I lean over and kiss him. “There’s my bossy man.”
“I’m deadly serious, Birdie, and I’ll be calling you to make sure you’re out of there by three.”
He knows me too well. I may have said a few hours, but we both know I’m incapable of only working a few hours.
I grab my handbag and open the car door. “I don’t doubt it.”
He follows me inside the house. When we reach the kitchen, I place my bag on the counter and say, “Do you want some lunch before you head into the clubhouse?”
“No, I’ll grab something later.”
“We’ve got leftovers from dinner. I’ll pack it up for you to take.” IVF is expensive and we’re on a tight budget, so I like to make Winter lunch each day.
“I can do it, angel. You go and—”
“It won’t take me long.”
“Birdie,” he starts, his tone turning forceful. I know where he’s going with this and I don’t want it, so I cut him off again.
“Winter, let me care for you as much as you’re caring for me. Please.”
He stares at me quietly for a beat. Then, nodding, he says, “I’ve gotta make a few calls and then I’ll be leaving.”
I walk to him and slip my arms around his waist. “Thank you.” I know how hard it is for Winter not to assume total command and to accept help, so I know what it means when he relents and lets me care for him.
He cups the back of my head and kisses me. “I’ll be home early tonight.”
That’s his way of saying “clear your schedule for me,” and I love every one of those words. “I’ll be here.”
“Good,” he says before letting me go and exiting the kitchen.
I exhale more of the breath I’m still full of.
You’ve just gotta keep showing up.
You can do this.
I straighten my shoulders.
I can and I will do this.
3
Winter
* * *
“What time do you wanna leave for Ballarat tomorrow?” Ransom asks as I’m leaving to go home to Birdie. It’s been a long afternoon going over the club shit we’re dealing with, and all I wanna do is get home to my woman and shut the world out for the night.
“I’ll be here around eight in the morning. That work for you?” Ransom is a single dad, and I know some mornings aren’t good for early starts because he’s gotta drop his daughter at school.
“Yeah, sounds good.” He pauses for a moment before asking, “How’s Birdie?”
I keep very few secrets from my men, and while I don’t sit around discussing shit all day long, I’ve kept them in the loop on the fact Birdie and I are doing IVF because it’s going to impact on my work time. Because Ransom and I are close after serving together in the military, I give him the extended version of the answer to his question. “She’s anxious. Today’s fear is that her eggs won’t be any good.” Ransom’s sister has been through IVF, so he’s spent some time talking to me about the process and will understand Birdie’s fear.
“Janine went through that. Trust me, she’ll have something new to worry about soon enough.”
My phone rings and I see it’s King. “I gotta take this,” I say to Ransom. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
Stepping outside, I answer the call. “King.”
“You free at the end of the week? I’m setting up a meeting with Torres and I want you there.”
Javier Torres works for the Estrada Cartel, who King is negotiating with to supply Storm with coke. “Yeah. What day?”
He gives me the details and then says, “Come prepared, brother.”
Torres isn’t known for easy dealings, but as much as I know King would rather deal with someone else, Torres brings a lot to the table. Mostly, though, he brings a lot of fucking unpredictability, so going in fully prepared for anything is essential.
We end the call and I make my way to my bike, my mind turning over all the things I need to take care of this week. I’m going to have to rearrange some of it and maybe reschedule some things because it’s a busy week for the club, but I want to be home more than usual in case Birdie needs me.
Twenty minutes later, I pull into the driveway of our home and find Birdie in the front yard on the phone while pulling weeds from the rose garden she loves. She glances up at me and smiles as I walk her way. When I reach her, she grabs my shirt and stands on her toes to plant a kiss on my lips. “You’re home early,” she whispers while still listening to whoever is on the other end of the phone.
Jerking my chin at the phone, I ask, “Who’re you talking to?”
Still keeping hold of my shirt, she says into the phone, “Cleo, I have to go. My husband came home early and I need to break the bad news to him about what I did.”
Cleo says her goodbyes while I narrow my eyes at Birdie, wondering what she’s done that is bad enough to be deemed bad news. The last time I arrived home to this kind of news, she’d ripped our kitchen apart in our old house. Christ help me if she’s done something as extreme today; we’ve got enough on our plate.
“What have you done?” I ask as soon as she’s off the phone.
She presses herself to me and loops both hands around my neck. “How much do you love me?”
I place my hand on her ass. “I’m not answering that until I know what I’m up against here.”
Grinning, she says, “You make it sound so serious.”
“You’re saying it’s not?”
“It depends.”
“Fuck, Birdie, don’t keep me in suspense.”
“Well,” she starts, drawing it out, “it depends on how much you want a roast meal tonight versus how much you want me.”
“The answer to that question shouldn’t be one you even need to think about, angel.”
Her hands tighten around my neck. “I figured that, but things can change, so—”
I bend my mouth to hers and kiss her. “That will never change,” I say, growing hard for her. “What’s changed for you, though, between this morning and now?”
“I got out of my head when I went to work.”
“Thank fuck you went to work.”
“And to think you tried to boss me into not going.”
I scoop her into my arms, catching her off guard and eliciting one of her squeals of delight that I live for. Walking her inside, I say, “So the bad news is that there’s no roast meal tonight?”
“Yes.”
“Because you were conserving your energy for sex?”
“Correct again.”
“And there’s no other bad news?”
Her brows pull together in question. “No. Why?”
We pass the lounge room and then the kitchen, and I note that Birdie has cleaned them both to the point of spotlessness. This is something she does when she’s anxious. “Just making sure I’m not going to find any rooms in the house you’ve started renovating.”
She playfully smacks my chest. “You told me it was a good thing I started that kitchen reno.”