Cullen: Steel Cobras MC

by Evie Monroe

  Still, I had to wonder. I crossed my arms and leaned against the Charger. “So, you had to have heard rumors. What were people saying? When the president of the Cobras didn’t show up for his own meeting?”

  Nix shrugged. “They were confused, at first. But they know you, man. They know how loyal you are. When you didn’t show up, they knew you had to have a good reason.”

  I let out a breath of air. “I know she’s a good enough reason to me.”

  A slow smile broke out on his face. “What are you wondering? Whether they’re going to vote you out, man?” He smacked me on the shoulder. “Fuck that. You don’t have to sell your soul to us, man. You can have a life. What you just said in there proves it. No one else could do what you do. I know I sure couldn’t. We’re damn lucky to have you.”

  “Yeah. Thanks. See you man.”

  As I got in the car and gunned the engine, I let out a breath, then rolled down the window and let the cool breeze from the Pacific take me home.

  Chapter Thirty

  Grace

  “Ugh, really, Ella?” I moaned as I turned away from the stove to catch her splashing jelly all over her new sundress. She’d been wearing a bib, but only God knew where that had gone.

  As I rushed over to her, lifting the dress over her head as she laughed and shouted, “Really! Really! Really!”

  I frowned. “Oh, you just think you’re so cute, don’t you?”

  I took the sink and started scrubbing and the pink and white gingham check fabric with some dish soap when suddenly a heard a hissing sound from the stove. I turned in time to see the pot boiling over.

  “Shit!” I shouted, dropping the dress in the suds in the sink and managing to push the pot off of the burner.

  “Shit shit shit!” Ella cried.

  “No! No! Don’t say that.” I semi-scolded her, wincing as I looked at the clock. We were due to be at the Sumter’s in fifteen minutes for their family picnic. In a fit of insanity where I actually thought I could be Miss Happy Homemaker, I’d volunteered to bring a potato salad. Never mind that I’d never made potato salad, or anything potluck, in my life. Hell, I’d never even been to a potluck before. I’d gotten a recipe online, read the steps, and figured, how hard could it be?

  But that was before Ella decided to keep me up all night with teething pain. Cullen had told me he’d handle it, but she screamed all night long, so even though he closed the door, I couldn’t sleep. Then, when I started to work on the salad, I realized I’d forgotten . . . not some obscure ingredient on the list. No, I had all those. What I’d forgotten was . . . the damn potatoes.

  Cullen had called church early, because there were rumors about the Fury flying around, and he needed to stay on top of it all. So I’d had to call down to Whole Foods, and get the potatoes delivered. Then the washing machine had given out on me, flooding the entire laundry room, which was a joy to clean up.

  Now, I was standing in the kitchen, in sopping clothes, unshowered, my hair like a bird’s nest on the top of my head, ready to sob. I tried to pull myself together as I heard Cullen’s motorcycle pulling up into the garage. I took a deep breath and wiped the tears from my eyes.

  When he came in, I said, “Everything okay?”

  He nodded, kissed me on the forehead, then went over and gave Ella a kiss. “You’re not ready yet?” he asked me casually.

  No shit, Sherlock. I clenched my fists and tried to keep it together.

  He frowned when she smacked her sticky hands to his beard. “Shit shit shit!” she exclaimed.

  He looked at me, a questionable smirk on his face.

  Just as I started to sob.

  Then he took Ella into his arms and said, “That ain’t the way a good girl’s supposed to talk.” He started to walk upstairs. “Come on, baby. Let’s get you upstairs to wash you up and give some mommy some alone-time.”

  I smiled gratefully at him as he went past me. As he did, he squeezed my ass again and murmured, “Take it easy, girl. They won’t hang you if they don’t have their potato salad.”

  I knew that. Barry had been nothing but sweet to me, especially in the past few weeks, since we’d come back from Santa Barbara. And knowing the way she entertained me like a regular Martha Stewart, my little potato salad was probably nothing compared to the spread she’d no doubt come up with. I’d go over there with Ella almost every afternoon, for snacks, and Ella and her granddaughter’s little Tori, would play together on the swings as we sipped iced tea. It was so normal, so nice, exactly what I needed for Ella.

