Chapter 12: The Devil’s Reward: Chapter 11

“It’s not funny,” I growl into the phone, ignoring my pouting daughter as she picks at her food and gives me what I’m sure she thinks are sly glares. I don’t need to be a genius to know that my daughter is currently plotting my demise, as well as how to liberate the bag of chips from my purse.

My mother is currently laughing her butt off, with my father joining in the background. I called to scold my father for what he said to Macy, who has now used that advice to coerce contraband out of a large, and far too good looking, biker. If she did it with him, then it’s only a matter of time before she tries it with someone else, and not all men are as good natured as Shadow.

“That’s my girl!” my father cheers in the background. “Keeping those boys in their place and on their toes. By the time she hits high school, she’ll be crushing hearts left, right, and center.”

“With all the grace and beauty of her mother too,” my mother adds, making me roll my eyes. I swear to God, sometimes I wonder if I’m adopted. Between them and my older sister Peyton, they have confidence in spades. I think by the time I came along, the well had run dry, which is why I ended up the shy, awkward one, while my sister was the popular, social one.

Still, growing up, we always knew that if we had a problem, we could go to our parents, no matter what. They never judged and only encouraged us. Sometimes a little too much, but they meant well, so I don’t hold it against them. Hell, I remember the time that Peyton came home and outright announced she had just lost her virginity to the high school football captain. My parents just stared at her, and I was sure they were about to blow up. Nope. They sat her down to ask her if she was okay, had been safe, and wasn’t pressured into anything.

The whole shotgun dad stereotype? Yeah, that’s not my father. He merely told the boy in question that if he hurt Peyton, he would haul his gun out from under the bed, but until then, he best make sure he was protecting them both, and they wouldn’t have a problem.

I don’t know that I’ll ever be that calm and reasonable with Macy. God, she already acts so much like Peyton. I don’t know how I’m going to survive her teenage years.

“I told you Grandpa would be proud of me,” Macy says loudly and righteously from the table, making me turn and narrow my eyes at her. She holds my glare for a few seconds of defiance before she looks away and hunches her shoulders.

“I don’t care if Grandpa is proud of you,” I say just as loudly and pointedly. “You know better than to talk to strangers, Macy, and you shouldn’t have done it.”

“He had the same logo on his vest as the wall, so I thought he worked there,” she defended.

“Quinn,” my mother says calmly, pulling my attention back to her. “No harm was done, and from what it sounds like, Macy made a new friend. And you said that it’s the same man you’re dealing with through work, so it’s nothing to worry about.”

“I didn’t know that at the time though,” I argue. “Look, Dad, please just watch your words next time. Macy is five, not fifteen and there is no need to worry about keeping boys on their toes at this age. She needs to focus on chasing them around the playground and learning to be nice to them in the classroom.”

My father scoffs. “Never too early, if you ask me, Quinnie. But fine, I’ll keep my advice to myself from now on.”

I sigh. “Not everything, Dad. Just when it comes to boys and Macy. When she’s older and noticing boys, I’ll happily send her to you for advice.”

“Deal,” he replies cheerfully.

“Speaking of boys,” my mother purrs, making me groan. I know exactly what’s coming. “When are you going to see some boys, Quinn? Well, preferably not boys, but men that could help you, you know, dust off those cobwebs.”

I let my head fall back on my shoulders and stare at the ceiling as if it’s going to give me the answers I desperately seek. “Mom,” I reply patiently, “I don’t need a man. I’m perfectly happy.”

Mom snorts. “Honey, a hunk of silicone can only do so much. Trust me, I know.” My face flames and I briefly think about hanging up, especially when my father calls out his thoughts on the subject.

“Your mother’s right, honey. I mean, I know she likes that one she has upstairs, but she’s always telling me how much she loves my—”

“Dad!” I shriek, stopping him, though my mother just laughs.

“You know, Quinn, you wouldn’t be so embarrassed if you were getting some yourself,” my mother points out.

“I’m going to hang up,” I warn her.

“Alright, alright, no need to be so touchy. Now, how about we discuss our plans for our visit next week? We would love to keep Macy for a night by ourselves, so that means you’ll be free to go out and spend time with friends, and who knows, maybe you’ll meet a handsome stranger you can go home with.”

“Mom,” I warn.

“Fine, fine,” she grumbles.

“If you want a night alone with Macy, I’m sure I can find something to occupy my time,” I assure her. “Is Peyton coming too?”

“As far as we know,” Mom replies. “You know your sister. She’s always busy and getting pulled into all kinds of things at work.”

