by Rie Warren
Every so often I glanced at his strong profile, the tamed whiskers of his goatee, the sinewy cords of his neck . . . and always his captivatingly muscular arms covered in ink.
“Last few weeks of school, huh, Caleb?” Saint bit into the brisket, and Caleb did the same.
It occurred to me my boy was mirroring him in everything he did. Whenever Saint took a swig of beer, Caleb slurped threw the straw on his juice box. If Saint drummed his fingers on the table, Caleb copied the move. And once he even pulled his hand down his face as if he had a long goatee too.
It was adorable, and scary.
Saint was the only man I’d ever brought home, and I didn’t want this to be a mistake.
Despite my lingering misgivings, Saint had Caleb completely engaged and all too eager to talk his ear off.
“Got any plans for the summer?” Saint asked.
“I wanna go to the zoo! And Mommy signed me up for a nature camp with my friend Davis.” He wrinkled his nose. “She says I don’t need to be playin’ Fortnite all day every day ’cause that stuff’s gonna rot my brain.”
Momma Joan was conspicuously silent, but I wasn’t fooled. She hung on every word and checked Saint out almost as often as I did, except she wasn’t half as surreptitious with her ogling.
Her infatuation tickled me, and I knew Saint wasn’t oblivious.
I contented myself with the food and the company, until my ears perked up when Caleb—my sweet, sweet angel—mentioned, “Mommy says you’re not her boyfriend.”
Saint sent a piercing look at me. “Oh really?”
Nodding frenetically with barbecue sauce making a big ring around his mouth, Caleb ignored my warning glance. “I think she’s lyin’. But only like a white lie, not a bad one. ’Cause I got a girlfriend and we text just like you and Mommy. She said you don’t, but I saw them on her phone.”
The whole table fell silent, and I almost dropped a forkful of slaw.
“You saw our texts?” Saint asked slowly, Momma Joan looking on in unmasked amusement.
“Just one I guess.” Trying to wipe his mouth on a napkin, Caleb only ended up smearing the sticky sauce around.
Oh Jesus. Which one?
I didn’t want to ask, and even Saint looked stricken.
Joan didn’t give a shit though; she was enjoying this far too much. “Which text, sugar?”
Gonna throttle her with my own bare hands.
“Huh?” Now Caleb was poking out his tongue and trying to lick up the sauce.
“Which text was it you saw?” Momma Joan persisted.
“Somethin’ weird about Mommy’s tights I think?”
I held my breath while Saint turned into a statue.
My adorable son then shrugged. “I didn’t get it though.”
Palpable relief made me exhale and Saint slump back in his chair.
“I guess that does make her my girlfriend, you’re right.”
Just because we’d dodged a bullet did not his girlfriend make me . . .
“Right, Honoré?” Taking my hand, Saint slowly kissed over my skin, clearly savoring my flesh.
I wanted to kick him in the shin.
I wanted to take him to my bed immediately.
I only yanked my hand away when Caleb groaned out, “Yuck. I don’t kiss Mary Mayfair though.”
“Mary Mayfair’s your girlfriend?” Saint gave his attention back to my boy, steering the conversation to much safer subjects.
It was strange watching Saint interact with my son. Most of the time we’d spent together, I’d been his major focus. Now observing the pair getting to know one another . . . my heart caught somewhere halfway between my chest and my throat.
The meal finished a little while later, and I started clearing the table. Saint began to get up, pulling dishes toward him, but I pressed him back down.
“This was really nice of you, Saint.” I squeezed his shoulder, and his muscles rippled beneath my touch.
“Aw shucks. You trying to make me blush?”
Caleb cackled at that.
Then he vaulted from his chair. “Wanna see my room, Saint? I gots lots of books and toys!”
“Books and toys? How can I say no to that?”
I could hardly believe my eyes when—just like that—Caleb tucked his tiny hand inside Saint’s big ringed paw and tugged him off down the hall.
Hurrying to the kitchen, I quickly blew my nose on a paper towel.
