Tate

I poured a few inches of ice into the bottom of saddle bag, tied the top of the plastic grocery bag tight, and dropped it on top of the ice. After pouring the remaining ice over it, I tossed the empty ice bag inside and closed the lid.

Fifteen minutes of hard riding later, and I was at Bobbi’s apartment complex. I parked the bike at the street, got my groceries, and sauntered toward her building.

After going up one flight of steps, I walked down the landing to apartment 203. With a grocery bag dangling from my left hand, I rapped the knuckles of my right against the door.

It swung open.

Andy’s eyes went wide at the sight of me. “Tate. What a surprise,” he said, meaning every word of it.

The look on his face warned me that he had no intention of inviting me in. I didn’t want to cause him any more grief than I already had, so I made my purpose clear.

I hoisted the bag in front of me. “I’ve got Halo Top and some peaches. I thought we’d celebrate Bobbi getting her cookbook published. Want to join us?”

“Let me grab the brown sugar,” he said excitedly. “I’ll be right back.”

“I’ve got it in the bag.”

“What about the fat free Cool-Whip?”

“Got it.”

He stepped onto the landing, and then reached for the door handle, using his shirt as a makeshift glove.

“I’m so proud of her,” he said. “She did that on her own, you know.”

“I know. I hope it sells well.”

“I’m going to tell everyone I know about it.”

“I’ll do the same. Most of the people I know don’t care about calories, though.”

“By the time they realize they should, it’ll be too late.”

“You’re probably right,” I said.

We went up the next flight of stairs, and to apartment 302. Andy stepped in front of the peephole, kicked the door twice, and grinned.

Bobbi opened the door. The smell of fresh flowers wafted onto the landing.

Dressed in sweats and a sleeveless tee, she had her hair pulled into a ponytail. She looked surprised, embarrassed, and, above all, adorable.

“We came bearing gifts,” Andy said, ducking beneath her arm as he spoke.

She smiled. “Come in.”

Andy went straight to the kitchen. “Bring it all in here, Tate.”

“Sorry,” I whispered. “I had to.”

“What’s in the sack?”

“Bag.”

She scrunched her nose. “Huh?”

“It’s a bag, not a sack.”

“What’s in the bag?”

“Celebratory ice cream.”

“I can’t have ice cream.”

“It’s Halo Top.”

Her eyes shot wide. “You got Halo Top?”

“Three flavors.”

“You’re sweet.” She leaned forward and kissed me lightly. “What’s the celebration?”

The taste of her lipstick made me smile. “Your book.”

“Oh. Thank you.” She let out a heavy sigh. “That was exhausting. I don’t know how you do it.”

I carried the bag to the kitchen handed it to Andy. Ten minutes later, we were sitting around the kitchen table eating ice cream and peaches like a bunch of starving idiots.

Andy didn’t have so much as a morsel on his face. Neither did Bobbi, for that matter. I, on the other hand, had it from one end of me to the other.

“This shit is good,” I announced.

“Isn’t it?” Andy asked.

“It’s definitely not like the rest of low-cal snacks.” I looked at Bobbi. “Is it in your book?”

“It is.”

“What else?”

“The yogurt parfait.”

“How many points is it?”

“One.”

“What’s in it?”

“Low-fat Greek yogurt, strawberries, and blueberries. You can crumble a Nature Valley bar on top of it for a little fiber, but it adds four points.”

“I bet this book sells well.”

“Not as well as yours. You’re still in the top ten.”

“I read it,” Andy exclaimed.

I looked at him in disbelief. “What?”

He shoveled another massive bite into his mouth without getting anything on his face, and then nodded. “Bobbi said it wasn’t erotic, so I gave it a try. I cried like a baby. It’s a very good book, Tate.”

“Thank you. It was the last book in the series, and making it an erotic novel just didn’t make sense. Not for those particular characters.”

“Well, it was a great way to end any series.”

“It was a good close to that one, that’s for sure.”

“What’s next?” he asked.

“Another biker series. They seem to be well received.”

He scraped his bowl with the edge of his spoon. “Tattoos, muscles, guns, and knives?”

“I think this one will be more about looks and brains. A bunch of guys that think before they act. A little less testosterone, and a few more brains.”

“Sounds interesting.”

“Hope everyone else thinks so. Maybe the fast pace will hook ‘em.”

He looked at Bobbi. “How long has it been available?”

“The book?”

He pushed his bowl to the side and nodded.

“A couple of hours.”

“This is so exciting,” he said. “You’re a cookbook author!”

“I wrote down some recipes, and added a few pictures. I’m far from an author.”

“Well, you’re both authors in my book.”

The MC had eighteen members, total. I was as close to those men as I’d ever been to anyone, yet I rarely felt proud of them. As strange as it seemed to admit, pride wasn’t on the list of feelings I typically felt as a result of my exposure to them.

Acceptance, trust, and admiration were common, but pride wasn’t.

Feeling prideful toward another wasn’t a common thing, and it didn’t come easily. At least not for me.

I viewed pride in one’s own actions or accomplishments to be akin to arrogance. Pride in another person’s choices or actions was a matter of expressing praise. Caring enough about someone to allow myself to harbor such feelings was new to me.

But I wasn’t about to argue with how I felt.

I finished my ice cream, waited until Bobbi finished hers, and then collected the bowls. After placing them in the sink, I returned to the table.

I pulled the card I’d bought from my kutte and handed it to her.

She looked at the crumpled envelope and grinned. “What’s this?”

“It’s just something I got for you.”

“Can I open it now?”

“That’s why I gave it to you.”

“I was just checking, grump.”

She ran her nail along the edge of the envelope, opened it, and pulled out the card. After reading it, she set it aside and stood.

She didn’t speak, but she didn’t have to.

I stood, wrapped my arms around her, and held her close. As she lowered her head to my shoulder, I whispered into her ear.

“I’m proud of you, Baby.”

Saying those five words was much easier than I ever would have expected.

And far more rewarding.