  But I wanted to keep it going. I wanted to grow our relationship, so when Barry invited Cullen, me, and Ella to a family get-together with all of the Sumter’s friends and family from San Francisco, I jumped at the chance.

  Later on, it hit me, how much was riding on this. Cullen still hadn’t said so much as boo to either of the Sumter’s. He was still closed-off, still rode down the street like a badass who’d run you over if you got in his way. Barry hadn’t mentioned it, even though I kept peppering our talks with stories about the sweet things Cullen did for me.

  That’s why this potato salad had to be perfect. I didn’t just want them to like me and Ella. I wanted them to like all of us. Love us. I wanted to make a potato salad of epic proportions.

  Once the potatoes came, the rest of the potato salad wasn’t hard to make. I was no cook, but I followed the recipe and tasted along the way, and I didn’t think it’d give anyone food poisoning. I stuck it in the fridge and took the stairs two at a time, trying to get upstairs to get to the shower.

  When I went in the bedroom, Cullen was standing in front of his dresser, half naked, trying to pick out a new shirt to wear. He lifted a white one out of the stack and looked at me. “You got it under control?”

  I checked my phone and shook my head as I rushed for the shower, ripping my t-shirt over my head. “No, we should be there already. Where’s Ella?”

  “In her room. She’s fine.”

  Great. As I undid my bra, still caught in the tangles of my shirt, I realized I’d left her dress in the sink. Fuck. “I’ve got to—”

  I stopped as he clamped his hand over my wrist. I was still caught in the confines of my shirt as he pulled me toward him. I growled at him. I didn’t need this now. He sat down on the bed, pushing the t-shirt down over my head so he could look me in the eye. “Hey. Look at me.”

  “I’ve got to . . .” I wriggled, but he held me firm. I eventually caved, because he was giving me that commanding Cobras president look that never failed.

  “It’s a party. No one will care if we’re a half hour, hell, an hour late. Calm yourself, girl.”

  I was so worked up, my body shook. The tension spiraled off of me in hot waves.

  “Deep breath.”

  I swallowed a gulp of air. Let it out, slowly. He was right. It did make me feel a little better. I stood there, between his open legs, as he looked up at me, hands clamped firmly onto both of my arms. Time was ticking.

  “Now what?” I asked.

  “Take another one.”

  I rolled my eyes. “I don’t have time for this.”

  He gave me that silently commanding look.

  I took another one. Felt a little better.

  He reached up and lifted the shirt over my head. Pulled the undone bra straps from my shoulders, and off of my arms. He slowly wrapped a big, callused hand around my breast and brought the nipple to his mouth. He licked at it, and I was instantly wet.

  “We can be a lot late, if you want,” he said, wetting my nipple to a diamond-hard point. “I will not mind.”

  As good as it felt, I had too much riding on this. I shook my head. “Cullen. Please. I know you’d be happy if we never went to this thing at all. But it matters to me. A lot.”

  He kissed his way up my breastbone, up my throat, and to my chin. “Yeah. I know. I told you,” he said, releasing me and tapping my ass toward the shower. “I’m down for it. Get ready.”

  I rushed into the shower and turned o
n the water, trying to take my time, like Cullen had said. But my nerves were completely shot. I imagined walking into a full backyard of strangers and having them look at us like we were lepers. I only managed a five-minute shower and shave before I felt like I was going to explode. I ran into the bedroom and started to dry my hair in front of the mirror, mentally going through my wardrobe to find my most conservative outfit. Hair still wet, I tied it up in a ponytail and put on some quick mascara.

  When I turned around, Cullen was holding my bright red, gauzy boho dress in front of me. “I can’t wear that,” I told him.

  “Hell, yes, you can. You look hot in it.”

  “But I don’t want to look hot to these people. I want to look like a mom,” I protested, fingering it. It was long enough, as far as sundresses went, but I couldn’t wear a bra with it because of a plunging neckline and spaghetti straps.

  “Nothing wrong with being a hot mom.”

