Page 1 of My Christmas Biker

Chapter 1 Brick

December 23rd—

“I’m makin’ that soup you like on Christmas Eve. Got the ham, too, for Christmas. I’ll be making deviled eggs and cheesy potatoes, so don’t think of skipping out and not comin’ to see me.”

Like I’d miss seeing my mother for Christmas.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Ma,” I assured her as I kept my voice low, watching my brothers enter the chapel for church. From my position at the bar, I could observe everything and would know the second my pres, Judge, entered to call the meeting to order. “Is it lasagna soup?” I asked, already thinking about the warm food that would fill my belly when I arrived in Denver.

“Yep. Homemade bread with garlic butter and herbs to dunk in it. Salad. Fruit. Fresh baked chocolate chip cookies and peanut blossoms, too.”

“You spoil me,” I chuckled, trying not to think about how my mouth watered in anticipation.

Whoever said that a way to a man’s heart was through his stomach knew what the fuck they were talking about. I’d marry any woman who could cook for me like my ma in a heartbeat. Bonus if she had a thick ass and a sweet smile. Extra bonus if she loved my dick.

But that wasn’t a thought I wanted to dwell on while on the phone with my mother.

“Someone’s got to do it. Ain’t got any grandkids yet. Not even the possibility of it.”

And there it was. The sting after the sweet. All my ma.

She didn’t let me forget that I owed her grandchildren.

“Need a fierce woman who can put up with my shit first,” I declared.

She made a noise of disgust. “Son, if I wait for that, I’ll be dead and buried. Just knock up some nice girl and give me a grandbaby before I die.”

Jesus.

“Ma, I don’t think it works like that.”

“It sure does. Stick it in and shoot your load. That simple. I know you figured this out when you were about twelve.”

Fuck. My. Life. “Ma,” I replied more sternly, pinching the bridge of my nose. “You can’t say that shit.”

“Why not? I’m almost sixty-five years old. It’s earned me the right to say whatever I want.”

She had a point. “How about I try harder to find Ms. Right? Okay?”

“See that you do. Preferably on your way home to me tomorrow.”

Pfft. “Yeah.”

“Don’t get smart.”

That tone still had a way of making me toe the line, and I was almost forty.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Love you, Brick.”

Even my ma called me by my road name. I had it so long that I almost forgot I was ever called anything else. She seemed to find it endearing, so I never told her to stop.

“Love you, Ma. See you tomorrow afternoon.”

She ended the call, and I pocketed my cell, sliding from the bar stool as Judge and the club’s V.P. Titan approached the chapel. I followed them inside and took my seat at Judge’s left. Titan sat on his right. Everyone else took their assigned places.

Judge lifted the gavel and called church to order. “Alright, you fuckers, we got shit to discuss. With the holidays comin’ and the weather gettin’ worse, I ain’t draggin’ this out. First order of business?” he asked, ticking his chin at Titan.

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