Margo walked towards the door with a sense of doom wiggling like worms inside her belly. Since they left her apartment, she’d been trying to calm down, but she wasn’t succeeding. Gunner’s hand on her lower back helped, but not much. Gunner had no idea why she was freaking out over this dinner and he’d said as much, several times before they’d left the apartment. How did you tell the man you were falling in love with that your mother thought you were useless?

More importantly, how was she going to make it through another dinner with her mother and whatever lackluster men she’d chosen to try to set her up with. Gunner wasn’t going to be too happy when he discovered that was exactly why her mother had insisted she be here. Helen saw these parties as a way to try and marry Margo off to any man—she’d chosen—who would take her. She was sure her mother wished it was still the eighteen hundreds when you could sell your daughter to the highest bidder. Gunner had no idea what he was walking into and she wasn’t going to explain that her mother thought she was worthless. Her only value to Helen involved grandchildren—which Margo couldn’t give her.

Margo was glad that she couldn’t have kids every time her mother talked about molding her grandchildren in her image, because they would never have to be exposed to their grandmother’s disapproval. She didn’t like the idea of her child having to experience the bitter nature of Helen Dexter. Smoothing her shirt, she tried to compose herself before they went inside Margo took a deep breath, wondering if she should warn Gunner. Margo didn’t fool herself into thinking if she’d brought an unapproved man to this dinner party that it would stop her mother from trying to set her up with whoever she’d chosen for Margo.

She knew better, and as they neared the door she decided to try one more time to convince him that they should just get back on his bike and leave.

“Just a warning, this isn’t going to go well,” Margo cautioned.

“It will be fine, babe,” Gunner said, not realizing how close this dinner was going to be to a night spent in hell. After being away from him for a week, she’d hoped for a blissfully satisfying night, instead she was getting dinner at her mother’s.

Why did her life suck sometimes?

Gunner rang the doorbell at five-past seven, making them officially late, which would start this dinner off on a sour note. She wasn’t pleased she’d be getting the sharper edge of her mother’s tongue tonight. It took about three minutes for her mother to make her way to the door and open it. For every second of those three minutes, Margo hoped Gunner would change his mind about this ridiculous idea to meet her mother. Before she could plead with him again to leave, the door swung open revealing Helen wearing a dark scowl. Her mother was wearing a long blue dress that was cinched at the waist with pearls and high heels, making Margo inhale deeply. Crap, this was going to be worse than she’d thought.

Any time Helen broke out the pearls, she was trying to impress the man she’d chosen to be the bait in her trap. Margo wanted to turn tail and run, but she felt Gunner’s hand on her lower back almost as if he knew what she was thinking and was warning her he wouldn’t let her do it. Margo swallowed hard and stiffened her spine, meeting her mother’s disapproving gaze. Helen looked Margo up and down shaking her head in dismay, her glare torrid.

“I can’t believe you're wearing that outfit. You didn’t have a decent dress to put on? You look like a streetwalker in that revealing get-up.” Helen folded her hands at her waist looking down darkly at Margo’s shoes. “Are those flip-flops? Really, Margo, would it kill you to wear something that wouldn’t embarrass me just once when I invite you over?”

Margo could feel the scalding disapproval that poured off her mother as Helen glared at her. Margo clenched her teeth, her hands balling into fists because she wasn’t wearing flip-flops, nor was her outfit revealing in any way. She was wearing jeans like Gunner had insisted, paired with her long sleeved white top that covered her modestly and flared out at the hips. Her shoes were white sandals with a small heel that were classy and understated, but hardly looked like flip-flops. She felt Gunner tense behind her, he wasn’t too pleased with her mother’s clear disapproval. Her mother had basically just told her she looked like a common whore, and from the growl Gunner released when she’d said that, he wasn’t too pleased by the comment.

“If you want us to leave, we can,” Margo told her, not in the mood to allow Helen to rip her to shreds. It was one of the reasons she hated visiting or asking her mother for help. Helen felt it was her right to pick away at Margo’s confidence. No matter how hard she tried to ignore Helen’s comments and hard-hearted lack of respect for her only living daughter, it still got under her skin plucking at the confidence she had struggled for years to build.

