Chapter Eleven

Bones

“You need what?”

I sat back in my chair, extended my legs out in front of me, and tried to keep a straight face. “I don’t know jack shit about baking, but I want to help Snow.”

Mickey raised an eyebrow with a smirk forming as he leaned back. “That the sexy neighbor next door?”

I bit back the urge to tell him to keep his thoughts to himself about Snow. She was, no doubt, sexy as hell—but I didn’t need Mickey commenting on it. “Yeah,” I answered as nonchalantly as I could manage.

Mickey tapped his fingers on the table, considering. “And what are we going to get out of this?”

I had expected this. Mickey never agreed to anything without some kind of trade. Last night, as I watched Snow through the window while she worked late, I’d come up with the idea to bring in some help. Mickey and his club knew enough people in town that it was worth a shot.

“I’ll get you that new exhaust you’ve been wanting for your bike,” I offered. “And I’ll install it for free.”

He chuckled and crossed his arms. “I’m not gonna turn that down, but how about something else? Like you finally joining the club instead of dancing around it?”

I exhaled and wasn’t surprised. Mickey had been pushing for me to join the club for months now. And it wasn’t that I was against it; it was more that I didn’t think I had the time for the commitment that came with it. “I’m good with how my life is right now, Mickey. I know the club’s gonna need my time, and I don’t know if I can offer that right now.”

“Listen,” he said and leaned forward, “it’s not as demanding as you think. Meetings and the occasional run—that’s it. But I like the idea of having you in the club to keep our bikes in shape.”

I let out a reluctant laugh. “Fine, count me in—if you can help out Snow.”

A grin broke across Mickey’s face as he called out, “Wick! Get your ass over here.”

Wick ambled over from the pool table with a beer in hand. It wasn’t even noon, but it seemed like Wick believed in the saying that it was five o’clock somewhere. “What’s up?” he asked.

Mickey wasted no time. “You know anyone who can bake?”

Wick smirked and pointed over his shoulder at Nut, who was engrossed in a game of darts. “That dumbass right there. He went through pastry school back home.”

I turned to Nut in surprise. “No shit.”

“Yeah, and Guns’ old lady is a pretty damn good baker, too,” Wick added. “The chocolate chip cookies he brings in every week? All hers.”

Mickey’s grin spread wider. “Perfect. Nut and Guns’ old lady can be your bakers.”

I nodded, my mind racing with possibilities. “I could use a couple of guys for packing and deliveries, too.” I had to assume that baking was not the only thing that Snow was going to need help with.

Mickey gave a satisfied nod. “Wick here can help, and I’ll rotate guys in as you need ‘em.”

This was turning out even better than I’d imagined. I’d been hoping for one or two of the club’s old ladies who knew their way around a mixer—never expected a whole team.

Mickey tapped his fingers on the table. “I’ll talk to Guns and see when his old lady’s free. When are you thinking they’ll need to head over?”

I straightened and considered everything. I’d need to give Snow a heads-up. I didn’t want them just showing up on her doorstep. “Give me a couple of hours.”

Mickey gave me a knowing smile. “Let’s hope she doesn’t kick your ass for butting in on her business, Bones.”

I returned his smile and let out a slow breath.

“Yeah,” I said, half to myself. “Let’s hope so.”