Momma Joan entered, setting down the empty platters. “I done told you he’s a good man. Even if he’s not a saint.”
I nodded.
“Caleb likes him.”
I swiped at my leaking eyes.
“Oh, honey.” She drew me into a hug. “It’s a good thing to let another man in. Especially one as fine as him.”
Sniffling and chuckling, I let her mother me for a moment, even if she was entertaining lewd thoughts about my boyfriend.
Then the bright musical sound of Caleb’s laughter joined Saint’s deep belly rumble, and the big biker I’d convinced myself was bad news knocked another hole in my heart.
Not long later, I stood outside on the front step with him.
He squinted at his Harley then peered at me with such tummy-clenching longing, I ached for him all over again.
Rubbing a hand along his whiskered jaw, he blew out a breath and chuckled to himself.
Trying to alleviate some of the heat cresting between us, I asked, “What were you and Caleb laughing about in his bedroom?”
“Oh that. He made me play that game app, and apparently I almost crashed the whole thing.” Saint shook his head. “So I guess I’m an old guy but it’s okay because he still thinks I’m cool.”
I placed my hand on his forearm. “It’s all right. Honestly, I have to Google what he’s talking about sometimes. I seem to have let him get another app I don’t even remember that he uses to talk to the girlfriend.”
“Mary Mayfair.”
“Yes! I didn’t even know about her until just before you showed up today.”
“Kids, huh?”
“Yeah. Kids.” I hadn’t had a man to share all the idiosyncrasies about Caleb with . . . ever.
I found myself staring up at Saint, and him looking down upon me.
“He’s somethin’ else, Honoré. You done good.”
“I know,” I whispered, his compliment precious to me. “I mean I know he’s something else, not that I’m—”
“Don’t kid yourself, baby. It’s clear you’re an amazing mom.”
“Thank you, Saint.” Shy again, I pulled my hand from where it rested on his arm.
He cleared his throat. “About our texts . . .”
“Don’t worry. I’m changing the settings on my phone ASAP.”
“I thought the worst for a second there.”
“Me too.” I met his eyes, reading the darkening depths of them.
My pulse began racing, lingering desire for one another surging with breakneck speed to the surface.
His voice deepened. “Do I even get a kiss?”
“One kiss.”
Oh! When Saint pulled me up and into his hard body, need coalesced into a hot ball in my belly.
His lips equally hot, he sealed his mouth over mine at just the right angle, just like every other time. I grasped his shoulders, my tongue dancing wildly with his as our lips mated the way our bodies needed to. I felt him at my tummy, that thick rigid cock plainly erect.
Keeping my pelvis cradled against his groin, he jerked his head back with a long groan. “Fuck. Every goddamn time with you.”
I arched boldly, riding along the hard swelling in his jeans. “I could come just like this, Saint.”
Rough hands guided me to the opposite side of the stoop, and I felt dazed.
“No way, baby. If you’re gonna make me wait, you will too.”
“Mean.”
“More like hopeful.”
Still strung tight, I gave him a sensual smile as I pushed my breasts out. “How so?”
>
His jaw clenched and his fists balled. “You do realize you’re pushing my limits, right?”
“Am I?”
“I have a proposition for you.” His gaze skimmed from my tits to my lips.
Then he tore his eyes away.
“There’s a big Blood Legion family-style picnic tomorrow. Out at Angel’s mamere’s place. I wanna bring you all.”
“I don’t know.” I hesitated.
When we first started, he was just supposed to be a casual fling.
“C’mon. Everyone will be there. It’s out on the bayou. I just want to hang with y’all. Get to know Caleb a little bit better.”
“Momma Joan has a shift,” I hedged.
“Then I’ll give her a pass. But not you.”
“Hmmm. Saturday’s a big money-making day for me though. You know how the tourists love us street musicians.”
“I’ll pay you.” Saint stood across from me, stubbornly keeping his body away from me.
“Like your hooker?”
He grinned, chuckling. “You’re fucking impossible. You know that?”
“Okay. Caleb and I will come.” I agreed if only to see that handsome face light up.
