Jackson (A Steele Riders MC Novel Book 3)

by C. M. Steele

  “I’ll be okay. We have to tell the crew, but for the time being, security is going to get really heavy around you ladies.”

  “I understand, but some of the people around here might be uncomfortable.”

  “Tough shit for them. People in this town know damn well we run this place. They should be used to seeing all of the Riders and the prospects hanging around anyway.”

  “I’m not going to argue with you, but if it fucks with my business, we’re going to be talking.”

  He smiles at me and shakes his head. “There’s the girl I met half a year ago.”

  “What? Bitchy?” I inquire, smirking up at him.

  He returns a grin, but then gets serious and says, “Well, I wasn’t going to say that…but I would say direct.”

  “In that case, I’m going to take my ass directly to the kitchen. I’m going to see what we have to make. It’s getting late, and we’re going to need to eat.” The clubhouse has a walk-in freezer and cooler because many of the guys come here to hang out and have their meetings here.

  “Let me know if you need any help, sugar.”

  “I’m okay. Just take it easy.” I leave him there and quietly cry in the kitchen.

  Six years later…

  Jackson

  So much has changed since I met Penny. Every one of the original Riders is married with kids. It’s insane how Steeleville has changed, too. It’s grown to double its population. Most of the businesses are owned by Steele Riders members or their family. We still have kept the small town feel and won’t be accepting any new residents since there are no new homes or apartment buildings created. Penny and I are thriving with her bakery and my architecture firm despite both of us refusing to work more than forty hours a week.

  Our kids need our love and time. Penny’s past issues that framed her future brought out the fears in her. Her dyslexia has gotten better since we’ve been married, but she’ll never break away from it. So she worries that it’ll pass on to the kids. Only the two oldest are of reading age, and so far, they are rock-starring it. They even read at a higher level than they should. Our daughter is too young to read at two, but only time will tell.

  “Daddy,” Junior hollers, running up to me as he gets out of school. “Daddy. I got a sticker,” he cheers. On his shirt, there’s a gold star.

  “Hey, buddy.” I pick him up and hug him close. “So what amazing thing did you do today?”

  “I wrote my name perfectly on the lines,” he remarks, lifting his chin proudly. He’s in Kindergarten, so this is a huge accomplishment.

  “Congrats. We need to tell your mother.”

  “Ooh, can we go to the bakery?”

  “Yes, buddy, but first we need to pick up your brother and sister from daycare.” On days when Penny has to work, and I have to work at the office, the kids stay in daycare until I pick up Junior. At three and a half and two years old, the kids are too wild for the bakery. I tried to have them in my office, but they had fun drawing on my sketches. It was best that we brought them to the local daycare. It was a well-secured place with prospects watching at all times and security cameras everywhere.

  We go and pick them up, then head over to pick up their mommy. She needs to take it easy. Baby number four is already on the way; in the next two weeks, we should be having another little boy. I’m thinking Penny is done after this one. She wanted more than one daughter, but at this point, the odds aren’t in her favor.

  “Are we going to see grandma and grandpa this weekend?”

  “Yes, we are.”

  The kids cheer, “Grandma!” Like most kids, they are spoiled rotten by their grandparents. I get the kids out of the car, carrying little Daisy while Junior holds his brother Dylan’s hand. They walk into the shop ahead of me.

  “Momma,” they exclaim, running toward the counter. She comes around it and smiles at them then up at me. Suddenly her face contorts, a groan escapes her pretty pink lips, and then a gush of water hits the floor.

  “Looks like you’re going to Grandma’s sooner.”

  “Oh no,” Penny cries out.

  I’m on the phone right away to Doc to meet us at the Steeleville hospital that we had built for our residents. Her staff goes around cleaning up the mess and closing the shop while we got her things together.

  As soon as we made it to the hospital, my in-laws were on their way to pick up the kids from Penny’s assistant Lia who lived upstairs from the bakery.

  “I love you, sugar,” I whisper, kissing her forehead before she begins pushing out our little man.

  “I love you, too,” she whimpers, squeezing my hand as the contraction tears through her.

  After almost an hour of pushing, our youngest son was born. I hold James in my arms and grateful for the love of my life who made this all possible.

  THE END