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As she often did, Sienawoke in the night. Usually, unless her brain was chewing on some problem and her night was restless anyway, she just rolled over and lay still until she went back to sleep. Tonight, though, she felt strange right away, constrained and disoriented, like she was trapped somewhere unfamiliar and a sudden rush of adrenaline woke her fully.
She was about to sit up and get her bearings when she understood: she was home, in her bed. And Cooper was with her. She felt constrained because he was holding her. He lay behind her, his arm over her waist, under her arm. His hand on her chest.
They were spooning. The adrenaline washed away on a wave of happiness, and she settled into her pillow.
He’d introduced her to a lot of people, mostly men, last night. Too many men to keep straight, honestly. She’d remember Kai, because he was memorable, and a couple others, but for the most part, she’d met a lot of shaggy, bearded, big, leather-clad bikers, all of whom had been far friendlier—and trulynicer—than she would have expected from men who looked like that.
Books and their covers. Tough to judge.
The bikers had all behaved like she was extremely fascinating for being Cooper’s ‘lady.’ He’d told her he’d never had a girlfriend before, and the surprise on all those hairy faces had underscored it as a truth.
He’d introduced her to only a couple women: one was named Lyra, and she’d seemed to be more or less in charge of the party. Lyra, too, had been surprised and very interested to meet her. Siena wasn’t sure she still remembered how to make friends, and she wasn’t sure she really wanted to relearn the skill, but Lyra was another Bull’s ‘lady,’ and apparently they were the only two, so it could be good to be friends.
Would the Bulls be her family, too, if she and Cooper made a real go of this? They would, wouldn’t they? In fact, a couple of them had actually said something along those lines—an older guy with a long, thick mane of still-dark hair had even literally said, ‘welcome to the family.’
She and Geneva would be part of the family Cooper had found for himself.
Huh. What would her sister think of that? To have, like, uncles and aunts and ... people who cared. Who would take care.
As that thought wrapped her up like a warm blanket, and Cooper’s arm pulled her closer to his warm body, Siena slipped back into contented sleep.
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~oOo~
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When next she woke, the sun was up and she was alone in bed. Flipping to her back, she saw the mussed, empty side where Cooper had been, but the only thing left of him was the depression in the pillow.
Before she could start to panic, though, she heard his laugh—and Geneva’s too. They were up together.
Siena lay in bed for a few minutes, smiling as she tried to hear more through the closed door. All she could make out was the rumble of their conversation, but the tone of that rumble was lighthearted. Happy.
She climbed from the bed, found a pair of gym shorts and a t-shirt, and went out of her room to join ... her family. Which seemed to have grown quite a bit, suddenly.
As soon as she opened the door, she knew what they were up to. The scents of bacon and coffee, and the snap and sizzle of the bacon in the pan, swaddled her head. Almost as pleasant and happy-making as the sounds of easy conversation coming from the kitchen.
She headed down the hall and out to the main living area. She stopped at the doorway and watched before they saw her.
Cooper was at the stove, frying the bacon. Geneva was setting the table, making actual place settings and using cloth napkins.
“I could show you how to play,” Geneva was saying. “It’s not difficult to learn. There’s a lot of strategy, but the actual rules aren’t hard.”
“Well, it’s something you do in a group, right? So I’d have to commit to playing on the regular. That’s not gonna work for me.”
Geneva went around the table to make sure the place settings were straight. “I think that’s a dumb way to say ‘regularly.’ It’s not grammatical. Why do people say it like that?”
Cooper looked over with a grin. “It’s slang, Robin. I don’t think slang has to follow the rules.” His grin sharpened to a point. “That’s why I like it.”
Geneva laughed. “You’re a grammar outlaw.”
“That’s me, yep. I don’t need no stinkin’ rules.”
The timer went off, and Cooper grabbed the oven mitt from the hook on the side of the fridge. As Siena watched, still unnoticed, he opened the oven and pulled out Grammy Joan’s cast-iron skillet. He set it on the stove, and Siena couldn’t believe what she saw—and smelled! Delicious, rich, vanilla-y, pastry.
She came into the room. “You made a Dutch baby?”