Gypsy king

“Anything else?” Bryce asked.

This was probably the point in time for me to tell her about that yearbook picture. I should confess I’d stolen it and had her arrested before she’d noticed, but that would mean a fight. Tonight, I didn’t have it in me to battle Bryce. Not when she’d win.

So I shoved another bite into my mouth and hoped like hell she didn’t find out before I told her. “Nope. This is really good.”

“You already said that.” She smiled.

“Worth repeating. I’m not much of a cook. Never learned. Mom loved cooking for us, and after she died, Dad didn’t take her place in the kitchen. We ate out a lot and Nick got sick of it, so he taught himself. He got pretty good. When he graduated and moved out, Dad and I went back to eating out.”

“I learned to cook from my mom. Have you met her?” When I shook my head, she said, “I’m not surprised. You don’t exactly run in the same circles. She’s more Bunko on Friday nights than beers at The Betsy.”

I chuckled, demolishing the rest of my meal. “Thanks for di

“You’re welcome.”

We both stood at the same time to take our plates, but I stopped her and took hers from her hand. “I got dishes.”

“I don’t mind.”

“Take a load off. I got these.” I went to the sink and turned on the water. “Nick learned to cook. I learned to clean.”

“How did the Gypsies get started?” Bryce asked behind me.

I smiled at a plate as I rinsed it clean. She always had a question, this one. In a lifetime, I doubted she’d be able to ask them all. “My granddad was part of a small club in town. Mostly it was guys who loved to ride. He owned the garage. Built it from the ground up and it was the focal point for the club. Dad always knew he’d take it over but had pla

Dad was never bitter about not getting the chance to move away. Because he’d had Mom who was more than happy to stay here, close to her family. She only ever wanted to be where Dad was.

“One of Dad’s friends from high school left for California. Stone, that guy I told you about, Emmett’s Dad. Anyway, Stone got hooked up with a big club down there. Didn’t join, but it gave him ideas. So he came home to Montana and talked to Dad about joining the club here. Making some changes. The Clifton Forge Motorcycle Club became the Tin Gypsies. The rest is history.”

“So your grandfather started the Tin Gypsies?”

“Technically. Though most give credit to Dad and Stone. And really, Stone never wanted to be the leader, so it fell to Dad.”

“He was the president?”

I nodded. “For all but the five years that the position belonged to me. Stone was his vice president, like Emmett was mine.”

Dad had told me once he and Stone hadn’t meant for the Gypsies to get so big. Things had spiraled deeper than they’d ever expected. But the garage hadn’t always made good money. Stone worked as a mechanic too, and they’d both had families to feed. Their brothers in the club all needed money too, so he’d made decisions, right and wrong, for the better of all the men.

To my knowledge, Dad hadn’t regretted any of it until Mom had been murdered.

And then, it was too late. He lost himself in rage and revenge.

“Where’d you get the nickname Dash?”

I loaded a plate into the dishwasher. “Mom. She called me Dash as far back as I can remember because I never stopped ru

“I didn’t realize I was sleeping with an adrenaline junkie.” She giggled. “Want another beer?”

“Depends. Am I driving home anytime soon?”

“Before I answer that, I have one more question.”

“Of course, you do.” I loaded the last of the dishes, then faced her. “Fire away.”

“What’s this thing with us?”

“Sex.” I gri

“Do you think we should set some, uh . . . limits?”

“Limits.” I arched an eyebrow. “Like anal?”

“No. Oh my God. You’re such a man.” She laughed, rolling her eyes. “Not sexual limits, though I do have some. I mean limits on this tryst we’re having. I’m assuming you’re not looking for anything serious.”

“Nope.”

“Okay then. Limits.”

“How about we go at it until we’re sick of each other? Then we’re done.” Though depending on those sexual limits of hers and whether the sex got hotter—if that was even possible—I wouldn’t get sick of Bryce anytime soon. “Agreed?”

“Agreed.” She slid off her stool, slowly coming my way. “You should know, watching you do the dishes is really sexy.”

My cock twitched as she came into my space, ru

“I don’t cook breakfast.”

I dropped a kiss to her mouth and ran my tongue along the seam. “I wasn’t really talking about doing more dishes.”

She smiled against my mouth. “Then I guess you can stay.”