CHAPTER TWO

TIMBER

"Timber and Lindy sitting in a tree. K-I-S-S-I-N-G," Fox sings as he enters Reaper's Revamp, the MC's customs auto body shop that I manage. It'd look bad to deck our VP in his smug face, but my fist itches nonetheless.

"You're a fucking menace," I mutter, ignoring the rest of the song about love, marriage, and babies.

"And you're a fucking sap. Yellow daisies? Somehow that's more serious than roses."

"What are you talking about?"

"Come on, don't pretend. Everyone knows you've got a thing for Lindy." Fox looks around the garage, gathering affirmative nods from the other Reaper's Revamp employees and club members. "It's nice to know you're finally doing something about it instead of continuing to lurk around her whenever she makes an appearance."

"I don't lurk," I grumble. Do I make sure I'm within range to protect her if something goes wrong? Sure. But that's not lurking. That's being proactive. Smart. Especially since I've had to step in a couple of times when things got a little dicey with club business.

Like those crazed church congregants who wouldn't leave us alone.

Like the fire at Club Wolf where her ex-boyfriend— a fucking cop —showed up at the scene.

"No, you just happen to be Lindy's second shadow." Fox rolls his eyes. "Either way, the yellow daisies were an unexpected move. I didn't peg you as a flower guy."

Tossing my wrench aside, I straighten from my bent position under the hood of a ‘67 Ford Mustang. It's obvious Fox won't let me work in peace until he's done spouting off whatever nonsense he's going on about.

"Enough with the riddles. What flowers?"

"The ones delivered to Lindy this morning. The prospect on duty signed for them after the driver said who they were for. You didn't send them?"

My gut clenches in tight knots. "No, I didn't."

But I'm going to find out who did.

I've been giving Lindy time to heal after her ordeal with Dean. She's been living on the compound for a while now, and it's no secret how I feel about her. The guys like to tease me about it, and I'm sure Caroline and the rest of her book club friends—which includes Lindy—talk about it, too.

So, who would try to snatch her out from under me by sending a bouquet of flowers?

Fox whistles, his brows lifting in surprise. "Seems your girl's got a secret admirer then, and you've got some competition." He props a booted foot against a red tool cabinet and leans back with his tattooed arms crossed over his chest. "What are you going to do about it? And before you ask… No, Ollie will not hack into the flower shop's records to learn who purchased them."

I figured as much.

But there's no stopping me from questioning the prospect about the bouquet packaging, finding out the shop name, then casually stopping by to do reconnaissance.