“Hey, beautiful,” he said as he strode into the kitchen. Curly stood at the coffee maker, filling his mug, so Scott made sure to plant a loud kiss on Brooke’s cheek. She laughed and swatted at his arm while Curly glared daggers.
Okay, maybe he wasn’t doing everything to get back on his prez’s good side. It was just too much fun to mess with him and his possessive nature when it came to his ol’ lady. Not that Scott would ever poach a brother’s woman. Even if he was that particular brand of asshole, Brooke wasn’t his type. She was far too kind for the likes of him. That and she’d been with a man who’d roughed her up. Scott wasn’t a soft man. Occasionally, he liked to fuck hard, bordering on aggressive and couldn’t be with a woman he’d be worried about triggering.
So Curly didn’t have a damn thing to worry about. Yet he did. And it was a hell of a lot of fun to screw with him.
“Hope you’re hungry,” Brooke said as she blushed. “I’m making enough for an army.”
“I’m always hungry. Why don’t you put me to work? My mama raised me right.”
Curly scoffed.
“Great.” With a broad smile, she handed him a spatula. “Flip those pancakes for me.” She pointed to two griddles loaded down with a dozen or so pancakes.
“Yes, ma’am.” He went to work, flipping the delicious-smelling pancakes. “Oh, I woke up your new best friend. Can you believe she was gonna sleep through this?” Shaking his head, he muttered, “Rude.”
When Brooke didn’t respond, he peered over his shoulder to find her standing at the stove, biting her lower lip. “I didn’t tell her about breakfast,” she said with a grimace. “Shit, I knew it was the wrong thing to do. Sometimes she seems overwhelmed by all of you guys, and I didn’t want her to feel pressured to show up if she wasn’t comfortable. Not everyone is used to being around a group of huge growly bikers.”
His stomach dipped. Well, shit. “So, she had no idea about breakfast?”
Another grimace. “No. Sorry.” Brooke pinched the bridge of her nose. “Tell me you weren’t a jerk to her.”
“What?” He scoffed. “No.”
She sent him a glare.
Geez, this was worse than getting scolded by his mom. “Maybe a little.”
“Scott!” There was a definite whine in her voice. She looked to her ol’ man. “Curly, can’t you force him to be nice to her? This is seriously getting old.”
The prez lifted his hands, “Babe, I warned you about this. Said you were on your own when it came to Livy.” His words said one thing, but the glare he shot Scott said another. Plus, he was calling her Livy?
For fuck’s sake.
Brooke’s scowl would’ve made him laugh if Curly wasn’t in the room. She was the sweetest woman but had a protective streak ten miles long for her rescues. And make no mistake, Olivia might not be a furry canine, but she was one of Brooke’s rescues. However, if he laughed, Curly would skin his hide.
She pointed the deadly end of a knife his way. “You’ll make nice when she gets here, you hear me? Whatever your issue is with her, put it aside for an hour so we can have a nice, drama-free breakfast.” She shifted the direction of the knife down to his beloved motorcycle boots. “If you don’t behave, I’ll make you keep Clipper for the week.”
“Damn, woman. You fight dirty.” Clipper was this adorable mutt Brooke began fostering last week. He was damn cute but had a serious shoe fetish and had already tried to gnaw on Scott’s boots. “How do you ever win an argument with her, Prez?”
Curly grunted, then took his coffee out of the kitchen, probably to go to his office and do whatever bullshit he had to do to keep the club running smoothly. “Scott, you’re meeting with Devos later, right?”
“Yes, boss. In three hours.” Devos was a contact who’d borrowed a cool fifty grand from the club. He was due to pay it back plus a disgusting amount of interest in a week. Scott planned to pop by and remind the man how important it was to meet that deadline. Though if he were honest, part of him hoped Devos would default. It’d give him a chance to beat on something other than the heavy bag that had taken quite a bit of abuse the past few days. Since his disastrous bar fight, he’d been trying to keep his hands to himself and needed a human outlet. And with Olivia around stirring up all sorts of shit in his head, he’d needed an outlet more than ever.
Speak of the devil, Olivia stepped into the kitchen wearing very short denim shorts that showed off her sexy legs and a yellow fitted T-shirt that outlined her breasts. What the hell happened to the fancy-assed dresses and ridiculous heels? Today she’d dressed like a Florida native, and she looked ten times sexier than she did in her thousand-dollar dresses.