Fast As You (Reapers MC: Conroe Chapter, #2)

by Hunter, Bijou

  Bubba doesn’t seem in a hurry either. Bailey frequently hints for more grandbabies. She’s addicted to all the attention and cuddles being a nana affords her.

  “It’s up to Soso,” Bubba says whenever anyone asks.

  To some people, it might seem as if he’s passing the buck or doesn’t care. But he knows what Griff wanted to do. Rushing into “breeding” panics me, and that panics Bubba.

  “We’ll know when we know,” I reply when everyone invariably turns to me.

  Life is great that first year. I settle into my oddball group of friends. Sissy is the gentle ditz. Lily is the organized badass. Panni is the shy hugger. Phoebe is the easygoing artist who never wants to plan shit. Scarlet is the hothead farmer who also never wants to plan shit. Bailey expects everyone to do what she says. Sawyer wants everyone to ignore Bailey. I’m not entirely certain of my role, though.

  “You’re the sexy one,” Bubba says when I ask his opinion. “The hot one. The cool one. You know, the best one.”

  Taking Layla’s suggestion, I open a small boho store. We sell “hippie food” like lettuce wraps and wheat germ. Lily produces crotched blankets and quilts. Scarlet turns her goat milk into soaps, skincare products, and cheese. Her Cajeta is a hit, and she buys more goats to keep up with the demand.

  A few of the women from the Rossiya Motel work at the store part-time. Plus, they learn how to waitress at the pub. I also personally train Katya to be the motel manager. She cries when I buy her a language program to help improve her English skills.

  “I said you would only get rewards, not punishments,” I tell Katya. “You are brave, and you are smart. Nothing in your past will keep you from succeeding in your future. Do you understand?”

  Katya knows she can always call me. Whatever the problem—from a customer bothering her to not understanding the meaning of the word—I will always listen. That’s what loyalty means in Conroe now.

  Katya and the other girls learn quickly, and they rarely complain. One day, I hope many of them will use their new skills to find legal work. I want them to know they have options, even if they don’t seem willing to give up the safety and familiarity of the motel yet.

  I’m able to do most of my work from home, using my laptop to oversee the stores, motel, pub, and even the sanctuary in Hickory Creek. That flexibility pressures me to think I should have a baby now. Plus, Lily and Sissy want more, and my baby would have instant friends. The timing is right, but the urge for a child escapes me.

  Until one day when I’m at Bailey and Nick’s house. I wander down a hallway near Buzz’s section that I’ve never visited before. On the wall are pictures of Bubba and his brothers. There are tons of adorable photos, but one catches my eye.

  Bubba, Butch, and Buzz sit in an inflatable pool. The brothers are probably between the ages of seven and three. The three wet boys stare at the camera wearing matching “huh?” expressions.

  That picture inspires me to make a little Bubba. I can’t explain why, but I need to be a mother, and I need him to be a father.

  Bailey cries hysterically when Bubba and I announce we’re having a girl.

  “I knew you were the best one!” Bailey declares, eliciting groans and complaints from her other sons.

  Panni doesn’t take it personally because she knows Bailey’s full of shit. Sissy doesn’t seem to even hear the comment because she’s mesmerized by her son’s tiny toes.

  Once Malibu is born, I understand the fascination with baby feet. Our daughter is terribly tiny, and Bubba worries she didn’t cook long enough despite her being a week overdue.

  He’s even afraid to hold her until I remind him how he cuddles the much smaller Ula and Bjork. Once Bubba takes Malibu in his arms, he never wants to let her go.

  Growing up to be a hardcore daddy’s girl, she’s basically me as a kid. Though I craved my mom when I was sick and scared, I always wanted to know where my dad was and if I could go with him. Now Bubba enjoys his own shadow.

  When she’s three, our dirty-blonde, dark-eyed daughter decides we need to shorten Malibu to “Bubu,” so she can sound more like her dad. My parents and I get a kick out of her doing the same to her name that Mom did to mine.