  I smiled at him and grabbed it. He held up one of my thongs with the other hand. I grabbed it and shimmied into it, then pulled the dress over my head. I looked into the mirror. “Are you sure?”

  He slid onto the bed, leaning back, scrutinizing me, and shook his head slowly.

  I gave him a doubtful look.

  He reached for me, his fingers walking their way under the dress, caressing my ass. “Not sure I want to share you, looking that good.”

  I swatted him away, but only half-heartedly, now, because I loved the feeling of his hands on me. I wished I could enjoy it. I wished I didn’t have to feel this goddamned need to make everything perfect. Why should I want to impress perfect people whose opinions of us and how we lived our lives shouldn’t have mattered? “Cullen . . .”

  He wrapped his hands around my bottom, squeezed, and stared up at me. Then he let go. “All right. I’m ready when you are.”

  I looked at him. Yes, he looked good, the way I liked him. Even in a clean white shirt, he still managed to look dirty. He was tatted and rough and beautiful . . . but what would the country club set next door think?

  I knew Cullen could be charming, but if he got somewhere where he felt disrespected, he put up a fight. I didn’t want him to turn into an asshole. I didn’t even want to think about the possibility of him creating a scene next door, among the people I so desperately wanted to befriend.

  But no, he was right. I had him, I had Ella, and those were the people who mattered. Everyone else could fuck off. I scuffed into my flip-flops, straightened my back, and took a deep breath. “I’m ready.”

  I went across the hall and woke Ella, who’d fallen asleep. I woke her and slipped a fresh new sundress on her and checked my phone. Only twenty minutes late. Not too bad.

  “Can you get the potato salad from the fridge for me?” I asked as I hefted Ella’s overflowing diaper bag onto my shoulder.

  He went into the kitchen to grab it for me and I had to laugh a little when I saw him, all cool in his dark sunglasses and jeans . . . holding Tupperware under one arm.

  We went outside and down the long driveway to the sidewalk. The road was already choked with cars, as was the Sumter’s long, U-shaped driveway. Barry had a high fence up around the backyard, but I could hear the chatter of people, along with smooth jazz music, wafting up over the barrier.

  I looked at Cullen, and he reached over and took my hand. I entwined my fingers with his as he said, “We’ll be fine.”

  When he looked at me like that, with that commanding Cullen expression, it was impossible to believe anything bad could ever happen to us.

  “Do you think we should go in the front, or around back?”

  He shrugged, slipped off his sunglasses, and hung them in the neck of his t-shirt. I walked toward the front door, and started to reach for the doorbell, when he stepped in front of me and said, “Before you do that . . .”

  I looked down at myself. I figured I had a hair out of place, or the tag of my dress was hanging out, and he was just going to tuck it where it belonged.

  Instead, he set the Tupperware down.

  He reached into his pocket.

  And as he knelt on one knee, I thought for sure that he must have dropped something.

  I just stared, mouth open. He wasn’t proposing. This was Cullen. He was the Cobras President. And this was our neighbor’s doorstep.

  “I’ve been wanting to do this for a couple days, baby,” he said, scratching the side of his face. “But you know me. Always late for just about everything. Doesn’t mean I don’t love you. Because I do. I love you and Ella more than anything. You two turned my world upside down in the best of ways and I’ll be damned if I’ll let you get away from me again.”

  Okay. Unless my ears were really playing tricks on me, that sounded a little like a proposal.

  He held the ring out in his hand. It was a perfect, heart-shaped solitaire, exactly what I probably would’ve picked out myself . . . had I ever thought this day would come.

  But I never had. This was Cullen McKnight, after all.

  I just stared. Cullen McKnight. Proposing. To me. It didn’t compute. All I kept thinking was. Party. At the Sumter’s. I made potato salad. And . . . now he was kneeling in front of me, with a ring.

  He took my hand and gazed up into my eyes. “Grace, will you marry me?”

  That typical, intense, presidential gaze locked on mine. I didn’t stand a chance. My knees wobbled. “You’re proposing . . . to me?”

  He shook his head.

  Oh, okay. I thought for a second this was some weird, crazy miscommunication.

