Page 69 of Cook

Then again, Maddie wasnotmy ol’ lady.

I swallowed... and nodded. “Didn’t expect her to require so much—how do I put it? Research?”

Studying in school had never been my thing. College, no matter what Mom wanted, had been out of the question. From before I shot Daddy, I’d been sure what I would end up doing for a living.

The Ridge had border patrol—a cover we used for running drugs between Mexico and the rest of the Southwest. The MC dealt in Mary Jane and had a few farmers in town, but we imported a lot. And for the stronger shit, we charged a border crossing fee. Cash only. Part of that fee went to the U.S. government to keep our books on the up and up. The rest, except for the dues paid to Rex, lined our pockets.

Our new MC was slowly taking over that biz.

“What kind of research?” Celt paused at his bike and pulled a shirt from his saddlebags.

He held out his cut for me to hold and then shoved his arms into the white cotton tee.

“How to be a Daddy,” I blurted without thought.

Celt froze with his shirt half on. He closed his eyes, held them closed for a minute, then popped them wide open. “Come again.”

“Not that kind.” My brain had been on a single track, not even thinking the double meaning.

“You fucked her?” he asked as if I was as deranged as the psychopaths who’d used her like that.

“God NO!”

Celt snagged his cut back out of my hand and swung it on. “Then wha—ooohhhh.”

The understanding brought a smirk to his lips, one I wanted to smack off. The bell above the door in Louie’s diner rang and Roni came jogging across the street. Her blond ponytail bounced as she ran. She’d turned into quite the confident little biker babe, wearing a crop top, cutoff Daisy Dukes, and combat boots suitable for riding.

My bro threw a light punch at my shoulder. “I can dig it. You’re gonna try your hand at BDSM?”

“What was that?” Roni giggled and leaned up to give her ol’ man a lingering kiss.

I looked away, rubbing the muscles in the back of my neck.

When she finally pushed Celt away, Roni asked, “BDSM? Who?”

I was definitely not having this conversation with Celt’s girlfriend. Nor with a nurse. I didn’t want to hear all about the terrible injuries that came into the emergency room because of dumb sex accidents. I thought I even had a shirt that said something along those lines.

It’s a bitch when your humor becomes reality in the worst fucking way.

“Don’t look at me,” said Celt, holding up his hands.

Roni turned to me, broadening her smile and thoughts of scandal seemed to light her eyes. “Cook? Do tell.”

“None of your business,” I said, brushing past her.

Celt turned to head into the diner too.

“Wait!” She skipped to keep up.

My oldest friend slung his arm around his girl when she caught up.

Roni laced her fingers with his hand at her shoulder. “There’s nothing wrong with it as long as you’re safe.”

I rolled my eyes. I wasn’t having this fucked-up conversation. It was weird enough to figure all this out on my own. I didn’t easily embarrass, but everyone seemed to want a part of my sex life. Ornon–sex life, as it may be.

“Hey. I’ve got a friend in Phoenix.” Roni glanced up at her ol’ man. “He’s into shit like that. Maybe I can connect you?”

“A friend?” asked Celt, eyeing her. “Who?”

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