in her room?” Mickey whispered. It seemed wrong somehow.
“It makes me feel better to know that I’m helping you, Michaela. Really, it does. To know that there’s a warm body sleeping in that bed. I’m sure you think I’m just a crazy old lady, but the moment I saw you walk into my diner, I knew you needed help. Just as I knew that I was going to be the one who helped you.”
“Call me Mickey. It’s what my family calls me.”
Ruby opened her arms and after only a moment’s hesitation, Mickey went into them. It felt strange and wonderful, comforting and foreign, to be embraced like this. It had been such a long time—an eternity really—-since she had been held.
Chapter Thirteen
“Who the hell did you meet in that dress?” And why do you look so nervous, little girl?
“What’s wrong with my dress, Dax?”
“You just look too fuckin’ good, darlin,’” he growled. “Where the fuck were you today?”
“Really, Dax? I must have told you three times that I had a meeting with that politician who attended our studio open house last month. Marvin Thatcher—he’s running for congress.”
It was her crowning achievement—making the paper. Yeah, Dax remembered the politician. He remembered quite distinctly the flicker of warning he had experienced when he saw the man approach. Most congressmen were fucking crooked, so he chalked it up to that. Still, Dax made a mental note to ask Turtle about the guy.
He never could trust a guy in a suit.
We make a very strange couple, Dax mused, his possessiveness cooling a degree or two. The ex-con biker and the do-gooder humanitarian.
Actually, Rhiannon’s fundraising activities provided more cover for their pot operation. The local and mainland government turned out for her events. It helped that Turtle’s extended family ran most of the shit out here too. All in all, his new gig and his new life seemed to be going well.
Almost…too well.
“Come here.” Dax reached for Rhee and was mildly surprised when she danced away.
He narrowed his eyes at her. “What’s going on, little girl? You itching for another spanking?”
Dax hid a grin as Rhiannon blushed—either with outrage or with desire, he had no idea. But oh, how he dearly loved to see the color fill her cheeks like that. And he loved to pinken her other cheeks with the flat of his hand. She loved it too…and he made her admit it—even beg for it.
“No!”
Her outburst surprised him. Then, her physical response confused him. But only for a second.
Rhiannon’s right hand flew out to rest low on her stomach. Protectively. And there was only one reason Dax had ever known a woman to execute that particular little gesture. It was an instinctual thing—a female, protecting her young.
“Are you sure?” He asked in a low voice.
She turned bright red, following his gaze to where her hand lay against her tummy. Rhee shuffled her feet at bit. He took a step closer, trying unsuccessfully to gauge her feelings.
“No—I just…I feel sort of…off lately.”
“I thought you were on the pill?”
“I am. I’m sorry, Dax. I wasn’t planning this. Trust me, I have no desire to go through all of this again…”
Her voice went up several octaves until it cracked, but by then she was in his arms anyway.
“Hey, darlin’. What are you sorry for?”
She lifted her face to his, and God, those eyes, illuminated by her tears, were like emerald pools, like the green room. Rhiannon, she was his green room.
“I’m not sure, Dax. So…there’s no need to worry. I even took a home pregnancy test and it was negative, so I’m probably just…over-reacting. I’m not even late…really. I just—this feeling, it’s familiar.”
He cut her off. “Who says I’m worried?”
“Well, but…I mean, I might be pregnant, Dax! Do you understand what that means?”
Dax traced the curve of her jaw. Rhiannon’s skin was so satiny smooth. His cock jerked to attention and he shifted slightly. Something about
“It makes me feel better to know that I’m helping you, Michaela. Really, it does. To know that there’s a warm body sleeping in that bed. I’m sure you think I’m just a crazy old lady, but the moment I saw you walk into my diner, I knew you needed help. Just as I knew that I was going to be the one who helped you.”
“Call me Mickey. It’s what my family calls me.”
Ruby opened her arms and after only a moment’s hesitation, Mickey went into them. It felt strange and wonderful, comforting and foreign, to be embraced like this. It had been such a long time—an eternity really—-since she had been held.
Chapter Thirteen
“Who the hell did you meet in that dress?” And why do you look so nervous, little girl?
“What’s wrong with my dress, Dax?”
“You just look too fuckin’ good, darlin,’” he growled. “Where the fuck were you today?”
“Really, Dax? I must have told you three times that I had a meeting with that politician who attended our studio open house last month. Marvin Thatcher—he’s running for congress.”
It was her crowning achievement—making the paper. Yeah, Dax remembered the politician. He remembered quite distinctly the flicker of warning he had experienced when he saw the man approach. Most congressmen were fucking crooked, so he chalked it up to that. Still, Dax made a mental note to ask Turtle about the guy.
He never could trust a guy in a suit.
We make a very strange couple, Dax mused, his possessiveness cooling a degree or two. The ex-con biker and the do-gooder humanitarian.
Actually, Rhiannon’s fundraising activities provided more cover for their pot operation. The local and mainland government turned out for her events. It helped that Turtle’s extended family ran most of the shit out here too. All in all, his new gig and his new life seemed to be going well.
Almost…too well.
“Come here.” Dax reached for Rhee and was mildly surprised when she danced away.
He narrowed his eyes at her. “What’s going on, little girl? You itching for another spanking?”
Dax hid a grin as Rhiannon blushed—either with outrage or with desire, he had no idea. But oh, how he dearly loved to see the color fill her cheeks like that. And he loved to pinken her other cheeks with the flat of his hand. She loved it too…and he made her admit it—even beg for it.
“No!”
Her outburst surprised him. Then, her physical response confused him. But only for a second.
Rhiannon’s right hand flew out to rest low on her stomach. Protectively. And there was only one reason Dax had ever known a woman to execute that particular little gesture. It was an instinctual thing—a female, protecting her young.
“Are you sure?” He asked in a low voice.
She turned bright red, following his gaze to where her hand lay against her tummy. Rhee shuffled her feet at bit. He took a step closer, trying unsuccessfully to gauge her feelings.
“No—I just…I feel sort of…off lately.”
“I thought you were on the pill?”
“I am. I’m sorry, Dax. I wasn’t planning this. Trust me, I have no desire to go through all of this again…”
Her voice went up several octaves until it cracked, but by then she was in his arms anyway.
“Hey, darlin’. What are you sorry for?”
She lifted her face to his, and God, those eyes, illuminated by her tears, were like emerald pools, like the green room. Rhiannon, she was his green room.
“I’m not sure, Dax. So…there’s no need to worry. I even took a home pregnancy test and it was negative, so I’m probably just…over-reacting. I’m not even late…really. I just—this feeling, it’s familiar.”
He cut her off. “Who says I’m worried?”
“Well, but…I mean, I might be pregnant, Dax! Do you understand what that means?”
Dax traced the curve of her jaw. Rhiannon’s skin was so satiny smooth. His cock jerked to attention and he shifted slightly. Something about
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