Filthy Daddy

“You know, I told you we should’ve filed a restraining order before we moved out here. I never liked that boy.”

“You’re probably right,” I concede. My lips press tightly together, glancing over at Tate as I wait to hear the rest.

There has to be more. I doubt the woman is prepared to let either of us leave her house without a safe sex lecture, given the state of her kitchen. Tate sports a strange look of utter embarrassment. I’ve never seen him this way. Clearly, he has no clue how to win over a woman’s mother. I mentally roll my eyes, unsure why I’d expect anything more from a badass biker who hangs around old-school types. Men who like to believe casual Fridays at the office means they can screw four women at the same time, rather than dress down.

If I didn’t know him better, I’d think he feels that way too.

But I know Tate.

We’ve been more to each other than either of us cares to admit.

“And is there more that you’d like to tell your own mother?”

“About what?” I ask, feigning ignorance, but this is the other shoe dropping.

“Have you forgotten that I know you, young lady?”

I snap back into the picture as Mom covers the sides of her face with each hand now that her shopping bags are on the counter—next to the sex toys. Heat rises up my cheeks. There’s no fixing this giant kinky mess.

“I’m really sorry?” I say in a question. That’s all I come up with.

“Back to what I was saying to your friend over here, Molly. I’m not deaf, dumb, and blind, and I’m not as innocent as I look. You don’t have to pretend with me, okay? You’re an adult. Do what you want, just not on my brand new granite counters. And regarding this announcement about leaving for a few days… please promise me that you’ll be careful.”

“I will.”

“And give me a call if you’re going to be longer than a week so that I don’t worry. This place feels big and lonely without you, dear.”

“Definitely. Of course, I’ll check in.”

“I’ll leave you two to do whatever needs doing to put my kitchen back in order…after I step out of it so you can take your time, yes?”

“We will,” Tate answers and starts toward the pile of naughty gear.

I wish I knew what happened to my biker badass. My mother arches a brow, giving me a look that says everything without a word from her perfectly made-up mouth. I’m so going to hear about this over the phone later.

“Yes, Mom. We’ll take care of everything, then we’ll get out of your hair.”

“And Molly, darling?”

“Yes, Mom?”

“You can find the industrial cleaning supplies that the maids use under that counter.” With a wink, Mom heads toward the hallway and disappears around the corner.

Tate and I make quick work of tidying up the room. He’s pretty helpful, considering that most of the live-in MC sack demon groupies keep the clubhouse clean so the big boys won’t have to lift a finger most of the time. He starts to scrub the already clean sink with a sponge. I almost stop him but don’t. If he wants to leave the place spotless, including places we haven’t touched, he can have at it.

“I’m surprised you’re okay with staying at the clubhouse until we take care of your stalker problem,” Tate mentions over his shoulder while he scrubs the counter.

“I figured that would be your first suggestion. That’s why I resigned myself to roll with it.”

“Good.” His lips form a thin line. I know he doesn’t like being pegged as predictable. I watch out of the corner of my eye as Tate adjusts his cock in his pants. Poor guy. I silently promise myself I’ll fix it later.

After a few minutes, I survey the kitchen. It’s back to how we found it. “Thanks for helping me tidy up. You didn’t have to go to all this trouble.”

He shrugs. “It’s cool. We both shocked the shit out of your mother. I don’t mind paying the price of admission.” Tucking the rags away in the bottom cupboard, he turns to me and crosses his arms. “We’ve got to leave now. Pack whatever you need. I want your pretty ass out the door ASAP.”