“Margo, stop being so rude. You know it would be embarrassing for me if my daughter didn’t show up after I told everyone you would be here tonight. I have something for you to change into because I knew you’d show up wearing something inappropriate. You’ll need to remove all that jewelry too because it’s too loud. What possesses you to wear neon green jewelry?” Helen continued, ignoring another dark growl from Gunner. His hand gripped Margo’s arm firmly, and Margo felt her cheeks heat as she wondered what Gunner was thinking. She knew that most people didn’t understand her love of color and she had never asked him if the way she dressed bothered him.

“She isn’t changing her clothing,” Gunner stated, his voice hard in a way that brooked no argument form anyone with half a brain cell. His tone and the way he darkly scowled at Helen, made Margo’s sinking confidence resurface.

“I don’t believe I asked you, young man. I can’t say that I’m surprised that you’re as useless looking as I expected. I don’t know why she always chooses losers to date,” Helen sneered, her eyes flashing up and down Gunner’s plain blue t-shirt and worn blue jeans. Margo had warned him that they should stop and get a change of clothes for him, but he’d refused.

“I won’t say this again, ma’am. She isn’t changing and it’s not up for discussion and if you can’t deal with that then we can leave, otherwise, let’s go inside.” Margo was impressed by his restraint because she knew it was taking everything he had to stop himself from telling her mother to go to hell in a handbasket. 

“Well, I can see she is dating a savage. I should have known that from our phone conversation that you’d be just as bad-mannered in person as you were on the phone. After all, you did invite yourself to my dinner party, which is extremely rude I’ll have you know,” Helen accused, her back straightening as she drew herself up, glaring at Gunner.

“Mother, let’s just go in. You don’t want to keep your guests waiting,” Margo chided, trying to stop the fight her mother was going to get if she kept baiting Gunner. Sending a dark look in Gunner’s direction Helen nodded once and motioned them inside.

Margo let out a breath as they followed behind her mother. She led them down the hall to the fashionable dining room set up with eight chairs. Taking in the room, Margo wanted to groan when she saw who else her mother had invited to this dinner besides her. Five people were sitting at the table and they all turned to look at her and Gunner in the doorway as they entered. It wasn’t surprising that Helen had invited the Bakers. Libby and Cathy Baker were sisters and likely almost as poisonous as her mother was and they’d both hated her since high school. They were twins, and their idea of fun was pulling her dress up in front of half the freshman class back then. Now they settled for snide remarks about her attire and how fat she’d gotten since they last saw her. When their eyes landed on her they both sneered and eyed her outfit with disgust. She wasn’t surprised that Gunner received tittering laughs and flirty little smiles when they moved their gazes to him. Margo ignored them, smiling at Mike Baker, who wasn’t actually a bad guy. He’d always been nice to her and he was about five years older than his sisters. She looked up noting that Mrs. Baker was glaring at her for smiling at her son. Margo swallowed hard, trying not to let the nauseated feeling get the best of her. She glanced at the fifth and final guest, the sick feeling in her stomach intensifying. The man sitting with his back to her had turned towards them eliciting a low moan from her as she realized who her mother was still trying to set her up with.

Damn it, why did her mother invite Kevin?

Actually, she already knew the answer to her silent question. Kevin was part of the church her mother attended and his idea of proper was almost as rigid as Helen’s, which meant he was considered a prime candidate for Margo to marry. Margo almost snorted out loud when that thought passed through her head because that would be a cold day in hell, that was for damned sure.

She hated the little weasel and she really did wonder if he was a child molester or not. He was very involved with the younger kids at the church and she’d always gotten a creepy vibe from him. Maybe it was just the fact that her mother had been trying to shove Kevin her way for the past year as a possible husband, but she didn’t like him at all. She didn’t know why, but she did know she hated him and silently she’d always referred to him as the weasel.

Kevin frowned at her as he took in her clothing, likely thinking along the same lines as her mother did about her attire, not that she cared. Gunner placed his hand on her hip in a possessive caress that made her feel slightly less dismayed at the guests her mother had invited.

“You all remember Margo, my daughter, and this is—sorry not sure what your name is,” Helen sneered, letting him and everyone else know that he wasn’t important enough for her to actually care who he was, as she moved over to the head of the table.

“Gunner Jones, Margo’s boyfriend,” Gunner stated firmly, his eyes cold as he took in the seating arrangements noting that there weren’t two chairs together. Margo had already made that horrifying discovery. There was one chair next to Libby and another one beside Kevin. Margo planned to take the seat beside Libby, unwilling to sit close to Kevin. She took a step forward to head around the table and take the seat beside Libby. Gunner caught her arm, stopping her from moving around the table, Margo looked up at him questioningly.

