Clay turns to set his coffee mug on the table and catches sight of the two of us and smiles, waving us over. “Darlin’! Come on over here and meet another helping hand. This here is Tinker, he set up some security around the place. I wanted to make sure you and your boy would be all set,” Clay says, inclining his head toward the other man.
“Heya sugar. Nice to meet ya,” Tinker says, flashing a disarming smile.
“Tinker? There’s a story behind that one. I can’t imagine your mother was that evil to saddle an innocent kid with that name,” I laugh.
“Oh, there ain’t nothing innocent about this idiot,” Clay chuckles.
“Hey, my ma’s a saint. But yeah, they call me Tinker cuz there ain’t a machine I can’t bend to my will and make do my bidding,” he says with a wink and a boyish smirk.
“Remind me to keep my laptop away from you. Nice to meet you though, Tinker. So how did you get roped into this?” I respond with a smile. He reminds me of the goofy little brother in every movie ever; I like him instantly.
“Yeah Tinkerbell, why’re you here?” Sawyer’s deep chuckle rolls into the room from behind me, the sound making the little hairs at the back of my neck stand on end.
God that laugh… I want to hear that in my ear as he… SAGGY BALLS! Goddamn woman keep it in your pants!
Ouch… Evan succeeds in slapping me with the airplane wing, plush as it is, something to the eyeball hurts. Thanks for the distraction little man.
“You know as well I do jackass. A Brother needs us, we come running. All part of a day’s work, little lady. Glad to do it, and it’s only a bonus I get to steal coffee from a sweet little thing like you,” Tinker says in his thick accent, giving me a wink just this side of suggestive.
“That’s twice I’ve heard that today; Brother?” I ask, cocking an eyebrow at him in question, wanting confirmation of my MC suspicions.
“We’re members of the Forsaken Sons Motorcycle Club, Darlin’,” Clay says, motioning for Tinker to turn and show the back of his leather vest with the large Club patch, that matches the one on Sawyer’s.
“Motorcycle Club? Like Sons of Anarchy?” I ask, not sure if I’m upset or excited that I was right. I may or may not have been a huge fan of the show when it was on the air, and I also may or may not have an addiction to romance novels staring hunky, bad boy bikers. I see Clay roll his eyes and the other two chuckle, shaking their heads at my question.
“Yeah, something like that,” Sawyer says walking further into the room from around me. “Except I ain’t no Jax, I’m the real thing, Babydoll,” he growls, his lips brushing the shell of my ear as he passes. My eyes go wide in shock as he settles himself against the counter next to Tinker. Sawyer steals the coffee mug from his Brother’s hand and takes a swig from it, shooting me a wink.
“That explains the Cuts,” I say, but after a beat I wilt a little and whisper to Clay, “they are called ‘Cuts’ right?”
Clay barks out a laugh and nods as Tinker chokes on the coffee he stole back from Sawyer. The cocky bastard smacks Tinker on the back while staring at me, his eyes bright with amusement. I feel another deep blush creep up my neck and turn to nuzzle a kiss to the side of Evan’s face, trying to hide my reaction from the men. He promptly screeches in my ear to join in on the laughter.
Clay clears his throat, drawing our attention again. “Well, Darlin’, you need help bringing anything in from the car? We can help with any of that and then leave you and your boy to get settled. No need to have a bunch of burly sacks of meat hanging about, stinking up the place,” as he motions to Sawyer and Tinker.
I wouldn’t mind having a bit of his man meat…. Oh holy fuck! Get ahold of yourself you wanton little hussy!
“Hey! I will have you know I always smell delightful,” Tinker supplies with a grin.
“Yeah, be sure to tell that to Roxy’s plants in the office next time they wither and die when you take your shoes off,” Clay says, smacking Tinker upside the head as the younger man saunters past on his way to the back door. Clay follows him out back to the driveway. In a daze I turn back to Sawyer who is still leaning against the counter, his ankles crossed and hands in his pockets and I get the distinct feeling he is sizing me up. I meet his gaze for as long as I can, until it turns awkward. Thankfully Evan squirms in my arms and gives me an excuse to turn away without relenting, technically. I bounce him on my hip and give him his pacifier again before I turn back to Sawyer and offer a tentative smile.
“Thank you for helping us. I’m sure you had better things to do than fight with a mobile all afternoon,” I say, giving him a teasing grin.
“Babydoll, no worries. Though I almost lost a finger to that damned thing.”
“Well I’ll just have to make it up to you,” I all but purr back.
Wait WHAT? Did you just PURR at Mr. Tie-Me-Up-Tie-Me-Down?? Shit.
My jaw snaps audibly shut as I attempt to stop any further stupidity from leaking out; luckily his smile falters and he looks away from my rising embarrassment. He clears his throat and looks back at me quickly, offering a much smaller smile than he had been sporting before my thirsty outburst.
“Well, I should… uh, I’ll go help the Brothers finish up and get outta your hair,” he says, meeting my eyes for only a moment before looking away again and clearing his throat. He looks around, seeming to look everywhere but at me before giving a little nod and rushing from the room.
Well done you twat. That’s one way to solve your panty melting issues, scare the poor man away.
I kick myself as I watch him practically scurry away, letting the screen door slam behind him as he clears it.
At least I won’t have to see him again. That’s something right?
Chapter 6
Sawyer
If there’s one thing I hate about living in Minnesota it’s the weather. Seriously. It’s April. When will this winter just let up and die already? It snowed two days ago, but I haven’t been back to my house in over two weeks. Axel and Gage have been up my ass since my little bender and the disagreement at the bar.
Pushing around this slop, that’s somehow both snow and puddle at the same time, on my front walk is exactly what I want to be doing at the ass crack of dawn. It’s probably all gonna melt before I’m even back from tomorrow’s run, that or it’ll freeze into a goddamn skating rink. Seriously, fuck Minnesota weather right up its frozen, temperamental slushy ass.
I like to keep my place nice; a man should take pride in what he owns. It’s great to have a room at the compound, but after spending so much time alone on the road, I’ve gotten accustomed to my space, to the quiet of a room and the humming of the furnace. I love my Brothers, but I don’t need to hear their nasty ass grunts and groans when they plow their way through the club whores on any given night.
I’m about halfway down the sidewalk in front of my little two-story, my jeans soaked to the knees over my pathetic excuse for snow boots, wading through this damn half-frozen soup when I hear a screen door slam echo down the quiet street. Another headache from these interminable winters, the dampeners on these cheap doors always go to shit. I look up, unconsciously searching for the crappy door when I see a bright flash of teal across the street.