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Grim no longer felt this was a good idea as the whole club descended on the cakes he asked Betty to bake. What actually happened was, she gave him a list of cakes she wanted to make, then asked him which one he wanted to try.

This was where the difficult part came in. He loved the look of all the freaking cakes. And he loved the sound of them all. Rather than choose, he thought it would be a good idea, as did her aunt, for her to make as many as she could over two days, and they’d bring them to the club. This is exactly what she did. In total, she was able to make eight cakes.

He looked at the table, to see most of them were already gone, and one by one, the guys, the club women, old ladies, all went to talk to Betty.

“This was a good idea,” Martha said, coming to stand beside him.

“Really? You think it was?” he asked, feeling a little jealous as Mac went up to her and threw his arm around her, playfully. He tensed up.

“You’re getting her out of her comfort zone, and that is not something I’ve been able to do.” Martha sighed. “I tried to get her to be more social, but it was like ... I just couldn’t do it. She always considered herself strange, you know?”

“What do you mean?”

“She never seemed interested in anything her peers were interested in. She doesn’t make friends easily. Cooking and baking, and even reading, have been her consolation. If I couldn’t find her in the kitchen, I could find her at the library in a book.”

“She mentioned she’s not close with her mother.”

Martha snorted. “That woman, my sister. She is younger than me, and trust me, she was a beauty, but our parents did her a disservice, because they made her think she was a princess. Everything was about looks, and she had it all.”

He noticed no one mentioned Betty’s mom’s name.

Martha shook her head. “When she was pregnant and started to gain weight, she wanted to go on a diet and exercise, and at one point, she even talked about aborting, but that wasn’t going to happen.”

“Why?”

“Betty’s father wanted a child, and he was a wealthy banker, but he didn’t have time for a daughter. He wanted a son, and my sister refused to give him a son after losing her body to an ungrateful brat—her words, not mine—but that was the kind of crap Betty had to put up with.” Martha sighed. “She was always an angel.”

“I don’t think I should ever meet her mother,” Grim said.

“The chances are slim,” Martha said. “I’ve not seen her in nearly ten years. She hasn’t spoken to Betty for nearly as long, but I don’t know. Everything Betty did was not good enough. She was not pretty enough. Not slender enough. When she showed a love for food and cooking, I think that was the final straw. It’s such a shame, because Betty has a real talent for it.”

“She does.”

When Savage also hugged Betty, and even Charlotte was there, Grim had enough.

“Excuse me.”

He moved close to Betty, creating some distance between Savage and her. “What’s going on?” Grim asked.

“I asked Betty if she wanted to come and live with Charlotte and me,” Savage said.

This surprised him.

Betty laughed. “I’ve had a lot of invitations for moving in, even staying right here in the clubhouse.”

Charlotte laughed. “Honestly, I don’t know what has sealed the deal. The salted caramel cake, or the cream-cheese frosted carrot cake, but they are all delicious. I know I’ve put on weight just by looking at these.”

Savage went to his wife and pulled her against him. “You’re beautiful.”

Grim didn’t think he was ever going to get jealous watching Savage and Charlotte be together. Nor Doc and Maeve, even Eden and Razor. He was not jealous, nor did he care what other members of the club got up to. It was none of his business. Yet here he was, watching them, yearning for that same connection.

He liked Betty. More than liked her, and this was a new feeling to him. He’d never cared about women, not enough to want one for longer than one night.

Savage kissed his wife’s head, then turned to Betty. “The offer is still there.”

Betty giggled and looked toward Grim. “I guess if my show doesn’t pick up, then I could always offer my services as a private cook.”

“Your show is suffering?” he asked.