the past months. But especially for raising such an amazing man. There’s no way to repay you.”
Joan’s eyes get misty as she puts a cool hand to my cheek. “Silly. You already have, in spades.” I try to ignore the stinging in my nose. “Go on upstairs, dear. I’ll keep the crowd busy.”
I give her another quick kiss on the cheek before heading down the hallway to the bedroom.
On the bed, I find Evan sitting with his back to the headboard, Luke on the bed with him. The dog’s chin is resting on Evan’s thigh and his nose is gently sniffing baby Hanna, who is being fed a bottle by her father.
“I could’ve nursed her,” I tell him, climbing up on the bed with them.
“We still had some breast milk in the freezer, I figured this way you’d have your hands free for a bit. Are you pissed?”
He looks a little guilty, but I don’t plan to make him suffer.
“Have I told you I love you?”
His smile grows wide. “Any chance you get, Lula. I love you too, every day it grows. I’m amazed that’s even possible.”
“I know.”
I watch as he gently rotates the nipple in Hanna’s mouth to encourage her to keep drinking. “Babe, there’s an envelope on my nightstand, can you grab that and open it?”
I do as he asks, sticking a finger under the flap of the envelope and rip it open. Inside I find an official looking document.
“What’s this?”
“Title to the house in both our names,” he says casually, and my mouth drops open.
“Why?”
He shrugs his shoulders. “Because even though I know for a fact I’ll never fuck you over and leave you without a roof over your head, I want you to have it in black and white.”
“But that’s not fair to you. I should buy in,” I sputter, but he shakes his head.
“Makes more sense to invest your money in expanding the house like we talked about. Would that make you feel better?”
My eyes narrow on him. “Stop making sense, you’re starting to annoy me. Now give me Little Pea.” Hanna has once again dozed off, but the bottle is empty.
Evan hands her over without argument, hooking his now free hand behind my neck, and pressing his forehead to mine.
“I’m a blessed man, Lula.”
I reach to press my mouth against his in a sweet kiss, our baby girl peacefully sleeping wedged between us.
Much later—after dinner, lots of laughter, and Hanna asleep in her crib after being passed around from hand to hand like the belle of the ball—Evan and I are finally alone.
I’m lying with my leg pulled up over his, my hand on his stomach and my head pillowed on his chest; recovering from the mind-blowing orgasm he just pulled from me with his mouth and fingers. That was after he used that same mouth and those same fingers to carefully map every inch of my post-pregnancy body, making me feel nothing short of worshipped.
“Come up here, baby.”
With his hand in the crook of my knee, he pulls me on top of him, straddling his hips, his hard cock hot between us.
“You’re in the driver’s seat, Lula. I’m so fucking primed, I’m scared I’ll hurt you.”
I lean down, slanting my mouth over his, my tongue slipping between his lips for a taste. “You never would,” I tell him when I come up for air.
Gently rocking my hips I slick his shaft with my wet core, feeling his fingers digging into my legs as he hisses through his teeth. Tilting just enough, I catch the crown between my folds, slowly sliding down on him until I’m seated to the root.
“Christ, you feel good, Lula,” he groans, moving his hands to my ass I can feel his urgency. I lift up, until only the tip remains inside me, before sliding back down, keeping the same easy pace.
I thought it might hurt, but it doesn’t. It feels overwhelmingly full, just like my heart does. I keep my eyes on his as I repeat the move, watching him struggle for control as I hover above him, demanding all his attention.
His fingers bite, and eyes burn when I tell him, “Thank you—for all this beauty.”
That’s when his control snaps.
In a flash I’m on my back, Evan grunting into my neck as he drives inside me.
Epilogue
Evan
I take a sip of coffee and briefly close my eyes when the hot fuel hits my veins.
It’s still early, and down the hall I can faintly hear the toilet flush.
Lowering my cup, I glance out the kitchen window to see the first real snow of the season cover the yard and the mountain behind it in a thick blanket.
December first. Hanna is four months old today. In twenty-four days, she’ll have her first Christmas.
Last year it had just been Ma and me for Christmas. The first year after Dad died neither of us wanted to celebrate at all. Since then I usually will work a shift for someone wanting to spend the holiday with family, and Ma and I pick another day to celebrate.
This year, however, the house will be full of people December twenty-fifth. I can’t fucking wait.
Tahlula has been plotting and planning since we heard the first strains of Christmas music over the sound system at the City Market. I don’t think she ever had what most people would consider a normal Christmas, but she’s bound and determined to make brand-new traditions.
