“Creamer,” her dad ordered.
“For Pete’s sake, Walter. I’m bringing it,” she grumbled.
“Don’t call me Walter, girl.”
Lynn slammed the creamer in front of Walter. “Don’t call me girl.”
He huffed and grabbed the bottle of creamer. “Never heard of a child calling their dad by his real name.”
Lynn rolled her eyes. “I’m twenty-nine years old, Walter. It’s not like I’m five years old calling you it.”
He poured a long glug of creamer into his coffee. “You can call me Walter when I’m dead.”
Lynn sat down in the chair next to me and unwrapped her burrito. “You’re too ornery to die. God doesn’t want to put up with you up there.”
Walter scoffed. “My luck, I’ll be stuck terrorizing the Devil.”
Lynn took a big bite and motioned to me. “Are you going to eat, or are you full from Dad’s peppers?”
My jaw dropped, and Walter let out a holler.
“How did you know?” I asked.
Lynn rolled her eyes. “Give me a little bit of credit, will you?” she laughed. “I’ve gotten that burrito before, and they do not skimp on the jalapeños. I knew there was no way in hell that Dad would be able to eat even one bite without steam coming out of his ears.” She wagged her finger at Walter. “I ought to make you my chipotle nachos and force you to eat them for lying to me.”
Walter shook his head. “Ain’t happening, girlie. I’m not touching anything you make that has even a hint of spice in it. You like to have your mouth burn like hell when you eat.”
Lynn took a huge bite of her burrito. A huge jalapeño hung from her mouth, and she slurped it into her mouth. “I like flavor.”
I chuckled and finally unwrapped my burrito. “If I would have known you knew he gave me his peppers, I wouldn’t have shot-gunned them.”
Lynn laughed. “Serves you right.”
I took a huge bite and was thankful I had something more in my mouth than just jalapeños this time.
“How long have you been in the club?” Walter asked.
“The Kings? Since it started.”
“What did you do before? The Kings of Vengeance haven’t been around for that long.”
I shrugged. “A little bit of everything. I was part of another club, but things didn’t work. Did the nomad thing for a few years.”
“Nomad?” Lynn asked. “What does that mean?”
“He’s a gypsy,” Walter muttered. “Now that’s living life. Going wherever you want, whenever you want. I wish I could have done that.”
Lynn dropped her burrito onto the wrapper. “Yeah, too bad you couldn’t have done that instead of raising Steph and me.”
Walter scoffed. “You know what the hell I mean, Lynn.”
She folded her arms over her chest but didn’t say anything more.
“I uh, got a call from one of my friends about the Kings, and that’s how I’m here now.” The air between Lynn and Walter had shifted. There was something I didn’t know about.
“You plan on sticking around for a while?” Walter asked.
I nodded and took a sip of my coffee. “That’s the plan. The urge to get back on the road hasn’t hit, and I don’t think it will.”
Walter nodded. “Good.”
Lynn rolled her eyes. “And why is that good?”
Walter shrugged. “You wake up on the wrong side of the bed, Lynn? You’re much more prickly than you normally are.”
Yeah. That wasn’t the best thing Walter could have said.
Lynn calmly put her hands on the table and slowly pushed her chair back. “You know what? I didn’t sleep well last night. I’m going to excuse myself and leave you to entertain Zephyr since you were the one who invited him in.” She stood, grabbed her burrito and cup, and nodded to me. “Have a good life, Zephyr.”
She turned on her heel and headed down the hallway in a huff until she disappeared into an open door and slammed it behind her.
Well, that took one hell of a turn.
“She’s a feisty one,” Walter laughed. “Suppose that’s partly my fault.”
I shoveled a huge bite into my mouth and washed it down with coffee. “You don’t say?”
What else could I say? I had wanted to come in to spend more time with Lynn, and now, I was having breakfast with just her dad.
Walter sighed. “I wasn’t the greatest dad for a few years. Lynn took up the reins and helped raise her sister during that time.”
“Sister?” I asked.
Walter nodded. “Yeah. Steph is nine years younger than Lynn. Their mom died while giving birth to Steph. None of us took it well.”
I could tell there was a whole hell of a lot more behind that statement. “We all just do the best we can, right?”
Walter nodded. “You always been into riding?” he asked, changing the subject.
I was thankful for the redirect and dove headfirst into the new topic.
Half an hour later, Lynn still hadn’t come out of her room. I managed to excuse my way out and walked back to my bike. I swung my leg over and started it up, then pulled my phone from my pocket and groaned when I saw it was barely eleven.
“Fucking hell,” I muttered. This was why I didn’t wake up so goddamn early. Too much fucking time in the day, which made you either be productive or lazy as hell.
I pulled out a cigarette and popped it into the corner of my mouth. After lighting the end, I glanced at Lynn’s house. A curtain on one of the windows moved to the side, and I caught a glimpse of Lynn’s face before she dropped the curtain back into place.
I knew she wasn’t back in her room sleeping, but the fact that she decided to leave me at the table with her dad surprised me. She either really didn’t want to be around me, or what her dad had said really pissed her off.
It might have been a combination of the two, but something told me Lynn had some issues with her dad that never really got resolved.
After I knocked up the kickstand, I rocketed off the curb and headed back to the clubhouse.
Lynn had said we were supposed to have one night, and that was it.
I took a left toward the clubhouse and smiled.
Too bad that wasn’t what I wanted.
*
Chapter Three
Sleep…
Lynn
“You can come out now.”
I rolled my eyes. “I’m sleeping.” God, I really wish I was sleeping.
Dad cleared his throat. “I came here because I need help setting up my meds, Lynn. I guess I’ll just skip taking my pills.”
And people said women were dramatic. I rolled over on my back and opened my eyes. “I’ll be there in a minute, Dad.”
“Good.”
I listened to him amble back down the hallway to the kitchen and sighed.
Of all of the days for Dad to decide he would come to me to set up his pills, it had to be today. For the past eight years, every Sunday at eleven o’clock, I got in my car, stopped at Frank’s Deli for two pastrami’s on rye, and then went to his place to set up his pills and have lunch.
The one morning in eight years where a man brings me home, Dad has to pull up before Zephyr can even start up his bike.