“I think perhaps some seating rearrangements are in order, because Margo and I need to sit together,” Gunner barked, his eyes narrowed in her mother’s direction.

“I’m quite sure that Margo can sit between Mike and Kevin, while you sit across from her beside Libby,” Helen rudely stated as she took her seat at the head of the table.

Margo could hear Gunner’s teeth grinding as he attempted to stay silent. She felt the heat rise to her cheeks, embarrassed that her mother was being so rude to both her and Gunner in front of these people, not that she cared what any of them thought of her. She was about to whisper to Gunner that he should just sit beside Kevin, when Mike suddenly rose from his chair. He turned to look at her and Gunner, his brown hair falling into his eyes as he offered Margo his chair.

“I’ll sit by my sister so you two can sit together,” Mike said, grinning as he moved around the table to take his seat after sending her a little wink, reminding her why she liked him. He had never made her feel like she wasn’t worthy of his respect unlike most of the men her mother tried to push her off on. Helen had a knack for picking out losers for Margo, who thought she should change everything about herself in order to please them.

Gunner grunted and allowed her to sit down in the seat furthest from Kevin, as he took the seat beside him. Margo began playing with her napkin, her nerves strung tight as she waited on her mother’s reaction to this sudden change. If she knew one thing about Helen, it was that she liked getting her way, and when she didn’t, her tongue became sharper than a knife. Gunner settled back in the chair, his large frame taking up a lot of space at the crowded table. He reached out taking her hand in his when he noticed her fidgeting. He laced his fingers with hers before he pulled her hand under the table, resting it on his knee. His thumb began to rub over the back of her hand in a soothing gesture. Surprisingly, it helped her to calm down as her mother uncovered the food and the bowls began to circle the table.

 

 

It was all he could do to stay calm as he rubbed Margo’s hand under the table. Since they’d entered the house, Margo’s mother had been systematically tearing Margo to shreds, and he was ready to murder her after only twenty minutes. It didn’t help that the annoying little shit from the picnic was Helen’s obvious choice for Margo. He could read between the lines that she thought her daughter should date that shifty mother fucker instead of him. Gunner hadn’t expected to be instantly disliked by her mother. Maybe after she’d discovered he was with the club, but not from the moment they met. He’d been prepared to convince her mother that he was good enough for her daughter. He’d never thought that Margo’s mother would find her lacking in any way. He was still shocked by the way she talked to her daughter. He supposed he should have expected her to be a bitch after their phone conversation.

He watched as the food was uncovered and the bowls were passed around. He couldn’t help but note the way Margo only put a very small spoonful of mashed potatoes on her plate. He frowned because he knew they were her favorite. It was odd that she got such a small potion instead of her usual liberal amount. He noticed that she kept glancing at her mother before putting food on her plate. Helen was basically ignoring her as she spoke to the older woman next to her, but Margo kept watching her. Gunner took the bowl from her and instead of placing the large spoonful on his own plate, he politely put the mashed potatoes on her plate. She jerked her head in his direction and he nodded before putting twice the amount on his own plate.

Margo didn’t skimp on the rest of her food after he did the same with the gravy and green beans. After that, she just put what he would consider, a normal amount of food on her plate, sending satisfaction roaring through him. Kevin, the little weasel who annoyed the fuck out of him, was talking almost non-stop in that whiny, almost shrill voice of his about how he’d rescued some children overseas by bringing them the word of God when he was away on a mission trip to Africa. Gunner had a feeling the food and fresh water they’d brought with them on that trip had more to do with saving the children than the word of God did. He kept his mouth shut on the subject by keeping a close eye on Margo and her expressions. It was the reason he caught how her face reddened and her eyes clouded when her mother saw her plate, sending a furious need to murder Helen Dexter coursing through him.

“Margo, how many times do I have to tell you that salad is better when you’re on a diet.” Helen Dexter glared disapprovingly at Margo’s plate.

