Page 64 of Property of Spike

“Maybe,” I say. “But I have a feeling that Chuck’s ending will definitely be covered in blood. I just hope it’s Chuck’s and not Spike’s.”

The sound of heavy boots stomping down the hall has us both looking toward the kitchen entrance just as Maverick and Crusher walk in.

“Something smells good,” Crusher says, patting his stomach.

“There isn’t a single thing cooking,” I laugh softly. “What you’re smelling is peeled potatoes and raw meat.”

“I stand by my words,” he winks.

“Flirt with her again, and I’ll break your face,” Spike says, shoving Crusher aside.

“This is your fault, woman,” Skip says as he, too, walks into the kitchen. “He used to be nice before he met you.”

“Oh, please,” Maverick grunts.

“Okay, nice is pushing it,” Skip says, pulling Asher from his bouncer. “But he used to be tolerable. Now, he’s an ass.”

“That’s President Ass to you,” he says, taking Asher from his arms and cuddling him against his chest.

“What? Now I can’t hold my own nephew? I’ll have you know that I’m his favorite uncle.”

“You wish,” Tank says, grabbing a raw potato and eating it. “Ash and I already made plans to build his motorcycle. I’m clearly his favorite.”

“He’s an infant,” I remind Tank with a smile. “And I don’t think it’s gut-healthy to be eating raw potatoes. I haven’t even rinsed those off yet.”

“We’re planning on taking our time,” he smiles, taking another huge bite. “And I’m a big guy, Riley. Me nor my gut are worried about a raw potato.”

I raise an eyebrow, looking at Spike, then at the group of men crowding into the kitchen instead of being in the war room. “Shouldn’t you all be in your super-secret meeting?” I ask, hands on my hips.

Spike smirks, completely unbothered. “Tried. Didn’t last five minutes without you.”

I roll my eyes, but before I can respond, he steps closer, crowding me against the counter. The kitchen goes completely silent except for a few amused snickers.

“Gotta say, baby,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against mine, “being away from you? Not my thing.”

Before I can react, he cups my face with his one free hand, the other still holding my son, and kisses me, slow, deep, and absolutely shameless.

The room erupts.

“Oh, come on!” Skip groans. “We get it. You two are disgustingly in love.”

“Hey, some of us are trying to eat here,” Tank complains around a mouthful of raw potato.

“Damn, Prez, at least give us a warning next time,” Crusher mutters, covering his eyes like he’s witnessing something scandalous.

Spike pulls away just enough to smirk against my lips, completely unfazed. “Don’t like it? Get the fuck out.”

Bones, the terrifying, emotionless enforcer, steps forward without a word and plucks Asher right out of Spike’s arms. Itense for a second, but the sight of the massive, scarred man cradling my baby so carefully softens something in me.

“You lethimtake the kid, but I get threatened with a bullet every time I try?” Skip exclaims, throwing his hands up. “Where is the justice in this club?!”

Spike shrugs. “Bones doesn’t run his mouth like you do.”

“You wound me, Prez. You really do,” Skip sighs dramatically.

Bones ignores the whole exchange, looking down at Asher with something bordering on tenderness. “Kid’s getting heavier,” he mutters.

“That’s because he eats like Tank,” I tease, looking pointedly at Tank and his raw potato.

---