Chapter Thirteen
Van
I’m sitting in the living room, picking on my guitar, bored out of my fucking mind. Being stuck in the house all the time is killing me. Usually, I’m at the clubhouse anytime Cline is at her mom’s. With Ronni here, that’s not gonna happen. Normally, I would take her over there to hang out, but I can’t do that right now.
There was a huge charity run in Indy last weekend, raising money for a member of a local club. His son has leukemia, and bikers came out of the woodwork to help him pay for the kid’s treatment. If Ronni hadn’t been here, I would have been right by their side.
We opened the clubhouse to a club out of Kentucky, one that currently runs guns for us. We agreed to put their boys up for the run. Of course, that night turned into another then another. The boys are having too much fun drinking our liquor and fucking our whores to head home. I’d be pissed if we wouldn’t be doing the same thing at their club.
The plan for them to come down was made weeks before we found out about the shit going down with Ronni. By the time we knew what was going on, it was too late to change our minds. At least, we couldn’t change our minds without their crew wondering what the fuck is going down, and we don’t want anyone asking questions.
Ronni walks into the living room with Denver right on her heels and plops down beside me, letting out a large sigh. He lays by her feet, almost mimicking his owner’s sound.
“I’m losing my freaking mind.” She leans against the back of the couch with a groan.
“Something wrong?” I ask, cracking a smile.
It’s been three days since Cline left. In that time, I’ve gotten to know Ronni on a different level. Before, all her attention was on my little girl. Now, she is focusing it all on me. With any other woman, I’d feel smothered. With her, it somehow feels right. The only problem is, being around her so much is making me want her even more.
“Yeah, something’s wrong.” Ronni looks over at me, rolling her eyes. “I’m bored. Without Cline here, I haven’t got anything to do.”
“She’ll be back the day after we get home from Tennessee,” I say, setting my guitar back in its case and pushing it under the couch.
“I wish it was tomorrow, already,” she whines, leaning into my side and laying her head on my arm.
When I told her that we wouldn’t be going until Thursday, she didn’t like it at all. If it were up to Ronni, we’d have left right after Cline did and stayed until she came back home.
“You’ve made it through three days so far. I think you’ll be fine for one more.” I’m not sure what else to say.
I’m leaving Ram in charge in my absence since Brass and Taz will be with us. I made sure he knew what was required of him, including watching over Ronni’s dog. I’d rather leave Walker in control of the club, but he’s still in Vegas. Hopefully, he’ll be back with Miles by the time we get home.
This is probably the worst time for us to be going anywhere. If it wasn’t for the fact that we’re taking Ronni with us, I’d be glad to be going away for a few days. There are just too many unknowns there. When she’s in the house, I can keep my eyes on her, make sure she is safe. When we get there, I won’t know who I can trust with her.
“I’m excited to hang out with Trix and the girls,” she says, sounding only a hint less whiney. “But that still doesn’t make me any less bored right now.”
I’m still in shock that Tito took her with him to the other club. He hasn’t let her step foot in ours, but he takes her to other clubs. It just doesn’t make any sense. Then again, my mom wasn’t at the other clubs to pull her shit.
Deciding it’s time for a subject change, I ask, “If you were at home, what would you be doing right now?”
Ronni glances over at the clock and answers. “This time of day, I’d be at work at the restaurant. I’d be sweating my ass off, cooking for hundreds of people.”
Suddenly, I realize she has never mentioned where she worked at before. Then again, I have never asked her. In fact, I’ve done my best not to ask anything about her life. Knowing that she grew up with money, I didn’t want to hear about it. Considering the few things she has let slip, I should have known she left that life behind her.
“You like working at the restaurant?” I ask, honestly interested.
“I should. It’s one of the best restaurants in Chicago. Hell, it’s one of the best in the world. The executive chef is a James Beard nominee and has two Michelin stars. Just working with him is a privilege.” She chews on her bottom lip for a few seconds before going on. “But, I’m getting tired of it. I spend all my time following someone else’s recipes, making the same shit over and over. I want to cook my own food.”
Thinking about all the time she spends in the kitchen, the smile she has on her face when she does, I ask, “You really love cooking, don’t you?”
“Cooking is my passion. I’ve loved it since I was a little girl,” she says, cuddling closer to me. “Mom never wanted me around, so I spent all my time with the cook. Georgia didn’t mind having me around. She actually treated me like I was more than just a burden. It’s the only time I felt like I was loved—at least when my dad wasn’t around.”
I try to ignore the pain in her eyes when she talks about her childhood, not wanting to think about why it makes me so angry. Instead, I focus on how different our lives were. I can’t imagine growing up with a cook. My mom wasn’t going to waste her time in front of a stove, and we definitely didn’t have the money to hire someone to do it. Our meals consisted of whatever the old ladies at the clubhouse fixed, greasy take-out, or something that could be nuked in the microwave.