Deal with the devil?
Not if his name was Saint.
Chapter Seventeen
SAINT
“DARNIT!” HONORÉ shouted as I hoisted her back to her feet. “You could’ve warned me we were hiking into the complete wilderness, Saint. I’d have brought my survival kit.”
I’d picked up Honoré and Caleb for our outing half an hour earlier, and we’d almost reached Mamere’s cabin. But Honoré had just tumbled over a knobby root for the second time and landed flat on her ass.
I happily swiped dirt off her backside while she fumed.
“Hey. I thought you were a tough broad.” I gave her a little pinch on her ripe rear end.
She shook me off, pointing her finger at me. “A tough broad?”
“What’s a broad?” Caleb skipped back to us.
“A word I never want to hear come out of your mouth again.” Honoré turned her pointer finger on him.
Drawing her hand into mine, I guided her farther along the path with Caleb rushing headlong in front of us again. “We’re almost there anyway, and I don’t mind helping you clean up.”
Her eyes shot sparks at me, but nothing could dim my good mood. Just had to make sure I didn’t drool over her too much, at least not with Caleb in constant visual contact. Might be hard controlling myself though. Honoré had answered her door wearing a ludicrously short pair of cut-offs and a thin top that tied at the nape of her neck. With her pale hair in shiny braids, all I could think about was that tasty divot of flesh at the nape of her neck, and her shapely legs in the tight shorts.
I took a second to discreetly adjust myself, and she hissed, “Keep it in your pants.”
“That’s what I’m trying to do.”
She huffed out a reluctant laugh, and I clasped her hand tighter.
“Caleb’s having fun.” I watched the kid race from tree to tree, acting like he was being chased through the woods.
Kind of like we’d hunted down a pack of racist rednecks through these very same cypress stands almost a year ago.
“Of course he is. He’s a boy.” But as he stopped up ahead of us to turn and wave with both his arms flying wildly around, she broke into one of those breathtaking smiles I was still waiting for her to bestow on me.
“And there’s good food and good company coming right up,” I added.
“You don’t count yourself as good company?”
I tickled a finger across the sensitive skin of her wrist and said, “That’s for you to decide.”
“In that case, I’ll let you know later.”
Always the tease, she held out. But care of my light caress, her voice had become breathier.
Yeah, I had the woman in the bag. And later I aimed to have her in her bed.
Just as we approached the clearing, I heard Mamere’s throaty call:
“Who this little scrapper be?”
“My name’s Caleb! Are you the mamere?”
I was chuckling when we emerged from the trees lining Mamere’s property. We were the last to arrive—Slade, Grace, Revenge, Sol, Mercy, and the rest already there.
Angel hunkered down in front of the blond boy. “Hi, Caleb. Did you lose your mom and Saint back there?”
“They’re slow pokes.” He rolled his eyes dramatically.
“Well, I’m Angel—”
“Nuh uhn. Like in the Bible!”
Coming up behind the pair, Honoré murmured, “Oh lord. Not this again.”
“He into the scriptures?” Mamere asked her.
“Not exactly. He just has a thing about names, like Saint here,” Honoré explained as Caleb darted off to meet more people.
Taking both Honoré’s hands, Mamere looked her thoroughly over. “You that pretty chanteuse from my grand bébé’s wedding, ain’t you?”
“Yes. Of course, I remember you . . .”
Mamere’s belly laugh followed. “Colette’s my name. But don’t nobody call me that. Mamere is just fine.” Arms folded under her breasts, she nodded. “And you’re with Saint. Mmm hmmm.”
It appeared the matriarch approved.
Meanwhile, Caleb bounced from person to person, bumping fists and shaking hands, which reminded me of that old adage . . . never met a stranger. I guessed that was the way with most kids, although I couldn’t say I knew many.
Sol presided over a slow roast pit, and beside him sat a barrel filled with ice and cold drinks.
He said something in his gruff Creole to Caleb, and Caleb nodded like he was a Bobblehead.