“It’s perfect,” her soft voice sounds behind me as she slides her arms around my waist. “I can’t wait to take Little Pea out on a sled.”
I chuckle as I cover her hands on my stomach with my own. “Aren’t you getting ahead of yourself? Hanna can’t even sit unassisted yet, Lula.”
She lifts my arm and ducks underneath, wedging herself between the counter and my body. I look down at her smiling face. “Then we’ll have to make sure the sled is big enough to hold us both. You can pull.”
“I can pull?” I lift an eyebrow.
“Unless you don’t think you can handle us,” she teases, tilting her head.
“Oh, I can handle you,” I bite, and she busts out laughing.
“You’re so easy.”
I tug her closer, bending down. “Only for you, baby,” I mumble, kissing her smiling lips.
An angry wail comes from the baby monitor Tahlula set on the counter.
“Foiled,” she grumbles, trying to push out of my arms. “Again.”
I give her one more hard kiss before letting her go. “I’ll get her. Have a quick coffee.” I start walking when I hear a voice behi
nd me and turn my head.
“Told ya. Easy.” Her eyes sparkle over the rim of my coffee cup as she takes a sip.
Hanna grows more impatient down the hall and I hurry to get her, the grin I seem to be wearing a lot these days plastered on my face.
The moment I open the door to the nursery the wailing stops, and when I walk up to the crib, my little girl is already smiling. She knows how to wrap me around her little finger.
“Come here, you little minx,” I tell her, leaning into the crib.
Before I can lift her out, she already has her little fists yanking on my beard. I’d once suggested shaving it off a few months ago but that drew an impassioned protest from Tahlula.
“You’re just like your mom, aren’t you, Pea?” I coo at her, as I quickly strip her wriggly body out of the footie pajamas. She gurgles as she finds her foot, before stuffing her toes in her mouth. “You know exactly how to get your way by batting those eyes at me.”
I struggle to get her diaper off, but she’s not on board letting her foot go.
“Help me out here, Hanna. The sooner I can get you diapered and dressed, the sooner you can go see your mom. Your toes are cute, but Mom’s boobs are prettier…and tastier.”
As if she understands what I’m saying, she lets go of her little foot and immediately starts babbling. Something she just started doing last week. The effort has her punch out her arms and legs. It’s the most adorable thing I’ve seen.
I make quick work of the diaper and her little outfit, while she prattles on. “Is that a fact?” I smile at her when I close the last snap.
Her response is a wide toothless grin—something else she recently started doing—before she lets out a loud squeal, startling even herself. I quickly scoop her off the changing table and lift her in front of my face. Wide copper-colored eyes stare back at me.
“Just like your mom.”
Tahlula
I smile as I listen to the deep rumble of Evan’s voice and Hanna’s excited chatter.
He is a wonderful father.
I let that thought settle into me. He makes a wonderful father. I feel my earlier bout of nerves draining.
It was a shock, finding the box of condoms stuffed in the back of the bathroom vanity, unopened. Went a long way to explaining why I was still waiting for my period after all these months, though. I’m not even sure whether something in me was purposely ignoring the fact we haven’t used protection since Hanna was born, or whether I was really that clueless.
The unused box of condoms sure brought it home, though. It did get me thinking about Evan’s state of mind and that made me nervous. Is it possible he assumed I was on the pill or something? Or under the faulty impression as long as I’m nursing I’m safe?
We haven’t even discussed more kids; we still have our hands full with Hanna. It doesn’t mean he hasn’t thought about it. I have.
I take another sip of coffee before decidedly pouring the rest in the sink. Back to decaf for me.
“Hey, that’s my coffee you’re pouring out,” Evan says, as he walks in with Hanna hanging onto his beard. The moment she sees me, though, she lets go and almost propels herself toward me.
“Easy, Little Pea, you’re gonna get yourself hurt.” I take her from Evan’s arms and kiss her chubby cheek, before propping her on my hip. “Is Hanna hungry?”
Her jerky arms and legs are answer enough, and I walk over to the couch to settle in my favorite corner. Luke jumps up beside me and, as he’s been doing since Hanna came home, snuggles close. In a well-practiced move, I have my shirt pulled up and Hanna situated on my lap. I don’t have to do much more; my girl knows the drill by now and latches on, a hand on the swell of my breast as her wide-open eyes stare up into mine.
It’s like looking in a mirror. Aside from the pale color of her skin and the red hair, she’s undeniably my child. Her mouth, the flare of her nose, and of course, that eye color.
I look over my shoulder at Evan, who grabs his keys and wallet from the counter.
“Where are you off to?”
