Margo still wasn’t sure how she felt about Gunner being in a biker gang—no wait, club. He’d said they hated being referred to as a gang. Shaking her head, she stretched, feeling the slight pain in her lower back that let her know she’d been painting too much this week. She wasn’t any calmer after two days than she had been the other night when he’d let the cat out of the bag. Margo really wasn’t mad that he hadn’t told her from the beginning that he was a part of the Grave Diggers MC because what she knew about bikers was dark and damned scary. She wouldn’t have reacted well to the news and likely wouldn’t have gotten to know him if he’d told her about his involvement with the MC when they first met.

It was sad to think that she wouldn’t know how he liked his back scratched before he fell asleep at night, that he could make her laugh till her belly ached, or that he cleaned when he was stressed. The thought of those things was truly tragic. No, she couldn’t say she was upset he’d kept her in the dark over the past few months, mostly because she might just be falling in love with him. Glancing at the clock, she realized that she’d better get her ass in gear.

This morning she’d talked to him about giving him and his club a chance. He’d been glad and said he’d call her later. He hadn’t called, but he did send her a text that he was coming over at six tonight. Since it was five forty, she needed to get her head on straight. The reason she’d agreed to get to know his ‘family’ was because she realized after much thought, that she still trusted him more than she ever had any other man. It was odd how close she felt to him. It was like she’d known him all her life, even though she’d only spent a few months with him. She wasn’t sure that she could accept the club he ran with as part of her life, but because of the connection she had with him, she’d attempt it. Rubbing her face before she headed towards the bathroom she stuck the key under the doormat just in case he was early.

Her phone started ringing and she lifted it hoping it was Gunner, only to groan. Ugh, it was her mother. Helen had been making her crazy since the night she had to call her to come pick her up when she had the flat tire. She wanted Margo to go to some dinner she was hosting tonight and Margo was dead set against going. She didn’t want anything to do with one of her mother’s dinner parties. She wasn’t going—at least not in this lifetime—even guilt wasn’t enough to make her go. She ignored her phone waiting until it quit ringing to pick it up. Gunner would be over soon and she hadn’t showered yesterday so she was likely pretty rank. Sometimes when she was stressed, she would paint all day and crash when she finished without eating or showering. On days like that, if it hadn’t been for the food Gunner was having delivered to her door, she likely wouldn’t eat. Damn the man for being correct about that.

She sent Gunner a quick text that she was in the shower, but that the key was under the mat for him before heading to the bathroom. Her leaving the key under the mat had become sort of routine for them when they’d been together. If she was at work at the community college, or if she was working in her studio and knew he was coming over, she’d leave the key beneath the mat. It was a sore subject and Gunner had been pressing her to let him make a key because according to him, her leaving it out was asking for someone to rob her, or worse.

He’d insisted that anyone who saw her put it under the mat could break in. She hadn’t discounted the truth of his words and had been considering letting him make one before they broke up. Of course, the only person on the same floor was Mrs. Coats and Margo had a feeling that she wasn’t a criminal master mind, or looking to rob her. Since Mrs. Coats lived alone and only had family who flew in from St. Louis twice a year, she was likely pretty safe. She reached out grabbing a towel to place on the sink for herself to dry off with when she got out of the shower. As she shucked her clothes and climbed into the shower she had a smile on her face, feeling lighter than she had in more than a week.

 

 

Gunner looked down at his phone as he climbed off his bike, letting out a little growl of displeasure. He hated when she left that key out for him. It was dangerous and he was taking it with him this time to make a copy. Thankfully, he was already here and it wouldn’t be more than a minute before he removed the damn thing from under the ridiculous cartoon character welcome mat. He walked inside taking the elevator to the floor her apartment was on, as he exited he lumbered down the hall with his jaw clenched. He was pulling the key to Margo’s door from under the mat when Mrs. Coats peeked out through the crack in her door to see who was in the hall.

He nodded to her with a slight grin on his face. She huffed and slammed the door shut. If anyone had tried to get into Margo’s place with her key at least he could count on Mrs. Coats calling the police. Not that he liked those bastards, but at least they’d stop anyone from breaking into Margo’s place. That was of course, assuming the person didn’t burst into Mrs. Coats apartment and steal her blind too. It was a grim thought, but in his world, it wasn’t uncommon for shit like that to happen. Gunner knew that he and his brothers would have handled it, but that wouldn’t have helped Margo or Mrs. Coats if some fuck had hurt them. His hands clenched and his jaw tightened again as he pulled the door open and entered Margo’s apartment. He walked down the hall while putting her key into his wallet. He stood in the kitchen rubbing the back of his neck. He looked down seeing Margo’s sketch book on the counter. He reached out and began flipping through her sketches. He was always awed by her work because she really was a talented artist.

