Page 1 of Big Timber

Prologue

The dinner might not be as good on Monday nights, but the hosts are always entertaining, I think, hiding my smile when Dylan lets out a string of cuss words as she drains the pasta that’s been on the stove since I got here.

Throttle is still up on the ladder, trying to get the final screws of the ceiling fan in when I look over at her and she casts a guilty look back at me before tilting the colander so I can get a look at what seems to be a very solid lump of what was supposed to be spaghetti.

I nod my head at the ladder and hold out my hand with the remaining screws that Throttle will need to finish assembling it. Without a word, she eagerly walks toward me to switch places.

“There’s another box in the cabinet next to the fridge,” she whispers.

“What’s that?” Throttle asks, looking down at her. While she may choose to ignore it, his expression is a little too neutral for me to buy it.

“Nothing babe,” she replies, teasingly raising her eyebrows as she ogles him. “Timber got tired of staring at your crotch, so I had mercy on him.”

“Someday you gotta find a woman who just wants to use you for sex, Timber,” Throttle calls out, getting a shot in with that rather than at her utter and complete failure in the kitchen.

The two of them playfully banter back and forth at each other as I set another batch of spaghetti to boil before sampling the pasta sauce.

Ugh, not good.

But, also, not the worst she’s ever served. I dig through the cabinets, surprised at all the staples they have, considering the two of them usually eat out or have frozen meals. I have to raise my eyebrows at a woman who can doctor up bagel bites like a pro but can’t cook pasta.

Somehow, Dylan and I clicked—as friends—from the moment we met and after she and Throttle got together, he was one of my brothers who offered a standing dinner invite. Luckily, she doesn’t seem to care that I’m the only one who returned after the first meal.

Throttle and Dylan had purchased a storage complex together some months back, so while that takes up a lot of her time, I can tell she’s still searching for something that she’d be passionate about doing.

I brought her flyers from local cooking classes the third time I came, but all that accomplished was her schooling Throttle and me on how to make the most aerodynamic paper airplanes I’ve ever seen.

As I sit here enjoying the way they tease each other back and forth, I find myself wondering what it would be like to be that comfortable around another human being.

To know with absolute certainty that you were home.

Chapter 1

Timber

A growl unintentionally escapes me, and the two girls who have been bent over my design book for the past twenty minutes exchange a glance, both bursting into another round of annoying giggles before their eyes cut back to me.

At the sound of sirens, I slide off my stool and cross to look out of the glass front of my studio. I’ve had enough trouble with the law that adrenaline starts shooting through my veins—at least until the first fire truck shoots past the window I’m peering out of.

It’s followed by three more trucks.Well, damn, something’s going down. Down in flames.

Just then, my cell beeps and I stride to the counter to pick it up.

Declan:Get to the clubhouse. We’re heading back.

Oh fuck, I think as the adrenaline surges through my body again.

“Time to go, ladies,” I say to the two women in their early twenties and get pouts from both.

“But I just decided on mine,” the brunette practically purrs out, pulling up the edge of her shirt as though to show me where she wants it.

“Come back some other time. I’m closing early.” My tone doesn’t leave any room for argument, but I open the door in a bid to soften the blow. Business is business, after all.

They file out and I lock it behind them, turning off the lights as I head to secure my office before exiting out the back door. Once I’m on my bike, I pause long enough to pair my phone with the speaker in my helmet. I grimace as I tug it on since the only timeI ever wear it is when I need to make a call while enroute to some place.

“What’s happening?” I ask Declan the moment he picks up my call. I’d like some idea of what I’m riding toward, even though he’s—well, all of them are out at the Holy Redeemer Orphanage today. One of the quarterly ‘days of service’ that the Royal Bastards do to help around the place where a handful of them grew up.

I stayed out there for a couple of weeks, recovering after being shot since I refused to go to a hospital. Even with a vest on, I ended up with broken ribs. All I know is that Declan, Axel, and the others had it pretty fucking good growing up there. No matter what their feelings were at the time.

---