When I don’t say anything, she continues on with her story. “When Mom and Timothy sent me to boarding school, I missed cooking with Georgia more than anything. By that time, I knew I wanted to be a chef, but they sure in the hell didn’t offer cooking classes. Sure, they show you how to set a table the correct way and drone on and on about table manners, but they don’t even teach the basics of meal prep. So, I improvised and got a hot plate and a toaster oven. I’d cook whole meals in my room.”
I lean back and wrap my arm around her, unable to stop myself from touching her. “Why did you go to boarding school?”
I can’t imagine sending Cline away to school. I don’t even want to imagine it. Not having my little girl with me would kill me. Fuck, when she was only here every other weekend, it damn near gutted me.
Ronni looks over at me, her brown eyes full of shadows. “I wasn’t living up to my full potential, at least not where they were concerned. They hoped being in boarding school would help me see the error of my ways.”
I remember when she was first sent to the school. Tito threw a fucking fit, saying she was too damn young to be all on her own. If I’m not wrong, she was only a few years older than Cline is now. I can’t even fathom putting that much pressure on my daughter.
“What I really want to do is own my own restaurant. It doesn’t have to be fancy, just something I can call my own,” she confesses, purposely changing the conversation. “At the very least, I want to be an executive chef, so I can cook the food I want.”
“If you want your own restaurant, then do what you’ve gotta do to get it,” I tell her, knowing my next words are going to piss her off. “Your mom and stepdad never did shit for you, so let them do this. Use some of your inheritance and get your dream.”
“No way,” she says, shaking her head. “I can’t do that. Even if I was starving to death, I wouldn’t use that money to buy myself a loaf of bread.”
Those assholes must have really fucked with her head for her to be so adamant about not wanting the money. I can understand that, but she really needs to think about her future. No use losing the only chance she may ever get to have what she wants.
I start to argue my point, but she cuts me off with a shake of her head and pulls away. “Not gonna happen. I have a plan, though.”
When she doesn’t say anything for a second, I ask, “You gonna tell me about it?”
“My grandmother, Mom’s mom, left me some jewelry. Mom never told me. I didn’t know a thing about it until after she died,” she says, looking at me for my reaction. “It’s worth nearly a quarter of a million dollars combined, and I think I’m going to sell it. Since it wasn’t ever really my mom’s, I don’t feel as bad about using it.”
I do my best to keep my face passive, not wanting her to see my shock. Again, I am reminded of how different our backgrounds are. I can’t even imagine what a quarter of a million dollars’ worth of jewelry looks like or how one woman could own that much.
“If that’s what you wanna do, then do it,” I say with a shrug. “If your grandma left it to you, I’m sure she would want you to get some enjoyment out of it.”
She laughs, a laugh that sounds uncharacteristically bitter. “I never met her, but I doubt it. She raised my mother, so she was probably an uptight bitch, too.”
Before I can reply, my phone beeps. I pull it out of my pocket and look down. Brass’s name flashes across the screen with a text that lets me know the visiting club is gone. I look back to Ronni as I push my phone back in my pocket. Seeing a darkness in her beautiful brown eyes, I know I have to do something to change that.
“With all this talk about cooking, my ass is getting hungry. You need to go make me some fucking brownies,” I order, knowing it will get a rise out of her.
“Go fix your own damn brownies. Better yet, fix brownies for the both of us. I’ve been cooking for you for over a week. I think it’s time you made something for me,” she orders back, crossing her arms over her chest, drawing my attention to her perfect tits.
“Trust me, darlin’, you don’t want to eat anything I cook. I can grill the hell out of a steak, but that’s about it. If it’s not steak, I’m not putting anything I cook anywhere near my mouth.” I tell her the God’s honest truth, ignoring the fact that her tits are the only thing I want in my mouth at this moment.
Ronni gets an odd look on her face, followed by a big grin. “I’ll make a deal with you. You grill us some steaks, and I’ll make you some brownies for dessert.”
“I can do that,” I reply, with a nod. “I’ll sweeten the deal even further. After we eat, we can go hang out at the clubhouse, get us a few drinks.”
Ronni jumps up off the couch, her body vibrating with excitement, causing Denver to sit up and let out a bark. “Hell yes! That’s the best idea I’ve heard in a while.”
I keep my eyes trained on her ass while she walks out of the room. It’s a thing of pure fucking beauty that has my cock standing at attention. As soon as she is out of my sight, I reach down and give it squeeze, mentally willing it to go down. When the fucker just thumps against my hand, I know I’m in trouble. There is no fucking way am I gonna make it the next two and a half weeks until Tito gets out of jail. I will be sinking deep inside her sweet body sooner or later.