He walks up behind me, leaning over the back of the couch so I have to drop my head back. “I’ve got a quick errand to run, and then I’ll pick us up some breakfast.”
“An errand at seven thirty on a Saturday morning during a snowstorm?”
“Walmart is always open.”
“Okay, then what on earth do you need from Walmart at seven thirty on a Saturday morning during a snowstorm?”
For a moment, he drops his head down before raising it again with a smile on his face. “Plan on taking my girls sledding after breakfast,” he rumbles. “That means I gotta get a sled big enough for the two of ya.”
I only hesitate for a second before blurting out, “Maybe we need to get one that fits three.”
Initial confusion is quickly replaced by shock as he straightens up. With one look at Hanna, he turns on his heel and heads for the front hall, shoving his feet in his boots and tugging on his coat.
“Evan?” I call out, but he doesn’t react. With a quick twist of his hand he turns the deadbolt, pulls open the door, and disappears outside, letting it fall shut behind him.
Well. I could’ve planned that better.
Despite my effort to hold back the tears, my eyes start to burn. This was not the reaction I expected.
I may have fucked up.
The moment the first tear escapes my lashes; the door opens again, letting in a blast of cold air and Evan. I watch as he kicks off his boots, dumps his coat on the hall bench, and moves toward the couch with purpose.
Right in front of me he drops to his knees, snow melting in his beard. When his eyes meet mine I see they’re clear, bright, and happy.
“I thought you were—” I don’t get to say more as he cuts me off with a sharp shake of his head.
“No,” he says firmly. “I promised myself the next time you carried my baby, you’d be carrying my name first.” He reaches out, wiping the single tear from my cheek with his cold thumb. Then he grabs my hand, sliding a gorgeous turquoise ring on my finger before he continues.
“I had it specially designed for you. I figured you can buy your own diamonds, if you want them, but I felt a turquoise would represent you better. It’s supposed to represent wisdom, intuition, loyalty, tranquility, creativity, patience, and love—exactly like you.”
“Evan…” My heart is in my throat and I have trouble getting his name out. He’s gutting me with his words.
“Be my wife,” he says, his lips touching the ring on my finger. “Show the world we belong together.”
It takes me a second to get myself under control enough to answer, but before I have a chance, Hanna protests loudly at the lack of attention directed at her. I quickly flip her around so she can take my other breast.
“Killing me here, Lula,” Evan groans, and I take pity.
“That would be a definite yes.”
THE END
Would you like to know Trunk and Jaimie’s story?
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EDGE OF REASON
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Arrow’s Edge MC Series
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CHAPTER 1
Trunk
“How’s he doing?”
Ouray is waiting for me in the hallway outside the small office I use. Both of us watch as the lanky teen I just spent the past hour with disappears into the clubhouse common room.
The kid’s a hard nut and so far little I’ve tried to get through to Matt has been successful. In fact, haven’t even begun the scratch the surface since the club brought him in three weeks ago.
He’d been found in the furnace room of an apartment complex in town where he’d been spending his nights staying warm. The kid jimmied a basement window and used that to come and go. Judging by the nest he’d made for himself between two large water
heaters, he’d been there for a while.
Matt was lucky he didn’t start a fire. Luckier still that the building happened to belong to Arrow’s Edge. Although whether he thinks so remains to be seen.
The Arrow’s Edge is unlike any other motorcycle clubs I’ve encountered in my years riding. Most of them are either purely recreational, like the one I rode with back in Denver, or involved in illegal activities. Although flexible with the rules of the law, for the most part the club runs a variety of legal enterprises. In addition they provide a safe haven for street kids, giving them a roof over their heads, food in their belly, structure, education, and a sense of family.
The boys all have their own stories on how they ended up on the streets, some harder than others.
How exactly Matt—if that’s even his real name—ended up where we found him is still a mystery. The boy is slicker than an eel in a bucket of snot.
“Hard to tell. Kid’ll do and say anything to make sure he’s got food to eat and a place to stay warm. He’s a con.”
“Streetwise,” Ouray translates.
“I’m guessing he’s been there for a good while.”
“No names? Parents? Nothing we can get our teeth into?”
I shake my head. Three weeks of one-on-one sessions and he’s not given me a single piece of concrete information. The kid’s an enigma and a serious blow to my professional confidence.
“I’ll keep on him,” I promise Ouray, the club’s president.
I’m as frustrated as he is at the lack of information. Most of the boys here are under guardianship of the club, either obtained from the parents, through the CPS, or through the court system. Not knowing who a kid is, makes that difficult.