“I like that there’s kids here,” I told him quietly, and earned his gaze.
His warm, happy gaze.
“Yeah,” he agreed.
“This isn’t what I expected of bikers,” I admitted.
And it wasn’t. Sunny day. Grill fired up. Table groaning with food. Coolers filled with ice and packed tight with bottles of beer and cans of pop. Loads of people around. Kids in the mix.
I didn’t know what I expected, but something this laid back and friendly was not it.
“Lotsa different kinds of families, Millie.”
I nodded.
He was right and it appeared, away from the one he left behind in Durango, he’d found a good one.
And the fact that was what he’d do, find a family, said a lot about him, all of it good.
I leaned deeper in to him and dropped my voice even more. “Thanks for bringing me here, Logan. I don’t want this to sound corny because I mean it. But I’m honored you did.”
The warm tunneled into his eyes, going deep.
“Means a lot, beautiful,” he replied.
I grinned and lifted a hand to curl it around his wrist. “Good.”
Finally, he bent, touched his mouth to mine, and I let him.
“Yo! Low, Millie!”
Logan lifted away and we turned our heads toward a brother I’d met called Black who was manning the grill.
“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