  “To both of you. Ella, and you. I want you both to be my family.”

  Then the tears came. Hard. Showers and fountains and waterfalls of tears.

  I shook my head. This wasn’t happening. I mean, I’d made potato salad. I’d been all flustered. And now we were going to meet a bunch of total strangers and try to impress them and be good neighbors . . . and meanwhile, I had mascara all over my face and looked like a total wreck. “What is happening?” I blubbered. “Why . . .”

  “Say yes, baby,” he coaxed gently.

  “Yes. Of course, yes! But I can’t believe you’re asking me this!” He slipped the ring onto my finger. “When did you decide? Why now?”

  “I decided,” he said, standing up and taking me and Ella into his arms. “When we left the Four Seasons. I got the ring a week ago. I’d tried to do it a dozen times but it was never the right time.”

  As he pulled me close, I stared at the ring. I was engaged. This was the fairy tale. The fairy tale I’d always wanted, but never in a million years thought would happen, with Cullen.

  No. This was better than the fairy tale.

  “Oh, my God. I can’t believe it.”

  Just then, the door opened. Barry stood there, smiling at us. I waved my finger to tell her the impossible news when she looked at Cullen and said, “You get it done? Finally?”

  He gave her a sheepish look and smiled. “I did it though, didn’t I?”

  What? They sounded entirely too familiar than I expected them to be. I stared at her, confused. She grinned at me. “He told me this morning he still hadn’t done it, and I cracked my whip.”

  I closed my eyes, trying to make sense of what she was saying. “What . . . he told you? I thought . . .”

  “You thought we hated each other?” Barry laughed. “Well, I suppose things were a little cool between us, up until a week ago, when he came over and told me his plans. Since then, we’ve been the best of friends.”

  “Friends?” My eyes volleyed back and forth between them. “His . . . plans?”

  She nodded and opened the screen door. “Well, come on in! Everyone’s waiting.”

  Cullen reached down to scoop up the potato salad and held the door open for me. I went through the house, in a daze, not sure what the hell was going on. I had a ring on my finger that told me I was going to marry Cullen. I was going to be his wife. My heart was jumping for joy and thrumming in my chest from sheer disbelief.

  Barry l
ed us to the kitchen, where she opened up the sliding glass doors and stepped aside, waving her hand with great flourish.

  I moved into the doorway, having no clue what I’d see. A unicorn? After all, I’d already seen Cullen on a knee in front of me. After that, anything was possible.

  The second I stepped out onto the deck, the cheer rose up from the crowd. “Congratulations!”

  I looked around, stunned, at all the banners and balloons, all proclaiming the very same thing. Ella clapped her hands and pointed. “Balloon!”

  My eyes scanned the crowd. There were the well-to-do, preppy types that I’d expected, and also, a number of men in jeans and kuttes, just like Cullen. Cobras. They were all mingling together, having a great time. They’d all known about this.

  This was a party for us. An engagement party. And from the way Cullen was grinning at me, he’d known about it all along.

  “You’re a sneaky thing,” I whispered to him between smiles. I’d never had a baby shower, a sweet sixteen, or anything even close to it. In fact, looking out at the sea of faces swarming around Barry’s expansive yard, I realized it was the biggest party I’d ever been to, period.

  And Cullen had done it, for me. For us.

  I started to cry, all over again.

  We walked down the steps and he greeted his men, introducing me to all of them, whose names I quickly forgot. Some of them hugged me, and the congratulations went up all around. It was easy to see that these men not only respected Cullen—they loved him. They were the only family he knew.

  Barry introduced us to her friends and family, who were just as nice as she’d been to me, and all the while, I couldn’t get over that this was what it was like to finally fit in. This was our new normal. A little bit crazy, a little bit wild. Not your typical fairy tale, but a fairy tale nonetheless. I had a feeling Ella and I could definitely get used to it.

  “Thank you,” I whispered to Cullen, when we’d finally had a minute alone and he put a beer in my hand. I clinked my bottle with his and took a drink.

  He reached into my diaper bag and pulled out a sippy cup, which he handed to Ella. “Anything for my girls,” he said.