Page 9 of Riding the Edge

“Maybe so but ain’t gonna do your girl any good if you’re in the bed next to her. I went to John’s Deli. Didn’t know what you might like, so I grabbed you their roast beef. Also got some fresh mozzarella and half a pound of prosciutto.”

I was channeling my inner Sally Field, stealing a scene out of Steel Magnolia’s and this guy, this crazy man whose patch declared him some kind of wolf, was unwrapping a sandwich and setting out a plate of cheese.

“Sit down, lady,” he demanded, pointing to the chair I had spent the last twelve hours in.

If I wasn’t so bewildered by the beast of a biker, I might’ve put up a fight. I may have damned him and his leather clad brothers to hell in a handbasket. Instead, I dropped into the seat and watched as he wheeled the tray in front of me.

“What do you want to drink?” he asked, pulling out a variety of drinks from the bag. “Pipe said you go heavy on the coffee,” he continued, twisting the top of a Manhattan Special. “Here.”

“Does that mean the other hooligan left for the day?” I questioned, taking the bottle of iced espresso from Wolf.

Despite the bushy beard covering his lips, I swear I saw him smile.

“Ain’t going to lie, lady, hearing you call Pipe a hooligan makes me almost like you.”

At that, I rolled my eyes.

None of these guys liked me.

They all thought I was a pain in the ass and I’m pretty sure the frying pan story will go down in history.

I might not know much about their culture but, I’ve been around street guys my whole life. Whether its silk suits or leather vests, the values are all the same. These guys tolerated me out of respect for my son and daughter. Wolf wasn’t there supplying me with half the pork store out of the kindness of his heart but rather out of loyalty to the reaper on his back. It was a code of honor all these men lived by.

“Thanks,” I said lifting the bottle and tipping my chin towards the spread on the tray in front of me. “But it isn’t necessary. You can leave.”

“You’re a pain in the ass.”

“Excuse me?”

“A pain in the ass. A thorn in the side. Whatever you want to call it,” he said, dragging another chair towards the tray. Sitting across from me, he crossed his leg over his knee and leaned back. Stroking the beard on his face, he studied me. “Your daughter is property of Parrish, lady,” he drawled, diverting his eyes toward Lauren. “Means she’s family,” he clarified before turning his gaze back to me. “Makes you family too and every Knight takes care of his family. You can fight it but you’d be wasting your breath. Now, why don’t you do us both a favor and eat the sandwich.”

I didn’t have the energy to argue with him. I also didn’t have the stomach to eat. Pushing the cart away, I looked at my daughter.

“Lady, sometimes, even the strongest people need a hand to hold and a shoulder to cry on,” Wolf said, causing me to glance back at him. “Not going to ask you to hold my hand because you might break it. But you need to cry, you can do it in front of me. I promise I’ll still think you’re a badass mouthy broad tomorrow.”

“Got promoted from pain in the ass, did I?”

His lips quirked.

“I like your girl, lady. I like her a fuck of a lot. You did good raising her.”

Pride swelled deep in my heart at his words and as much as I didn’t want to cry in front of anyone, I couldn’t help myself. The dam broke, and the tears rolled down my cheeks as I stared at my young daughter.

“Damn you,” I cursed, wiping my cheeks.

“There, now,” he muttered coming up behind me. “Let it out.” Patting me on the back he reached around me and offered me a box of tissues. Snatching them from his hands, I pulled a few out and blew my nose. “I think I told you to take your hands off me.”

“Yeah, you’re definitely a mouthy broad. Stubborn as fuck too.”

“And you’re crude.”

“Sticks and stones, lady.”

“Stop calling me that,” I said shoving the box of tissues against his chest.

“I take it back,” he replied thoughtfully as he crossed his arms. “Maybe I do want to ruffle your feathers.” Stepping closer, he plucked a few tissues from the box before tossing it to the side. Lifting his hand, he gently wiped the tears from the corners of my eyes and I was paralyzed by his touch. The tears somehow subsided, and he curled his fist around the tissue before taking a step back. “Eat the sandwich, lady,” he ordered, dropping into one of the two seats. It was the position in which he remained until my daughter opened her crystal blue eyes three days later.

That was nearly six years ago and in all that time, I never actually thanked Wolf for being there for me. I always wanted to but for some reason, I could never bring myself to actually say the words. I think mainly because if I did thank him, I would be admitting I needed him at that time in my life. A hard feat for a woman who has gotten herself out of every jam she’s ever been in and has prevailed each time her back was against a wall. Still, I’m not sure I know how to lean on someone or how to accept help. What I do know is that I appreciated him then and in those few days the man gained my respect. Which is why I can’t bring myself to leave his side now. Everything he is feeling, I have felt and while I don’t have half a pork store to offer him, I can still give my time.

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