Wild Fire (Chaos #6.5)(70)

She went to the bathroom, grabbed her robe off the hook on the back of the door and shrugged it on.

She then moved out of the room and down the hall to the mudroom.

They’d had their minds on other things, so they’d put their anniversary gifts on the counter in the mudroom to deal with later.

She went to them now.

She ignored the Chanel bag that held the box and ribbon and camellia flower with her discarded pair of non-Chanel earrings.

And she threw open the top of the box that Dutch had opened at dinner.

What he’d discovered inside caused him to instigate a makeout session that she had to admit might have bordered on obscene.

But from where she was sitting, it was all kinds of awesome.

She nabbed what was inside and walked back to the bedroom.

She set it up on the nightstand on Dutch’s side of the bed.

Then she went back to the bathroom, took off her robe, put on her nightie, and moved back to the bed.

She should have known.

She should have known she couldn’t leave him without his knowing.

And he knew.

All of it.

He demonstrated this by gathering her in his arms, front-to-front, and murmuring, “You couldn’t even wait the night.”

“Is it okay?” she asked, a little worried.

He bent and kissed the tip of her nose in the dark.

“It’s perfect, baby. Absolutely perfect.”

She settled into him.

She then settled into sleep.

Eventually, he rolled to his belly like he always did.

And she woke enough to adjust to fitting herself to his back.

But this time, catching it in her periphery, she woke a little more.

And in the moonlight, on his nightstand, she saw the double frame.

The left side contained the picture of Graham Black tossing his beloved firstborn son up in the air, the toddler beaming down at him.

The right side held a photo of Shepherd Ironside and Dutch Black both leaning into beers over the bar in the Chaos Compound, their heads turned right, their eyes aimed at Georgiana, who stood at the end of the bar holding her phone trained on them.

Georgiana loved both those pictures, but she had to admit, she liked the one on the right the best.

Because Dutch had a particular look on his face in that photo.

And it was beautiful.





Dutch



“Stupid snow,” Georgie groused to the side window of his truck.

“Babe,” he replied, amused.

“At this rate, I’m not gonna ride on the back of your bike with you for maybe, I don’t know, forever.”

He loved she wanted on the back of his bike.

He was not a fan of the fact it had been either cold, or snowing, since they met so he could not put her ass there.

Mostly, he loved how this had become an obsession of hers after he told her how his father had never put another woman’s ass on his bike except his mother’s.

Graham Black waited until he found the right one. And when he found her, she was the only one who rode there.

And Dutch could not tell Georgie he’d never had a woman on the back of his bike, because he did not know this story until after he’d done that.

But since he’d learned it, he’d ridden solo.

Though he told her, the minute that option was open, her ass was there.

And the obsession began.

Through these thoughts, he laughed then he said, “I think you’re being dramatic.”

“Whatever,” she muttered.

“It’s Christmas Eve. We’re gonna have a white Christmas.”

“Whatever.”

“And Wilder loves snow.”

She made a huh noise.

She adored his baby brother.

So he knew that’d get her.

And it did, since she quit bitching.

Her adoration for his brother was further proved when he parked next to Jag’s truck in his ma and Hound’s driveway.

And she wasted no time grabbing one of the bags of their presents (they had three, two of them filled with shit for Wilder, and that was enough proof right there, but it didn’t end there), this as well as the bag stacked with three tins of Christmas cookies she made.

And she hightailed her sweet ass to the front door.

It was open before they got there.

By Jag.

“Please, fuck, tell me you brought some of those butter cookies,” he said as greeting.

“Jagger Black!” his mother could be heard shouting from inside. “Watch your mouth around your little brother.”

Grinning unrepentantly, Jagger stepped aside to let them in, divesting Georgie of all she was carrying, even if she tried to protest. Though, one of the tins held her butter cookies, because she knew how much Jag liked them, and Jagger probably knew that.

Jag getting her hands free was a good call.

“Georgie!” Wilder squealed as he raced into the room.

He hit her so hard, if Dutch didn’t put a hand to the small of her back, she’d have gone down.

“Yo, bro,” she greeted, her hands smoothing back his messy dark blond hair.

He tipped his head back. “It’s Christmas Eve! Santa’s coming!”

“He sure is,” Georgie agreed.

And he sure was, because there was another bag of presents, not only for Wilder, in the truck. Presents Dutch had been forced to promise he wouldn’t bring in that he was going to go back out and get when the time came.