He paused looking at a sketch she’d drawn of a little girl in the park playing in a sand box. The scene was drawn with such detail that he could see the dimples in the little girl’s cheeks and the tiny freckles on her nose. He sat down on one of the stools and began looking through the rest of the sketch book. Gunner glanced at her phone when it began blaring out the theme to Psycho. He grinned a little when he noted that the screen read mom in bold type. He could relate to her dark sense of humor because there were times when he wanted to pretend that his own mother didn’t exist. 

He didn’t answer, figuring Margo could call her back when she got out of the shower. Setting down the sketch pad, he walked over to the fridge. He wasn’t surprised to find four beers left in the door where he’d put them before they’d split-up because she wasn’t much of a drinker. Margo did drink, just not often and she wasn’t fond of beer. He moved back to the counter and started looking through the sketches again. He was a little annoyed when her phone started ringing a second time. He noted it was the same ring tone so it must be her mother and he wondered if he should answer it.

He didn’t want to fuck things up between them again after they’d just worked things out, so he stared hard at the phone. He took a long swig of his beer wondering if it might be urgent. He was about to answer it when the call was sent to voice mail. He shrugged as he glanced down at the sketch book again, noticing that most of the sketches he was flipping through were ones that he’d already seen, so he shut the book. Taking his beer, he stood up and walked over to sit on the couch, turning on her TV. He was flipping through the channels aimlessly and found a show about some guys who customized motorcycles. He’d been watching it about twenty minutes when her phone started to ring again. Gunner sighed as he got up and grabbed if off the counter and answered it. 

“Hello.” He muttered into the phone.

“Um—oh, I was looking for Margo. She must have changed her number, wait no, I just called this number and got her voicemail. Did she put you up to answering her phone? Are you some stranger she convinced to pretend I had the wrong number? That girl is such a disappointment,” A cultured female voice floated through the receiver.

Gunner clenched his hand on the countertop to keep from telling Margo’s mother off for her snide comment about Margo. He mentally counted to ten, trying not to allow his furious response to her words come out in his tone, as he replied to her questions.

“No ma’am, she’s in the shower. I’m her boyfriend, can I help you?” He asked, already disliking her. He really hoped like hell that she and Margo weren’t close because if they were he was going to have to put up with her bullshit and he hated dealing with toxic people.

“She’s taking a shower with you in her apartment? Don’t you think that’s a little inappropriate?” Gunner was taken back for a moment hearing the rapid-fire questions. After all, they were dating and it wasn’t the Dark Ages. He was about to tell her to mind her own fucking business when he stopped himself, reminding his inner asshole to take a step back because this was Margo’s mother. He couldn’t tell her off or be rude to her, no matter how outdated and old fashion her ideas were. Gritting his teeth, he searched his mind for a reasonable response that he could live with.

“Since I’m in the living room and not in the shower with her, no I don’t believe it is inappropriate, ma’am.”  Gunner felt proud that he’d held back enough not to add bitch at the end of that statement, even though it had been tempting.

“I see,” she said, her voice tight and the long pause after she said it spoke volumes. “Well, tell her that she needs to be here at seven for dinner when she gets out of the shower.” Gunner wasn’t too happy with the tone she’d used, but he bit his tongue. Margo wouldn’t want him to cuss out her mother. Trying to control his temper, he found himself glaring at the photo of Zoey and Margo that was on the wall across from where he was standing. Mentally lecturing himself not to tell this bitch where she could go with her attitude.

“We’ll see you at seven,” Gunner snapped, biting his tongue so he didn’t add anything rude to that statement.

“I—well I didn’t mean for you to come t—,” she began, but he didn’t bother to listen to her stuttering attempt to tell him he wasn’t invited and hung up. He really didn’t give a fuck if she wanted him there or not, if Margo was going to this dinner, then so was he. Margo walked out of her room looking like a vision in a pair of pale blue jeans that were tightly curved to her body and a light blue vest that hugged her breasts. Damn, she looked good but he glanced at the clock. Fuck, they didn’t have time for sex, not unless her mother’s was like five minutes from here.

