Page 110 of Cook

“It’s all good, Maddie,” I murmured and dropped the hammer on the patio chair.

The three motorcycles rolled to a stop outside of my house. Wilde was the first to sling his leg off while Bou stayed seated and worked her leg over the seat. I supposed, with her belly, she couldn’t lean forward far enough to kick her leg back. Then, idly, I wondered why the fuck Wilde still let her ride on her own. I wasn’t her old man, just a wannabe older brother. I would leave chiding Bou to Wilde and Celt.

But if that were Maddie, she would be in my Bronco rather than speeding down the desert roads in the open air. I cut my eyes back to her, then scolded myself for the passing thought. Not a goddamn chance she’d be pregnant.

The last motorcycle with two riders came to a stop and cut the engine: Angel and Melanie. I sucked my teeth and tried to act like thiswas nothing. The last thing I wanted was to go on high alert and send Maddie into a downward spiral.

Did Maddie recognize her sister?

Angel—that bastard—ignored what I’d told him. Maddie needed time, not Melanie trying to force a relationship on her. Maddie had no clue how to be a sister, and from what I’d seen so far, she acted on feral instinct in most situations, aside from when we were alone.

Focusing on Bou, I asked, “Are you going to be installing car seats for the motorcycle?”

Bou laughed, flipping one of her braids over her shoulder. “We’ll give the kid a couple of years.”

“We bought a truck,” added Wilde in a low gruff.

“Ah.” I inclined my head and looked at the others approaching, pinning Angel with a glare.

“Maddie?” asked Melanie, stepping closer. I hated the fact that she was a carbon copy of Maddie, only broader and harder from spending time at the gym.

My girl plastered herself to my back. So much for her shower.

Angel lingered at his ol’ lady’s side, stripping a band from his hair and letting the fucking Vidal Sassoon commercial roll as he shook out the silky locks. Though he was muscled, tatted, and tough as shit, dude was too pretty—and goth—for my liking.

I released a low warning growl.

Maddie had tightened her hands plastered on my bare back. Her fingers felt like fire on my already hot skin. Her ragged breathing beat against me. She wasn’t shaking—yet—but I wasn’t working her into Melanie and Angel. Based on how Maddie acted with Celt and Roni yesterday and around Wilde, she wasn’t ready to face this many people.

“Cook,” Wilde snapped.

What did Prez want? Balling my hands into fists, I waited back on my heels. I wasn’t about to move and take away Maddie’s shield.

“Wilde,” said Bou in a warning voice, but he waved her off, as if to say,I got this.

Stalking toward the edge of the porch, Wilde shoved his handsin his denim pockets. His cut pushing out to the sides and the tats down his arms darkening in the sun. He appraised my work for several moments.

“Gonna need you to start thinkin’ with this head.” He tapped his temple.

I took a step back, angling Maddie toward the front door.

“This shit stops now,” Prez continued.

“Awesome. See you on the flip side then,” I said, motioning for them to leave.

Wilde scraped a hand over his skull cut. “Man, you’ve never been like this.”

“Like what?” I gritted out.

“Distant.”

“Protective,” Bou offered.

I couldn’t yell at a pregnant woman who was like my little sis. “Never had a reason,” I said to her.

“Shit, man.” Wilde scoffed. “We got your back. MC means brotherhood. Remember?”

I wanted to snap back at him that none of these so-calledbrotherswere doing shit for Maddie, but first, I didn’t have a death wish. Second, Maddie didn’t need to witness us going at each other. They just needed to get the fuck off my land.

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