  Her devotion to Bubba makes me so nostalgic that I find myself calling Dad daily, just to say hi.

  He and Mom drive up every other week. More often, when I’m nearly ready to pop with their newest granddaughter.

  Venice isn’t an independent tomboy like her sister. My daydreamer prefers sitting on my lap and listening to a story rather than learning how Daddy’s chopper works.

  Two is enough. I’ve always thought one child per parent was the best scenario. It’s how my parents did it.

  Plus, space is always an issue, and I don’t want to move from this ranch. Bailey sold us the house cheap, and we could conceivably add on down the road. For now, I can’t find a flaw with it.

  After all, this is the house where Bubba calmed my fears after Griff. Where I lingered when Malibu’s labor took forever. Where I nearly gave birth to Venice, who decided to show up early and with minimal warning. Where my pets feel comfortable. And where Bubba and I built our life together.

  Bubba’s already made improvements. After the atrium, Buzz and Butch help him build a workshop out back. He added a carport where the club guys can hang out and drink beer.

  Often, Bubba, the girls, and I walk across the street to play at the Kirk Johansson Memorial Park. My man staked his claim on Conroe in the same way he did with my heart. He’s become as fiercely protective of our town as have I.

  For our frequent visits to Hickory Creek, we buy a small three-bedroom place near my parents. The A-frame isn’t an option with such a tiny bedroom and no privacy. Three chicks and one bathroom is also Bubba’s biggest nightmare. He endures enough of that during our summer road trips.

  Both girls love the sanctuary and learn to respect the birds’ power. Every time we’re in town, we spend hours visiting, getting to know newcomers and spending time with old friends. Back in Conroe, Venice often pulls up the camera feed from the sanctuary on my laptop and checks on her feathered buddies. Venice’s love of birds reminds me of Keanu as a kid when he’d watch the fish in his aquarium.

  Life is perfect. I know people roll their eyes when I say that, but there’s no other word to describe how I feel. Bubba is the best man. My daughters are the best kids. Our house is the best home. Our extended family meshes together perfectly.

  Not everything was ideal on our way to this current perfection. We struggled. We suffered. We persevered. Just like his parents did, and my parents did, and our kids will do one day.

  And every day together is my reward for choosing to follow my hunky puppy rather than settle for what was safe, easy, and expected.

  A FINAL WORD FROM THE STALWART

  At the age of twenty-two, I ran away from Conroe. At thirty-two, I’m the king of this fucking place.

  These days, my club gets a piece of everything illegal in this county. When Cooper claimed Conroe, he only wanted a buffer town near the Kentucky border with Missouri and Illinois. I doubt he ever figured we’d amount to anything more than a weak satellite chapter or a vanity club for his sisters to run. Without a doubt, we floundered for a few years, but running away like a bitch proved to be a turning point for me and the local Reapers.

  Somehow, Soso manages to get more beautiful every year we’re together. She never stops being patient with me either. I can tell her anything, fuck up like an idiot, whine like a baby, and she always helps me get back on track. I like to think I’m everything she needs too. Not a day goes by that she doesn’t smile as if the sun itself is shining through her. I might not be the only reason she’s happy, but I pray I’m a big part of it.

  We’re blessed with two brilliant little girls. Malibu wants to be just like me. By the time she was six, I had her riding with me around Conroe. She’d wear her baby blue helmet and “Lil Reaper” jacket. When I’d cross my arms and frown at someone, she’d mimic me co
mpletely.

  Even now when she’s nearing puberty, Malibu dreams of riding a chopper and beating down anyone who messes with the family. I hope she gets to be that tough chick one day. Of course, if she hits fifteen and decides she wants to be a princess or a scientist or a belly dancing, bird-loving bohemian, I’ll be prouder than shit too.

