“Well, limited experience, considering I was young and stupid when Lexie was this age.” I pointed with my head to the baby.
Gwen leaned into Cade, whose hand had settled around her waist. “Don’t be modest. Belle had been screaming for hours and I was about to have a mental breakdown and she whisks in here and silences her in mere moments. She has the skills,” she stage-whispered to her husband.
He half frowned at Gwen, as if he was considering a thought. “Baby, you know I’ll make myself available for you. You need to call, call,” he said softly.
Gwen merely rolled her eyes.
Cade seemed used to this, as his eyes moved to me and he stood. “Thanks, Mia, I really do appreciate you looking out for my girls,” he said sincerely, moving slowly to take the child out of my hands.
My womb clenched slightly at the sight of such a male cradling his child like it was the answer to every question in the universe.
“No problem,” I answered genuinely. “And if you ever want a night sans rugrats, give me a call. Lexie and I would be happy to babysit.”
Cade gave me a look. “’Appreciate it,” he nodded, half smiling.
I had decided to ignore Zane during this exchange and I decided I would continue to do so even though I felt his stare burning into me.
“Speaking of Lexie, I’ve got to run and save her from a potentially disastrous situation,” I said gravely, gathering my things.
At this, I felt the air turned charged. “What the fuck, Mia?” Zane’s clipped tone was close and it seemed he had moved from the door to my side in a millisecond.
I ached to touch him.
Instead, I glanced at him. “She may have a mental breakdown on a pile of clothes. Nothing to worry about,” I told him lightly. “Or she could go onstage wearing a haphazardly put together outfit and then forever resent me for not saving her from a fashion faux pas.” I paused. “Either way, I have to deal with dire consequences if I do not leave soon.”
Gwen had perked up. “Ooh. Fashion emergency, I can totally help.” Her eyes brightened. “I can even bring stuff. Lexie’s my size. What’s it for?”
I was slightly taken aback at her offer, considering the price tags I knew came with her designer duds. I wouldn’t be offering them up to a teenage girl if I were her. I’d crawl into a cave cradling them and proclaiming them “my precious.”
I jerked myself out of my cave full of imaginary designer purchases. “She’s got a gig. Her first one with her band. It’s at some club in Hope—needless to say she is freaking out,” I told her with a grin. “I personally think it’s because this gig is the beginning of a stellar career, in which she needs to be shod in the right shoes in order to pave her way to superstardom,” I said, shrugging my shoulders.
Gwen nodded gravely. But before she could speak an alpha male interrupted.
Zane stepped closer, if that was possible. “A gig? In Hope? What club?” He growled tightly.
I stared at him.
“Babe,” he clipped.
“Sorry, I’m just not used to such an array of questions in such an articulate manner,” I shot sarcastically.
Gwen’s choked laugh had me proud of my statement, regardless of the glower it rewarded me.
“Yes, Zane, Lexie has a gig. It’s at some place called Al’s or Hal’s….” I listed, trying to remember.
“Cal’s?” Cade shot, equally grim.
I pointed at him and nodded. “Cal’s. Googled it. Doesn’t look like much, but it’s a good place for undercover record execs to hang. Plus, I talked to Cal on the phone to make sure everything was legit. Seems like a nice guy.”
Gwen brightened. “Awesome. I’ll get outfit choices, bring them round to your place and me and the girls can come to the gig. I’ll call Amy.” She made to run out of the room but Cade grabbed her hand. I was impressed, considering she had a pace on and he managed to stop her and keep hold of a sleeping baby at the same time. Was there no end to macho man powers?
“You ain’t going anywhere, baby,” he said firmly.
Gwen glowered at him, but I didn’t get to see the response to that one considering a staunch biker clutched my arm and dragged me off into a corner.
“Lexie is not fuckin’ playing that gig,” he told me in a harsh tone.
My eyes widened. “Um, did we have sex sixteen years ago?” I asked.
Zane didn’t answer, just clenched his jaw.
I carried on. “Yeah, didn’t think I’d forget that. So that means you didn’t sire a child by me, therefore, you are not Lexie’s father, therefore you do not get to dictate what gigs she does or doesn’t do,” I whispered angrily.
The grip on my wrist tightened. “She’s a fuckin’ kid. She isn’t playin’ at a goddamned club,” he bit out, invading my space.
I bristled slightly. “She’s not a kid, she’s a teenager,” I enunciated the last word. “So, not only would forbidding her to go make her shimmy down a drainpipe or commence a year-long rebellious streak, it would also be me saying no to her dream. I’m not doing that,” I told him firmly.
A muscle in his jaw clenched. “It’s a fuckin’ club,” he repeated.
“I’m aware,” I answered.
“Then you’ll be aware it’s not fuckin’ safe for a teenage fuckin’ girl to be going to a club.” He spoke slowly, as if he had to restrain himself from yelling.
“Which is why I’m not sending her off with a bottle of Jack and letting her go on Metallica’s tour bus for a month. I’m chaperoning. Me. An adult. Will be there at all times, making sure her innocent teenage soul isn’t corrupted at the sight of a cocktail,” I told him, having to restrain myself from yelling.
Zane was silent, and I tried to get out of his grip but he held me tightly.
“It’s not safe for you either,” he bit out.
“I’ll be sure to take my rape whistle,” I told him sarcastically. “I think I’ll be fine in a club in a tiny town.” I patted his arm condescendingly. “Now if you’ll excuse me.” I wrenched my arm out of his grasp with extreme effort. “I’ve got a fashion emergency to attend to.”