Dream Chaser (Dream Team, #2)(121)

They adamantly refused payment.

They also adamantly refused to stop showing up when I demanded they do that because they’d refused payment.

And last, they continued adamantly refusing me buying their lunches, and instead, they maneuvered it so they always bought mine.

This brought on an exchange of words (with Hound, but also Dutch, not to mention Boz) that earned me another call from Tack where he said, “Listen, Ryn. We got no crises. Shit is copasetic. And we’re finding, no matter how fucked it is, that copasetic is boring as fuck. It means they got two choices. They either work on cars, or work in the shop. The men hate workin’ in the shop, and our garage isn’t big enough to have all of them working on cars. Worse, if they were all there, they’d be up in each other’s shit about how they worked on cars. So honest to fuck, you’re doin’ us a favor. We’re bikers. We need a change of scenery every once in a while. Give ’em a change of scenery.”

He was so full of shit.

They’d totally adopted me, not to mention took on a project they wanted to see through, and Tack was laying a trip on me so I’d let them do what they wanted to do.

I did not get into this with Tack.

I said, “They wanna keep helping, I buy lunch.”

I thought he’d balk or hand me another line of bullshit.

Nope.

He’d said, “Deal.”

And then he hung up.

Truth be told, it kinda messed with my head to have free labor (ish, feeding the boys every day wasn’t cheap, it still didn’t cost as much as skilled labor).

But who was I to deny a biker a change of scenery?

This meant the walls were painted. The floors were down in the rooms that needed no further work. Hound had taught me how to tile, and after the kitchen cabinets were up, I’d done the backsplash (and it looked awesome).

The electrician was coming in that next week to do her thing. The plumber was coming back the week after to do the bathrooms and finish work in the kitchen.

It wasn’t like I had a ten-guy crew. We had some significant work to do and it was a lot more time-consuming than I thought it would be (of which, I took note for budgetary and scheduling purposes for the next one).

But if we kept going at this clip, we’d be on the market before summer’s end.

And I hoped that meant we’d be on the market to buy the next house by autumn.

Because seriously.

This flipping houses shit was a blast.

I loved my girls, Smithie and Dorian.

But it was way, way better than stripping.

And the best part of the goodness that had become of life was that wasn’t all the goodness.

It kept on flowing.

Evie and Mag were now engaged.

Plans were heating up for Lottie and Mo’s wedding.

Though, Pepper and Auggie were still being stupid. But I sensed Pepper was taking in the Evie and Mag thing, the Boone and me thing, and having a good think (so I was laying off to give her time to have that think, and come to the right conclusion, and if she didn’t, I was laying right back on again).

The only downer was the fact that Hattie had pretty much instituted an all-around friend divorce.

She wasn’t being mean.

She just didn’t return texts for days, was always busy when we tried to make plans, and denied there was anything to talk about at direct requests to do just that.

It was getting on Pepper’s nerves.

It was concerning Evie.

And it was making Lottie plot (I could see it every time her eyes fell on Hattie).

So I was pretty chill about it, because Lottie plotting got me Boone.

Enough said.

I couldn’t say all was right in the world.

I was still out of Angelica’s life, which meant Portia and Jethro’s. My brother still wasn’t talking to me (and now wasn’t talking to Mom). And I still didn’t know what to do about all of that.

But at least I wasn’t under a 24/7 security detail anymore.

A plus.

And I got to spend a Saturday, which was the day before a Brunch in Bed with Boone Sunday, watching my hot, built, alpha, Dom boyfriend lugging boxes.

A total plus.

I took in the show of Boone squatting to put down the load he was carrying (sweet) and pulled my ringing phone out of my back pocket.

I tore my eyes away from Boone’s thigh, looked at my cell, and at what I saw on the screen, I couldn’t stop my “Oh shit.”

“What?” Boone asked.

I pressed my lips together, rubbed them a bit, looked at Boone, and said, “Brian,” timing it to come out right before I put my phone to my ear (so he wouldn’t stop me from putting my phone to my ear) and greeted with a tentative, “Hey.”

“Ryn,” he said quietly.

His tone made me drop my head and listen hard.

“Okay, I…I need you,” he said.

I lifted my head instantly and saw Boone, my sweet Boone, right there in front of me.

“You need me for what, Brian?” I asked softly.

Boone lifted a hand and wrapped it around the side of my neck.

“I just got back from seeing the kids and I’m, well…I’m sober, Ryn. It’s just been a little while, eight days, and I didn’t wanna say anything to you or Mom until I knew that it was gonna kinda…take. But Ang has been…I couldn’t see the kids until…” He trailed off.