  Blonde, blue-eyed Venice loves animals, traveling, and books. I get the feeling she’ll have trouble finding happiness in a small town when she’s older. Her need to roam is infectious. When she’s seven, we buy our own RV—The Sobu—and start taking trips throughout the year.

  The four of us love the road. With the club stable, we can be gone for weeks without worrying about putting anyone in danger. The girls are part of the local educational co-op, meaning they can study anywhere. Ula and Bjork come along in the special cage we had built to fit in the RV, and Freki usually hogs the master bed.

  The plan is for only two kids. It’s not a set deal or anything, but we’re happy with our daughters. However, since Soso’s broken nose, she suffers a sinus infection at least twice a year. We’re careful during every round of antibiotics because they can make her birth control wonky. Well, we are for the first nine years, but then someone suffers a condom fail—no blame assigned—and we end up with a beautiful baby boy.

  Tripoli is a shy, timid child who wants to live on his mom’s hip and hide his face in her hair. The older he gets, the more he reminds me of Butch. The sandy-haired boy talks easily enough, but the world would quickly pass by Tripoli if his big sisters weren’t watching out for him.

  “He was what we didn’t even know we wanted,” Soso says one night as we cuddle in our new master bedroom. “Just like how you were for me.”

  Our ranch house grows before Tripoli’s birth, and then we add an in-law suite after he’s walking. With the amount of time Dayton and Harmony spend in Conroe, they ought to buy a place of their own here. But we prefer them to stay with us. Soso is at her happiest when she’s surrounded by her family.

  At first, Keanu and Lottie bunk with us during their visits. Then when their son Farrell is born, they decide to rent a place a mile away from our house. He eventually opens up a steakhouse called The Glenn.

  “I need to eat well even when visiting Bumfuck, Kentucky,” he explains after announcing the purchase.

  Over the years, Conroe grows both in the number of residents and in the local flavor. The old-timers don’t like the changes one bit, but the opening of a local factory infuses the town with fresh blood. The club organizes yearly events as a way to give back and to remind everyone who really runs Conroe.

  I’d be lying to claim I could have come up with any of these ideas without meeting Soso. If I stayed in Conroe after my fight with Butch, I don’t know what would have happened. The Dogs might have killed us. Cooper could have installed a new president. We likely would have limped along for years. Eventually, I’d have married a woman that made me happy but never inspired me. My life wouldn’t have been fulfilling. Only Soso knows how to inspire me to be my best. She’s the magic ingredient I was missing.

  Finding her saved me, my club, and likely my family. Falling in love with Soso happened fast. Loving her every day since has been easy.

  THE END

  HEART LIKE MINE QUICKIE

  Jack Johansson is a temperamental, foul-mouthed biker who only reveals his softer side to his closest family. As a legacy member of the Reapers, he’s always gotten what he wanted. He even became the Conroe Chapter’s VP without breaking a sweat.

  But now he’s met a woman who isn’t immediately struck stupid by his charms.

  Georgia just freed herself from an angry, oppressive man. The last thing she needs is to become a doormat again.

  But she’s drawn to the tatted biker despite realizing he might be more dangerous than the last man she trusted.

  Can the hotheaded hunk woo the wary heart of the woman who inspires him to be better?

  DAMAGED WORLD READING ORDER

  Note: These books are written so they can be read as standalones, but the list below is the preferred order regarding character introductions.

  Damaged 1-7 (Sunday Morning and In the Wind are on different timelines)

  Ramsey Security 1-3 (book 3 links most to the other series)

  Junkyard Dog

  Serrated Brotherhood MC 1-3

  Rawkfist MC 1-3

  White Horse 2-4

  Ellsberg 1-3

  Conroe 1-3

  ***The Little Memphis MC and Rawlins Heretics MC series along with my standalones romances are unconnected to the Damaged world.

  ABOUT BIJOU

  Living in Indiana with my three sweet sons, three wacky cats, one super mom (and her ugly dog), I love cats, Red Letter Media, Call of Duty, and sitcoms canceled before their time.

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