Gunner gripped the tables edge trying not to yell at the bitch because there wasn’t any reason Margo should be on a diet. It would actually be a bad idea for Margo to cut any of the calories she ate because half the time she forgot to even bother. It was part of the reason he’d told Bunny to continue delivering her meals, even after they broke up. Sure, she had love handles on her hips, a slightly curved belly, and some extra jiggle to her wiggle, but nothing that would warrant a diet. He loved every inch of her body and had been sure to show her just how much while they were dating.

“Oh yes, and you should join our extreme aerobics class, Margo. It’s helped me shed twenty pounds.” Libby said from across the table. Gunner glanced at the skinny woman with narrow sharp cheek bones, flat almost non-existent breasts, and thin almost gangly arms, wondering why in the hell she’d be proud that she looked like a teenaged boy.

“I think that’s an excellent idea for Margo.” The little weasel beside him said, making Gunner drop his fork on his plate. He was really starting to get why Margo hadn’t wanted to come here. How could these assholes not realize that they were being rude?

“I don’t know, it seems a little extreme to work out for three hours without a break. I would say Margo is fine just the way she is,” Mike—who’d pissed Gunner off by winking at Margo—said, earning a little respect from him. “Anyone hear about that plane that crashed a week ago? I wonder if they ever discovered what happened to make it crash.”

It was obvious he was trying to steer the conversation away from Margo and despite winking at Gunner’s woman, he seemed like a decent guy. Gunner watched as Margo picked at her food, feeling like an ass for bringing her here when she’d insisted they shouldn’t come. He’d assumed it was an attempt to avoid introducing her biker boyfriend to her mother, but he was quickly realizing that it had nothing to do to with introducing him to her mother and had everything to do with the way she was treated by her mother. He’d never heard so many sly insults and veiled disgusts, since they’d tried to make peace with the Tricky Dicks a few years ago. 

“Margo, did you read that pamphlet I sent to you last week in the mail about that fat camp with the ninety percent success rate?” her mother asked, ignoring Mike’s attempt to change the subject.

Gunner’s fork hit his plate, this time with an audible clang as he stood up abruptly. He moved to stand behind Margo’s chair, pulling it out. He then turned to Helen, with a cold look he hoped she understood, because he wasn’t above slapping her if she insulted Margo again.

“I just remembered something we need to handle, so we will be leaving now,” Gunner grunted, with particular emphasis on the now portion of his statement.

“But—but we’re in the middle of dinner and you haven’t finished eating,” her mother said.

“I’ve had all I can stomach of dinner, thanks.” Gunner cupped Margo’s elbow and helped her to her feet when she didn’t seem to want to move fast enough. He needed to get out of this house and away from this woman before he murdered her. He’d had enough of her insulting Margo to last a lifetime.

“You’re being rude, young man,” Helen accused, standing up.

“Yeah, I’m not the rude one,” Gunner seethed, as he began to guide Margo out of the room with a gentle hand on her back. His back was stiff and his hands were aching from where he’d been clenching the table and his fork while he tried hard to sit there and ignore the way they hurt Margo. He should have listened to her and not brought her here, because he now felt like a dick for thinking she just didn’t want to introduce him to her mother.

Gunner knew she had a soft heart and the things they’d said pulled at the confidence she’d managed to build, despite her mother’s obvious mistreatment of her. He would bet that her mother’s criticism the day she’d been stranded was the reason that she’d accused him of cheating on her a week ago. Her confidence would have been shredded after spending hours listening to her mother’s insults. It made him want to put his fist through a wall that he hadn’t been there for her. He also understood a bit more why she needed someone who put her needs first, because her mother obviously never had. If Gunner had his way, he’d make damned sure Margo never saw this poisonous woman again, even if she was her mother.

“We can stay, Gunner, it’s fine,” Margo offered, as they stepped into the hallway.

“No babe, it’s not fine and if we don’t leave, this is going to get ugly.” Gunner was gritting his teeth as he spoke and he noticed that Margo didn’t argue with him again. She’d likely only protested because she thought she should, not because she wanted to stay here. She was pale and her hands were slightly shaky as he reached out and took one into his own. She let out a little sigh of relief when they walked out the door letting him know he’d made the right choice in getting her out of there. As he climbed on his bike and felt her arms wrap around him, he allowed some of the tension to leave him. When she was settled, he kicked the bike into gear and headed towards his restaurant. He was going to order her every fattening thing on the menu just to make up for those assholes they’d just left. Margo wasn’t fat, she was perfect and anyone who thought she wasn’t, was an idiot.