Page 57 of Old-Fashioned

Birdie snickered, “Abel, this is Mr. Anderson’s son, Michael. Michael, this is Abel.”

Michael looked at me, and I saw it on his face as something dawned, “Ah, so this is Abel?”

My eyes were on Birdie then, and when she blushed prettily, I couldn’t help but smirk.

The look on her face, well, that was all Michael needed to see.

Michael appeared crestfallen, but I could tell he really wasn’t, “Damn. I don’t stand a chance. I wouldn’t poach him from you. And my wife would be pissed if I tried to invite him into our playtimes and end up hurting you. Not to mention, Julia would kick my ass for messing with her Aunt Birdie.”

Birdie started laughing again, to which I muttered, “Now I feel like a fucking idiot.”

Michael laughed, “Don’t worry about it. You’re an alpha male and you were staking your claim. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

I nodded then I looked at Birdie, “Who is Mr. Anderson?”

“Miss Maggie’s lawyer.”

I nodded, “Gotcha.”

And then, I sat there with them, and ate my food that the waitress brought over, laughing alone with Birdie at Michael, and then vice versa. Needless to say, I had a pretty good time.

All the while I had my arm thrown over the back of the booth and was twirling a lock of Birdie’s hair between my fingers.

And my woman, not once did she get upset with me for crashing her dinner plans.

Damn.

Chapter 11

Birdie

Thursday nights at the bar weren’t really our busiest, which was why we often found ourselves huddled around the bar.

And I was looking forward to tonight because I had a good story to share.

It was a week later, after Michael headed back home, and yes, he visited the bar.

I had also watched Caelan’s kids for him, and yes… he wiped the floor with that piece of crap in the first round and within two minutes and seven seconds. The knockout punch was glorious.

Abel and I had seemed to only be able to handle those couple nights apart until we found ourselves either staying at my place or his.

He had a drawer and closet room, as well as a drawer in my bathroom.

But it would seem, that I had more at Abel’s. I had the whole right-side closet, my own dresser, my own counter space in his bedroom, and even places to put a few things around his house.

But it was what he had done for Ryker that really sent the point home, that he was who I was meant to be with.

Ryker had his own dog bed in the living room, the hallway, and the kitchen. That way, he always could lay down while having his eyes on me no matter where I was in the house.

Not to mention, his own bag of food, bowls, dog toys, and treats.

And since we had stayed at Abel’s last night, I had just climbed off his bike, took my helmet off, yes mine, and laid it on the bike.

Once I ran my fingers through my hair, Abel tagged my hand and led me to the employee’s entrance.

Then just as I was about to reach for the door, he growled at me, which caused me to stop, and give him that smile he told me a couple of days ago that brought him to his knees, “I can get my own door, Abel Black.”

I saw it, he fought it, and then he won, “Call me old fashioned but my woman doesn’t open her own door. She doesn’t open her own drink. She doesn’t take the trash out or mow the lawn. She doesn’t pay for shit. And don’t you ever try use that smile over me like that again, not when it comes to taking care of you.”

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