“Burger. Dog. Brat,” he shouted. “Call it now, they’re goin’ fast.”

“What you want, darlin’?” Logan asked me.

“Brat!” I yelled to Black.

“Got it!” he yelled back. “Low?”

“Burger and a dog,” Logan replied.

Black lifted his chin and turned back to the massive half-barrel grill.

“Fresh ones.”

This was muttered from our sides and I looked to the man introduced to me as Big Petey, a guy probably in his forties, an older member of the Club, which was definitely multi-generational, just as he slid the warm bottle of beer out of my hand and put a cool one there.

He grinned at me and winked while he did it.

Then he, too, jerked up his chin to Logan as he did the same with Logan’s beer.

“Black kicks ass with a brat, baby, good call,” Logan said before lifting his fresh beer to take a draw and turning his attention back to the grill. “Then again, he kicks ass with everything.”

I shifted so my side was pressed to his and lifted my own bottle, saying, “Awesome,” before I took a sip.

“Gotcha!”

I looked to my left and saw the brother called Boz with a camera he was lowering after obviously just taking a picture of me and Logan.

I hoped, if I asked nice, he’d give me a copy.

Our first photo.

It had just been taken but I couldn’t wait to see it.

“Too pretty for that brother, Millie,” Boz declared as he gave Logan a joking take-that look and me a grin. He turned only to stop and lift his camera to take a picture of a dark-headed boy who was racing after a dog on the tarmac between the Ride store, the Ride garage, and the Chaos headquarters.

“Don’t eat all those, Chew,” snapped a woman I had not yet met, who was not too far from us at another picnic table, one that was laden with food. “They’re Low’s favorite.”

“He’s a grunt. He gets the dregs,” the brother I did meet, called Chew, replied, doing it with a mouthful of deviled egg, two more of which he had in the palm of his big hand.

“He’s got his girl with him, moron,” she returned. “Grunt or not, all Chaos got manners.” She planted a hand on her hip and challenged, “Or am I wrong?”

“You’re not wrong but you are a pain in the ass,” Chew shot back.

“My job,” she muttered.

I giggled quietly.

“Dad! I want a puppy!” the dark-headed little boy shouted, and I looked that way.

He was now close to Tack, who had his daughter riding on his shoulders.

“You got it, bud,” Tack replied with a grin.

That was easy.

“Really?” Tabby screeched.

Apparently, Tabby felt as I did.

Tack twisted his neck just as she leaned over and put both hands to his cheeks.

“Yeah, baby,” he told her.

How sweet.

Yes, totally liked Tack.

“Puppy!” the little boy I suspected was Rush shouted as he pumped his arms with excitement.

“Pushover.”

The word was muttered from behind us and when I twisted, I saw it was from Big Petey, who had his gaze to Tack and his kids, and even if his word sounded disapproving, his grin was not.

Oh yes. I liked Logan’s whole Chaos family because it was like family. Safe. Loving. And like any family, even having its flaws, it still felt good.

I sighed and melted sideways into my man.

“You okay?” he asked the top of my head.

I wrapped my arm around his waist and rested my head against the side of his chest.

“Yeah, Logan,” I replied. “I’m definitely okay.”

He gave me a squeeze.

I returned it.

“Millie!” Black called. “Brats are done, honey.” He looked to Logan. “Low, come get your woman her food.”

Your woman.

“Be back,” Logan muttered, let me go, and walked toward the grill to get me my food.

I watched him move away thinking, Yes, oh yes.

Absolutely yes.

I was one hundred percent okay.

CHAPTER FIVE

Don’t

High

“HEY! HIGH!”

Striding out from the back of the store toward the Compound, hearing Cherry’s call, High looked toward the garage to see her quickly coming down the steps to the office in her high heels.

He changed directions and started moving her way.

“I’m in a bind,” she called when she got to the bottom of the steps and started rushing to him. “The tires don’t fit!”

High said nothing. He just kept walking across the expanse of tarmac to her.

“The buyer is coming on Monday and Joker’s decided on different tires, not recutting the wheel wells,” she went on, still hoofing her way to him. “I called the first two suppliers and they don’t have what he wants. And I—”

They met. She stopped. He stopped, too, and lifted a hand so she’d also stop yapping.

“What you need, Cherry?” he asked.

“I need tires,” she replied. “Which means I have to call around to everyone to find them and that means I can’t go get the champagne.”

His brows drew together. “Say again?”

She threw out a hand in agitation. “I can’t get the champagne.”

“What champagne?” he asked.

“For the event,” she told him. “Tack and I are donating twelve cases of champagne to this fund-raising thing happening downtown. They called and needed underwriting. They were in a bind because something had happened and the champagne donation fell through. It’s a good cause and a big event and any big event needs champagne. But there wasn’t enough time to get the brothers together so they could vote on the donation so I decided Tack and I would donate it personally.”

“Thinkin’ the brothers would cover you, you thought it was worth the cake,” High informed her of something she absolutely knew.

She shook her head and grinned at him. “Doesn’t matter. Tack and I need write-offs too.”

“Whatever,” he muttered, and got to the point. “So what you need from me?”

She nodded. “Right. Well, it’s ordered, the champagne that is, and they need it because the event’s tonight. They also need it in time so they can get it in the fridge to chill. I was supposed to go pick it up and take it there. The store can load it and they have guys at the event location to unload it. I just need the pickup. But now I can’t—”

“Where’s the booze and where’s it gotta go?” he asked.

Cherry smiled big and shouted, “You’re the greatest!” before she shocked the shit out of him by leaning in, putting a hand to his chest, and getting on her toes to press her cheek to his.

Fuck.

She’d never touched him.

A decade he’d known the woman and she’d not touched him.

Not once.

She moved away, still smiling but also giving him the info he needed.

He nodded. “On it.”

“You’re my savior today, or you’re King’s Shelter’s savior.”

King’s Shelter. They took care of runaways.

Yeah, a good cause the brothers would totally vote to support.

He didn’t get into that again with her.

He told her, “You can keep talkin’ to me or I can go get your shit and get it to the hotel.”

She kept smiling. “Then I’ll shut up. Thanks, High. You’re the best.”

She continued to smile as she lifted her hand and then the woman touched him again, squeezing his biceps before letting him go, turning on her heel, and sashaying toward the garage like she had all day and wasn’t in a rush to find some tires.

He didn’t think of that. Not when he was watching her ass move in her tight skirt, an ass that was beyond fine even after popping out two kids and being firm in her forties.

Tack was a lucky man, seeing as Cherry was his woman.

High stopped watching her ass and went to his bike, which he rode to Boz’s place so he could switch it out for his truck.

Then he went to the liquor store, got that booze, and drove to the location, stopping behind it at the loading area where Cherry told him to go.