Page 25 of A Biker's Tiny Present

“Yea, are ya?” Tiny holds Nicky up in front of his mouth and pretends like he’s the one asking.

I start by carefully tugging and sliding the red ribbon off the box, careful not to break it, and set it aside. I’m sentimental about that kind of stuff and keep important mementos in a special box in my closet at home.

Next comes the fun part, ripping off the wrapping paper like you’re five again. Not bothering to find an edge, I scratch the paper with my nails and dig in. The white paper was concealing a cardboard box, and I have it open in a flash.

Giving myself a moment to soak in what this means, I don’t realize that the room has gone silent until Teddy, Sunshine’s dog, barks and I look up. All eyes are on me.

“Merry Christmas, Vixen.” Tiny says the words I’ve been waiting all day to hear.

Threading a hand around the back of his neck, I pull him down to me for this kiss. I keep it PG, because kids, duh, but a gentle kiss is no less meaningful to me.

“Merry Christmas, Tiny.” One more kiss and I put my attention to inspecting the contents of my gift.

On top lays a skeleton key necklace, a new Old Lady tradition I learned that started with Whiskey getting Duchess hers. The top of the key of each necklace is different, each symbolizing the couple’s special relationship. Duchess has a crown, Sunshine has three circles, Angel has wings, Raven has a Celtic design, Blue has interlocking hearts, and Star has you guessed it, a star.

Mine though is different than the rest. My key is just a simple silver skeleton key, no embellishments or designs, but what’s dangling from the necklace chain next to it is what makes it special.

A Santa hat.

“It’s to remember the day we met.”

I can’t help but smile at my big softie. “As if I could ever forget.”

“If you forgot already, you might wanna go see a brain doctor or somethin’,” Mountain cracks a joke from the couch to our left. “It was only not even two weeks ago.”

That sends the whole room into a wave of laughter and good natured ribbing.

Hearing the joke from Mountain almost feels like he’s giving us his seal of approval. There’s no one else in this room who proposed to his woman after only knowing her for three days, so if anyone knows what it’s like to fall in love fast—it’s him.

Next comes out a brand new leather cut with the green snake slithering out of a skull centered on the back. The top rocker readsREBEL VIPERS MC, then across the bottom rockerPROPERTY OF TINYis stitched. I flip the cut over and my new name, one I love so much, is stitched on a white patch with black letters.

VIXEN.

After a morning and afternoon of fun with the club, Tiny and I bundle up Nicky and head home. Today is also a special day for someone in our house, even though I don’t think he knows that I know.

December twenty-fifth is Tiny’s birthday. He turned forty-six today and never said a word.

The only reason I found out, four days ago, is because I happened to find his wallet on the bathroom floor. We had just finished a steamy shower together and I was cleaning up our mess. Tiny’s cell phone was ringing when we resurfaced, so whoever called was occupying his time. I picked up his jeans and his wallet was on the tile. I didn’t really mean to peek, although who wouldn’t be curious when you’re living with someone and such basic life information hadn’t yet come up in conversation. I know I told him mine.

I had no idea what to get Tiny for Christmas, so the secret I’ve been keeping from him suddenly had a use. I knew exactly what to give him.

We’re sitting in the living room, the decorations and Christmas tree lights are all shining brightly, when I decide now is the time . . . the time to address the secret.

“Tiny?” I try to snag his attention as he’s putting together a ride-on toy that we got Nicky for Christmas. It’ll be a couplemonths before he can use it, but when Tiny brought it home two days ago, I couldn’t be mad.

“Yes?” he replies, nose still buried in the instruction manual. I’ve learned that Tiny is the anti-cliché man when it comes to reading directions on things. He will read every page, and lay out every piece, before he starts assembling whatever he’s building. This is the third toy he’s battled through in the last hour and I have to say I’m pretty damn proud of him.

“Nicky is awake from his nap. Can you grab him from his crib please? I need to get up and figure out what to make for dinner.”

“Just one sec. One more bolt to tighten and the dump truck is ready to go.” A few twists of the wrench and he’s got the toy on all four wheels. He puts all the plastic bags and packaging inside the giant cardboard box the truck came in, then heads for the garage to add it to the pile that needs to get broken down before garbage pick-up next week.

“Thank you, my love,” I call out as he walks down the hall toward Nicky’s room. As soon as he disappears from sight, I jump up. The anticipation is killing me as I wait for him to see it.

I can hear him talking to Nicky, but can’t make out the words until . . . “Vixen!”

“Yea?” I call back.

“Is there somethin’ you need to tell me?”

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