Page 8 of Playboy’s Purgatory

Vanessa grabs another one and gives it a little shake like she’s tempting Graycie. I have to cover my mouth to stop myself from laughing. She’s inviting trouble by taunting a pregnant woman with cookies.

“You don’t even know which ones are in this box. Mama promised she made my favorite. If she made mine then she made yours,” Vanessa’s voice is pure sugar.

“The double chocolate chunk ones?” Graycie drools around the question, her lips smacking together. “Let’s stop in the kitchen and have a little on-the-way-to-the-party treat. It’s a very grueling trek,” she insists matter-of-factly.

“We’ll need sustenance,” I agree with a straight face.

When Graycie leads us into the kitchen, Opal, Ezra, and Vera, Ryker’s mom and the former Old Lady in charge, walk in from the back of the building. We put the cookies on the large island and catch the tail end of their conversation.

Vera’s eyes are alight as she crows, “Did you see him out there surveying the spot where he insists a new playground must go? He’s not just doing it for Snake and Graycie’s little one.”

I narrow my eyes and scan Ezra, something in Vera’s voice making me wonder if our little history teacher has something to share. An especially important something. Ezra looks over and her eyes widen; her hands shoot out in front of her while waving them madly.

“Titus is just getting prepared. And there are a few kids around. He should have put a playground in years ago,” she tries to sound put out, as if the president of the SOMC surveying for a playground is just a regular day.

I doubt it is and there’s no doubt in my mind the look I shoot her leaves no doubt in my ability to see through her. Everyone is looking at her the exact same way.

Ezra huffs out a breath and her shoulders slump. “The man has been dreaming of baby bumps, okay?” She throws her hands up in exasperation. “He’s a man possessed. I’m not complaining, per say, but I am but one mere mortal woman. I don’t do nearly enough stretching or yoga or conditioning or whatever for his kind of focus.”

There’s a beat of silence before we start laughing. Hard. Except for Ezra who is glaring at us and crossing her arms across her chest.

When her eyes fall on Vanessa, they widen before she gasps and covers her mouth with her hands. She didn’t say anything scandalous; the man’s mother is standing in the kitchen with us.

Vanessa peeks up from pulling a second red velvet cookie out of the box with a grin. “Did you say there are a few kids?” When Ezra nods and points toward the back door, Vanessa shoots me a look like I need to seriously reevaluate my level of knowledge about such things. All I can do is look away.

“If you step out the back door, Snake will be there. He’ll introduce you. Is that okay?” Graycie offers, her voice soft even though her cheeks are still pink from laughing.

“Great,” Vanessa tosses out while eyeing the cookie box one more time. Then she’s out the door.

I move to follow her, but Graycie is there with a gentle hand on my arm. “She really will be okay,” she assures me. “I know Snake will be right outside the door because he’ll be there ready to pounce on me the moment I step back outside. The man has perfected the art of hovering. Still, when he sees Vanessa, he’ll take care of her.”

“Don’t pretend like you don’t like his hovering,” I tease her.

Graycie’s cheeks turn a deeper shade of pink before she turns her attention back on Ezra. “So, what you’re saying is that our kids will grow up together,” her voice is filled with excitement. She does a little belly shimmy that might be an offering. “Wanna rub my belly for some good ovulation luck?”

Opal takes a step back, her face a mask of horror. “That’s not how it works, right? I’ve been rubbing that thing all day,” she exclaims, aghast.

Ezra covers her face with her hands, but I can hear the smile in her voice, “Who even are you people?”

“I, for one, am looking forward to grandbabies and watching my son become a father. But any little ones around here are a blessing,” Vera cuts in, her eyes warm as she looks at Graycie. When she turns toward Opal, something indulgent crosses her face. “We need to find you the right man, too.”

I shuffle over and duck down behind Graycie. The traitor immediately laughs, which brings Vera’s attention toward me.

There’s laughter in Vera’s words, “I can see you, Lara, and I haven’t forgotten you either.” She lets out a long, heavy sigh, “I have a feeling a certain biker just needs to get his head out of his ass and see the world clearly. But he has to figure it out on his own,” she adds with an airy wave of her hand.

With a frown on my face, I poke my head up and around Graycie’s shoulder. “If you’re talking about Assboy, then you are barking up the wrong tree.”

Vera laughs, but the knowing glint in her eye doesn’t go away. I ignore it because the woman has clearly lost her faculties.

Opal coughs, but I can see the smile she’s trying to hide. “Let’s leave the cookies in here for now,” she suggests. She nods toward the backyard. “Come with us out to the real party.”

The nod I give her is shaky in return and my hands are far sweatier than I would like them to be. Sensing my unease and knowing the reason why I am more than justified in feeling it, the women close ranks around me. Their chatter is a balm against my frayed nerves as we step out back.

I can feel him instantly. I ignore him completely.

As I’m led deeper into the party and I see where Vanessa is huddled together with a few other kids, one younger, one older, I keep my resolve and don’t seek out his chocolate brown eyes. The hardest part is ignoring the sound of Lola’s cackle.

Even though I want to ask what she’s doing here, I don’t. I simply keep a closer eye on Vanessa. Every time Lola’s laughter fills the air, Vanessa tenses; she covers it quickly, but I see it.