Page 47 of Talk Wicked to Me

“I will. I promise.”

“Okay. I’ll bring Ollie by in the morning, and we can introduce him to Brennan.”

Happiness bubbled up inside her. “Really? I miss him so much. Wait. Tomorrow’s Wednesday. Don’t you have to work?”

“I figured I’d be sticking around tonight to help with Brennan, so I texted Tori and Evie while you were sleeping and asked them to reschedule my early appointments.”

How was he still single? “Baz, you don’t have to rearrange your schedule for me. You can bring him over after work.”

“I have church tomorrow night.” Church was what the motorcycle club meetings were called.

“Oh.” She cocked her head. “Your club meets on Wednesdays?”

“That’s right, darlin’, and my schedule has already been rearranged. My morning clients are coming at the end of the day, and then I’m off to the meeting.” He leaned in and kissed her cheek. “See you in the morning.”

She closed the door behind him and leaned her back against it, trying to recover from the double dose of dimples and darlin’.

Chapter Fourteen

WEDNESDAY EVENING, BAZ climbed off his motorcycle in front of the old brick schoolhouse that was now the Dark Knights’ clubhouse and pulled his vibrating phone from his pocket. He grinned at Emerson’s name on the text message. After hearing about the solitary life she’d lived in New York, he’d decided to bring Sidney with him when he’d taken Ollie home that morning, hoping to give Emerson another friend she could trust. He’d also brought a case of sparkling apple-cranberry juice, so she wouldn’t run out anytime soon.

Emerson had teared up the second she’d seen Ollie, and her pup had been just as elated. Baz had expected him to jump up, since they’d been apart for several days, and he was pleased that it had taken only one correction for the pooch to remember what he’d learned. Ollie had been curious about the baby, sniffing and staying close, but he hadn’t shown any signs of aggression or jealousy. Baz had stuck around for a little more than an hour, making sure Emerson was comfortable and there were no issues before heading to work, leaving Sidney to teach Emerson the commands she’d taught Ollie and giving them time to get to know each other.

Two hours later he’d received a text from Sidney telling him that Ollie was doing great and how much she liked Emerson. She said she’d stop by to check on them when she could over the next few days to make sure Ollie didn’t backslide. Half an hour later he’d received several texts from Emerson.

Emerson: Did you swap my dog for a doppelgänger? He’s SO well behaved!

Emerson: I’m pretty sure he loves Brennan as much as I do, and he’s just as in love with Sidney.

Emerson: I might be, too. She added a laughing emoji. Sid is a miracle worker.

Emerson: Thank you again for asking her and Gunner to take care of my four-legged baby.

Baz: I’m glad it worked out.

Emerson: She gave me the dirt on you and your cousins.

Baz: You can’t believe everything you hear.

Emerson: I think I can, Dr. Dimples.

He didn’t know what Sidney had told her, but he had Evie to thank for that particular nickname.

As he headed up to the clubhouse, he opened the new text from Emerson, and a picture popped up of her sitting on a blanket on the floor holding Brennan. Ollie was lying beside them, with his head on her lap, watching the baby. Baz’s chest constricted. How was it possible that he missed them when he’d just seen them that morning? He wasn’t going to see them again until Friday, when he was driving them to Brennan’s pediatrician appointment. A little distance would do him good. He was too into her, and he’d gotten too comfortable, making comments he shouldn’t have to a woman who had just had a baby.

Pocketing his phone, he pulled open the door to the clubhouse and headed inside, startling as boots hit the floor and every man in the place rose to his feet, cheering, “Daddy Baz!”

What the…? Blue and white helium balloons were tied to tables and chairs, more floated around the room, their long blue ribbons dancing beneath them, and a banner announcing IT’S A BOY hung behind the head table.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Baz scrubbed a hand down his face, laughing and cursing, fighting a strange sort of pride.

“Congratulations!” a bunch of them hollered.

“Y’all know he’s not mine.” As Baz made his way across the room to where his brothers and cousins were cracking up, guys handed him cigars, clapped him on the shoulder, congratulated him, asked how the Mrs. was doing, and asked if he was sick of changing diapers yet, to all of which he answered, “Fuck off,” earning hearty laughter.

He dropped the dozen or so cigars they’d shoved into his hands onto the table and eyed Zander and Gunner. “Which of you two idiots masterminded this bullshit?”

“It wasn’t us, man,” Gunner said.