Page 55 of Thornhill Road

“You plan on bailin’ any time soon?”

I shook my headno.

“Then Monday night, I’m takin’ my girl and my woman to Railyard for dinner.”

“Okay,” I agreed.

My stomach reminded me of the food I’d yet to try. I dropped my attention to my plate and filled my fork with my first bite.

“You got shit you need to do today?”

The chicken was good. The green beans even more so.

It took me a second to think of the things I needed to do.

“Uh, I should probably do a couple loads of laundry, and I need to go to the grocery store.”

“Let me rephrase that. You got shit you need to do today that can’t wait ‘til tomorrow? Fridge is already full, sugar.”

I stopped chewing, tilted my head in confusion and asked, “I’m sorry, what?”

“Was getting old, havin’ to stop by the store or my house to get grub. You’re stocked up. Anything you don’t like, you let me know. I miss somethin’, you let me know that, too.”

I had to force my jaw to move so I could finish chewing and swallow my bite.

It was proving to be a consistent challenge toeatandconversewith Mustang at the same time.

“Mustang, I can afford my own groceries.”

“Seen your shoes, Tess. Know you can. But if you’re not workin’ you’re sleepin', and if you’re not sleepin’ you’re doin’ what you got to do or you’re with me. Seeing as I prefer you with me, and I had some time on my hands, I checked off an item on your to-do list.”

He finished his statement as if it was nothing, then took another bite.

I was too distracted by all he’d said to follow suit.

“That’s—that’s really sweet,” I murmured.

Speaking around his food, he said, “Get used to it, sugar.”

I was a little afraid of getting used to something that seemed too good to be true.

“I’ve never met a badass biker so…domesticated.”

Almost as soon as the words fell out of my mouth, I wished I could shovel them back in and swallow them whole. That was because, as soon as they landed, I learned what Mustang looked like when he was annoyed. While it might have been a look I could appreciate when directed at someone who wasn’t me—or, better yet, pointed at someone onbehalfof me—when thatirritated, hazel-blue stare was aimed my way, it made me want to tuck tail.

“Man’s got to eat. Got a kid, and I’ve got to feed her, too. Now I got a woman with a whack schedule which means, I want to see her, I’ve got to do my part. Not a dick, baby, and I’ve got more than shit for brains.” His gaze softened a little before he demanded, “Now eat. You ain’t got shit to do, we’ll get in a round of cardio before we head to the clubhouse. Workin’ the bar tonight, but the lineup is stacked. You can hang. You get tired before I’m done, you can pass out in my room at the clubhouse.”

I sort of didn’t regret my comment anymore. Mostly because he’d admitted he intended to do his part to make sure we’d see each other in spite of my whack schedule, and I liked that.

“Okay,” I conceded.

He filled his fork again and I just sat there, replaying all the nice things he’d said since I woke up and came downstairs.

“Baby,” he called gently.

I offered him my undivided attention, and he gave me a half-smile.

“Eat.”

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