“How far away is your mother’s place?” Gunner growled, stepping up to her, cupping her hips in his hands, as his mouth lowered towards hers. Her hand landed on his mouth stopping his lips from touching hers.

“Why are you asking me where she lives? I’m pretty sure we aren’t going to my mother’s,” She asked, her brow furrowing in confusion.

“She called and said we were supposed to be over there at seven for dinner.” Gunner replied, pulling her hand from his mouth. She glared at him, her scowl turning dark and Gunner cringed a little inside.

“Wait, you talked to my mother?” Margo took a step back from him, her hands landing on her hips. She looked angrier than she had when she’d accused him of sleeping around on her, which was disturbing.

“She called while you were in the shower. I was afraid she’d get worried that you weren’t answering after the fourth call, so I answered,” Gunner explained, his hand reaching up to brush a bit of hair off her forehead, his efforts earning a dark glower from her.

Margo let out a loud snort. “Yeah, Helen knows I ignore her calls, it would have been fine.”

“Well, I didn’t know that. You don’t talk about her and I didn’t know that you didn’t answer her calls frequently,” Gunner grunted.

“It’s fine,” Margo muttered, in a tone that stated loud and clear that it wasn’t really okay at all before she added, “I just don’t understand why you would tell her we’d come to her stupid dinner party without asking me first.”

“I didn’t tell her we’d show up, so much as she demanded you be there. I told her we would show up at the time she commanded.” Gunner stated, as he watched her frown and curse vehemently under her breath, shocking him. It was unusual for her to curse and typically it meant she was beyond angry. Gunner silently waited for her to speak again, noting that she looked a little pale.

“Well, isn’t this just fan-freaking-tastic,” Margo snorted.

“Sorry, babe.”

Margo shrugged and waved her hand in the air, as if telling him not to worry about it, but he didn’t like her being so upset. He couldn’t resist the urge to rid her of that look. He cupped her cheek forcing her head to tilt back, her eyes met his, allowing him to see the lost look in her eyes before his lips covered hers in a demanding kiss that brooked no argument. He left her panting and slightly limp when he pulled back to gaze down at her, his eyes dark and possessive. Her eyes were a little hazy and she was flushed, satisfying his inner neanderthal. Margo seemed to shake herself as she glanced up at the clock, her mouth tightening as she turned back to him.

“What time are we supposed to be there?”

“Seven,” he replied.

“Well, we had better get our butt’s in gear then. I wish I had time to explain what you’ve done by saying we would go to this party, but I don’t. I have a feeling that even if I did tell you how bad this is going to get, you still wouldn’t be prepared for the reality.” Margo shook her head looking grim as she checked the time again and sighed heavily. “It takes twenty minutes to get to mom’s place from here, but I need to change my clothes before we leave. While I do that, you need to go to your place and get your khakis—,” Margo didn’t get a chance to finish because he kissed her again, long and hard.

“What we’re wearing is fine, babe.”

“Um, no. Trust me it’s not,” Margo shot back, her eyes wide and her head swinging back and forth like it was on a swivel. 

“Well, I’m not changing and neither are you,” Gunner growled, anger spurting through him. Why was she so unhappy about going to her mother’s for dinner? He loved visiting with his mom, even though he hated when she wouldn’t shut up about his need to settle down. Her talking about him finding some fictional woman and having a dozen kids annoyed him, but visiting her didn’t set off a panicked reaction. Gunner didn’t like that she was pale and shaky when faced with her mother’s dinner party.

“I can’t wear this, Gunner,” Margo said, looking truly panicked at the prospect. “I have to at least change this shirt.”

Remembering the outfit her mother had stuffed her into the first time they met, he could see her shirt being a little risqué in her mother’s mind. He didn’t like her feeling like she needed to change in order to please her mother, but he understood.

“Fine, but just your shirt. You shouldn’t feel like you have to change who you are to go to your mom’s,” he grunted, his hands rubbing up and down her bare arms trying to soothe her. Margo snorted leaning into his arms for a minute before she stepped back.

“That’s likely true, but you haven’t met my mother yet, until you do, you can’t understand,” Margo muttered, as she headed into her bedroom to change. Gunner watched her disappear into her room with a strong feeling he wasn’t going to like her mother.