When Sol produced a popsicle from what had to be a hidden stash at the bottom of the drinks barrel, Caleb squealed out, “Thank you, Mister Sol!”
I chuckled then looked to see if Honoré saw her son making friends with everyone only to find she’d drifted over to the main event . . . baby Haven.
With most everybody fussing over the new arrival, I helped myself to a beer.
Caleb popped up beside me, sucking the hell out of the orange popsicle. “What’s Mommy doing?”
“She’s admiring little Haven Elizabeth.”
“The baby belongs to all y’all?”
I snorted. “Not exactly.” Crouching down to seem less like a looming giant, I pointed out Slade and Grace. “She’s their baby. But since we’re all Blood Legion, I guess you could say Haven’s naturally part of the family.”
“Am I part of the family now too?”
Well, shit. I knew Honoré wasn’t a huge fan of the whole MC gig.
“I reckon I’d really like that.” I ruffled his hair. “You’re definitely part of the family today.”
Revenge took a break from mooning over the new baby to bump fists with me then pop a beer. Angel came over then Chase and Lennox too.
“What? Did the little princess shi—” I glanced at Caleb then amended my words. “Did she drop another deuce?”
“Nah. She still smells all baby fresh. Just thought we’d have some bro time.” Angel winked at Caleb who hung on every word in between slurping at his popsicle that melted fast in the late May sun.
“Bro time.” He nodded like a miniature adult, his lips stained orange.
“Speaking of bro time, have you ever been fishing, Caleb?” I asked.
“No sir.”
“Who’re you calling sir?” Revenge leaned over and tickled him right on the ribs.
Squirming and giggling, Caleb scrambled out of arm’s reach.
“Wanna give it a try?” I asked him.
Glancing at the dock, he tangled his tongue around the last part of the drippy popsicle. “Aren’t there alligators in the water? Gators on hemorrhoids.”
On hearing his pronouncement, Mamere chortled. “Ain’t never heard them called that, boug.”
Caleb scratched his hair ’til the front stood up in a spiky crest. “Somethin’ my grandma sa
ys sometimes.”
“Maybe gators on steroids?” I suggested.
He scrunched up his whole face in deep thought before exclaiming, “Oh yeah! That’s it.”
Mamere motioned to the left of her property. “Got all kinds of fishing gear over yonder in that shed. Go poke your nose around and get what ya need.”
Inside the shed that was way tidier than Revenge’s bedroom back at the bar, Caleb and I tracked down two poles, and I snagged a tacklebox.
We exited into the bright sunlight and trudged past the others to the water.
“Hey, Saint?” Honoré called after us.
I caught her eye over my shoulder.
“Don’t let him fall in,” she warned.
“Pffft.” Seriously. What did she take me for?
Caleb nabbed my hand just like he had the other night. “She’s just over’tective.”
“Overprotective. Gotcha.” Holding that tiny hand was a totally different sensation than linking my fingers through his mom’s.
A burst went off in my heart unlike anything I’d ever experienced.
Before reaching the dock, I put down our gear. “First things first. Lures or worms?”
“What’s lures?”
“We need to use bait to catch a fish.” I dug around in the tackle box and held up a shiny lure with bright orange feathers. “This is a lure. Or we can dig us up some worms to use.”
“Worms. Definitely worms,” he spoke with almost holy reverence.
Squatting down together, we started digging in the damp dirt. Caleb went at it with gusto, tongue poking out at the corner of his mouth.
“I got one!” He pulled out a fat nightcrawler, dangling it between his fingers.
“Good find. Pop it in this tub.” I nudged a plastic container toward him.
I found the next wriggler, gently tugging the worm from its lair of mud. “Here’s a nice big juicy one.”
“Juicy.” Then he made a slurping sound before collapsing in giggles.
Damn kid was amazing. Funny. Cute.
We’d see how he sized up as a fisherman.
Tacklebox, poles, and tub of worms in hand, we walked down onto the dock, me casting a huge shadow and his much smaller frame about a fraction of my form.
I showed him how to pierce the worm with the hook then stood behind him as he attempted to stick the second one.
