Craving Rose (The Aces' Sons 5)

“She coulda picked a better way to show everyone she’s done moonin’ over Copper’s idiot ass,” I bitched, peeling off my socks. “She took it too fuckin’ far.”

“Pudding in your boots is nothin’,” he replied in surprise. “Have you even checked your bike yet?”

“Sonofabitch,” I yelled, running as best I could toward the row of bikes parked along the building. I must have looked like a complete idiot as I jerked and swayed, the gravel biting into the soles of my feet.

I ignored Will’s laughter as I checked my bike over, making sure she hadn’t scratched anything or taken anything out of my saddlebags. I knew she wouldn’t have messed with the tires or anything else that could get someone hurt, but everything else was fair game. When I reached into my saddlebag, I found an envelope that I hadn’t put there and pulled it out.

You needed new ones anyway was scrawled across the front. Inside was a gift certificate worth a grip to the shop where most of us bought our leathers and had them repaired.

“Well, shit,” I murmured, my anger dissolving instantly.

* * *

“Seriously, Dad,” Kara asked me that night as I grabbed a box of rubber gloves off the shelf. “What the heck are we buying all of this for?”

“Sometimes, baby, you have to fight fire with fire,” I replied distractedly.

“Okay, now you really need to clarify,” she said, skipping to catch up with me as I headed to the front of the store.

“Don’t worry about it.”

She scoffed.

I had no idea how to give Rose back the gift certificate she’d left on my bike. She and I had never been close, but even I knew that she was crazy stubborn. Problem was, I just couldn’t accept it. She was right—it was time for new boots, anyway. I just hadn’t gotten around to buying any because it took a long ass time to wear them in to the point that they were actually comfortable, so I’d been lazy about making the change.

Right now, I was on a different mission. Her gift didn’t change the fact that she’d put pudding in my boots. Luckily, I’d had a pair of flip flops at the club for when I took Kara swimming, so I hadn’t had to ride home barefoot—but I may as well have. It wasn’t a big deal to me, but I’d had to listen to Kara bitch for the last thirty minutes about how I didn’t let her wear open toed shoes on the bike. That thirty minutes of whining had cemented the retribution that I was planning for Rose.

Plain and simple, she shouldn’t have escalated shit. I wasn’t one of her brothers that tucked his tail between his legs when she got a little crazy for fear that the next prank would be far worse. Fuck that. I could take anything she threw at me and send it right back.

Which was why me and Kara were gathering supplies at the drugstore, instead of at home barbequing the steaks I’d had marinating all day.

“Can I get a candy bar?” Kara asked, bouncing on her toes. “I’m starving.”

I looked at my daughter and I couldn’t help but grin. The braids she’d put in her hair that morning were a tangled mess, and she had a streak of dirt on her neck from God knew what. Sometimes it was easy to forget how young she really was. Twelve seemed to be right in the middle of little girl shit and teenager shit. So, she may have been wearing makeup when we left the house that morning, but by the time I’d picked her up, she was covered in dirt and had proudly showed off a long scratch on her knee that she’d got riding bikes with the kids.

“Sure,” I said, laughing as she did a little dance. “Grab me one, too.”

I watched the clock as we headed home. It was still a few hours before Rose left for work, so we had some time. I wasn’t positive that she’d be bartending tonight, but there was a pretty good chance. I’d noticed that she worked a lot. Unless there was something going on at the club or her family had plans, by seven o’clock, she was slinging drinks somewhere. Last time I’d counted, she had two regular jobs and another where she picked up shifts when someone called in sick.

After a whole lot of grumbling, Kara went up to shower off the day’s sweat and sunblock while I put dinner on the grill. God, I loved summer. Even when I worked a full eight hours, we still always had at least a few hours of light when we got home to hang outside or go do something fun. Plus, it was nice to grill when it wasn’t raining—not like a little rain had ever stopped me.