Wild Like the Wind (Chaos #5)(51)

That was when Jean busted out laughing.



Keely was naked on top of him, tracing the eagle tat across his collarbone, her attention on it.

“You’re cute with her.”

She meant Jean.

And she’d know.

She’d gone over for breakfast.

And lunch.

And she’d ordered Hound to go escort Jean to his own damned apartment so she could make the woman dinner.

Through this time, Hound had watched Keely falling in love (it happened during Jeopardy! when they both shouted “The Fonz!” at the same time for some TV question, and then Keely reached out and Jean actually gave the woman a high five).

Jean took that dive not long later (about a second after she put a bite of Keely’s fried beef cutlet smothered in mashed potatoes and gravy in her mouth).

“Shut it,” he replied.

“It’s absolutely adorable you call her ‘Jean bug,’” she told his tattoo.

He gave her waist a warning squeeze.

Her gaze came up to him and she had a sassy smirk on her face.

“She’s like your proper biker grandma. It’s hilarious that you don’t cuss in front of her.”

He lifted his brows. “Didn’t I say shut it?”

The smirk remained but quickly faded away and the look that replaced it, Hound had learned to brace.

“It’s incredibly beautiful the way you are with her. The way you take care of her. How much you guys love each other.”

“Keekee,” he murmured, lifting a hand to her cheek.

She turned her head and kissed his palm before she righted it and tipped it to the side, resting her cheek in his hand.

“I’m not surprised,” she whispered. “You seem to have all the time in the world for everybody else, Hound. Live in a crappy apartment with old furniture and worn-out pots and pans and making Jean eggs, giving her guff, handing over money to Jag … which you should not do, his allowance is plenty … putting Dutch forward for Chaos and looking out for him, and just being all you are to your brothers in the Club.”

“Not gonna let my boy look bad in front of a date,” he murmured. “And just to say, babe, every man in Chaos backed Dutch.”

“Yours was the one that mattered the most.”

He slid his hand to the back of her neck, gripped it and used it and his arm around her waist to pull her up his body, repeating, “Baby, shut it.”

“You’re the—”

She cut herself off.

He didn’t want to know what she was going to say. What he did know was that whatever it was wasn’t healthy to his peace of mind.

He asked anyway.

“I’m the what?”

She shook her head, let her lips curl up a little and murmured, “You’re just a really, really good man, Hound.”

So she’d shut up, he lifted his head to kiss her.

She let him, got into it when he pushed it further, then he broke the kiss and used his hand on her neck to settle her face tucked in his throat.

“I’m worried about her.”

That was in the room and it came in his voice.

Fuck, now shit was just running right out of his mouth.

He needed to get a tighter grip, seriously, or that would get him into trouble.

Big.

She pushed on his hold to lift up and look down at him again.

“About Jean?”

He said it, and she was now in it with him with Jean, so he knew she wouldn’t let it go.

“She fell asleep on my couch tonight, Keekee,” he said.

Keely looked confused. “She’s not young. I thought that was normal. Is it … unusual?”

“She goes to sleep early. Sleeps light. Wakes up a lot. She’s up before I get there every morning and alert enough I figure she’s been up awhile. But lately, she’s been nappin’ a lot more. She doesn’t take that shuffle down the hall often, but she’s never been as slow as she was tonight or as obviously worn out after.”

“How old is she?”

“Eighty-nine. Ninety is comin’ up in April.”

And it was end of February.

“She’s not young, Shep. She’s gonna slow down.”

“This fast?” he asked.

“It’s been fast?” she asked back.

“Lately it seems like it.”

“Can she get out and about? Go to the doctor?”

“She fusses because I don’t have a year to help her get down the stairs so I carry her, but yeah. I take her to synagogue. I take her to get her eyes checked. I take her for her checkups.”

“When’s her next checkup?”

“Around her birthday.”

“Maybe it’s best to go out of schedule and get her in sooner,” Keely suggested.

He was going to do that. Jean wouldn’t like it but it was going to happen.

“Need to borrow Boz’s car,” he muttered.

“Why?”

He focused on her. “She has trouble gettin’ up in my truck and she’s old but she’s got her pride. I help her out of bed. On the john. Into the shower. Just think the stairs and lifting her ass into my truck are those last straws that bug her that she can’t handle.”

“Use my car.”