Page 66 of One Night with the Biker

I awakened Ainsley long enough to ask her if she wanted anything special to eat. She’d murmured strawberries and went back to sleep. She still hadn’t awakened when I returned from the grocery store. I bought enough food for several days, thoughI knew she intended to go to work tomorrow. Hopefully, I changed her mind. If I didn’t, the food wouldn’t go to waste.

Because of Ainsley’s morning sickness, I didn’t want to make a dish too spicy or flavorful, so I settled on chicken soup. I’d never made it from scratch, so I decided to follow Ma Siller’s recipe to the letter.

While the chicken boiled to make the broth, I tossed a coin to choose if I called Bolt first or Razor. As the president, it should’ve been Razor, but as the man who took me in, I couldn’t discount Bolt.

News like this would spread faster than my fingers could dial. No matter who I called first, everyone would know before I got the other man on the line.

The quarter had landed on the coffee table. I leaned over and saw it was heads. That meant Razor.

Fuck.

I wasn’t looking forward to this call, so I didn’t press number ‘4’, Razor’s speed dial placement. When I got to the second to last number, Ainsley paused at the edge of the hallway. She looked adorably rumpled.

“Something smells good,” she murmured.

“The beginnings of chicken soup.”

“You cook?”

I nodded.

“I’m starving,” she said. “But I’m also gross. I’ve been in these clothes for over twenty-four hours.”

“You reek,” I teased. “I can barely stand it.”

She flipped me off and I laughed.

“Do you mind if I clean myself up? I’ll be out in time to finish our food.”

“I’m cooking, babe. I want you and the little one to rest.”

“Okay,” she said shyly. “I’ll just get my stuff for my hair and…and stuff.”

“Take your time, sweetheart.”

I waited until I heard the shower running before I finished dialing.

Razor answered on the second ring. “Where the fuck are you, Reese? Louisiana asked for emergency leave and now you’re MIA. What the fuck’s going on?”

“It’s a long story, Prez.”

“Start at the fucking beginning. I come to the club last night, expecting to tell you about my winning streak at the track and you’re nowhere to be fucking found.”

The prospect hadn’t ratted me out. I’d remember to thank him.

“I’m waiting, Reese.”

“Once you hear the current status, the beginning will be easy enough to figure out.”

“Tell me something because I’m losing patience.”

“Ainsley’s pregnant.”

Uproarious laughter floated through the phone, the last reaction I expected. My tension eased.

Razor’s laughter abruptly died. “Now, tell me the fucking truth. I’ll admit that was a funny joke. Bullshit’s over. Where are you and what’s going on?”

The words killed my relief, and I scratched my jaw. “I’m with Ainsley, Razor. She’s carrying my kid.”

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