She’s right on that. Peyton is an architect, and she’s in high demand back home. Her firm is constantly giving her bigger and bigger projects to work on, but I can tell she’s getting pissed about it. She rarely gets time off, though she’ll be off for the two weeks she’s here with my parents for their annual visit.

“I tell her she should put her phone on silent and ignore it. Or put an alert on that says not to bother her.”

“She’d never do that. It’d be like if you put your phone on silent for any of the people you deal with,” Mom points out.

“Yes, but mine can be life or death. Hers is her asshole bosses trying to squeeze every drop out of her before they finally give her the partnership she deserves.” Personally, if I thought Peyton would listen, I’d tell her to find another place to work or start her own firm. Most of her work is by request or commission, it would hardly be a hardship.

“You know Peyton is stubborn,” Mom sighs. “She’ll see it eventually and walk away, but not before she’s ready. Now, what are we doing while we’re up there?”

By the time we’re done talking fifteen minutes later, our entire two weeks are planned out. Most of it consists of my parents spending time with Macy and taking her places, leaving Peyton and me on our own. Which probably means lots of shopping and a few nights out. All things I’m okay with. My sister is fun to be around, though going to a club or bar really isn’t what I normally do.

It’s not like I have any friends around here. My job is in an office by myself, and I spend most of my time with Macy, or watching Parker, so it’s not like I have a lot of opportunities to socialize. I tried one of those mom groups, but they were far too judgemental and catty for me. So I slipped away, and I doubt any of them noticed. None of them reached out to me either. Probably for the best.

I get Macy into the tub for bath time and then ready for bed. When she’s finally asleep and I can slip into my room with its small ensuite bathroom, I’m desperate to relax. It’s been a busy, and stressful, day. I draw my bath and pour in some of my favorite bubble bath before I head downstairs to grab a glass of wine. I rarely drink, but it’s the end of the work week, which means I’ve earned it.

When I’m finally laying in the hot water, I let all the stress drain away. The heat of the bath, and the smell of the bubbles relax me, and I let my mind drift. Only, instead of creating some fantasy, my thoughts return to Shadow. My mind conjures up the memory of him grinning down at Macy, looking far too handsome for his own good.

Who knew that a man that good looking would give a little girl the time of day? Or allow himself to be conned out of some chips? It doesn’t exactly fit the biker stereotype, but from what I’ve heard, The Devil’s Soldiers MC aren’t stereotypical at all. They do all kinds of things for charity, and I think I read something in the news the other day that they teamed up with Lincoln Technologies for some causes in the past. I highly doubt a family as affluent and influential as the Lincolns would team up with a group they didn’t support or agree with.

I probably shouldn’t be thinking about him at all. It’s obvious he would never be interested in a woman like me. Not to mention the professional side of things. I want him to hire people I send him, so I need to consider him a colleague, and nothing more.

, my brain taunts.

No, no, I need to forget about that.

My phone rings on the edge of the tub and I groan. Looking at the display, I see it’s my sister video calling me. I glance at myself quickly. I’m hidden under the bubbles, so I grab it and swipe my finger across the screen.

Eyes exactly like mine look back at me, and she grins. “Well, at least you’re covered,” Peyton drawls. “Hope I’m not interrupting anything.” She wiggles her eyebrows at me suggestively.

I roll mine. “Just lounging in the bath, trying to relax,” I reply. “Any particular reason you’re interrupting the few precious moments I have to myself?”

She grins at me wickedly. “Well, I wondered if you finally tried out that rose I sent you. You can’t tell me that thing doesn’t suck the life right out of your body.”

I know exactly what rose she’s talking about. Though, I use that term very loosely. She means the rose-shaped sex toy she randomly sent me a few weeks ago. I don’t understand why she did, but I won’t lie, I was curious enough to try it out, and it had me seeing stars. Not that I’ll tell her. Still, I can’t help the blush that heats my face, and I pray she’ll think it’s just the heat from the water. “No, I’m not using that,” I say primly.

She rolls her eyes at me. “Don’t be a prude, Quinnie,” she admonishes.

Sometimes I wonder how the two of us are related. I’m simple and plain, while my sister is the exact opposite. She’s dyed her hair a dark purple color, styled it long on top and shaved on the sides and back, and got a nose stud a couple years ago. She always wears edgy clothes and makeup, while I prefer low key and comfortable. Still, she’s my sister and best friend.

“Was there a point to your call?” I ask her, changing the subject.

“You mean other than you and I planning an amazing girls’ night out? I’m talking clubs, drinks, and some hot men to dance with. Maybe even to take home.” She gives me a suggestive wink.

I groan. “Peyton,” I whine. “Why can’t a girl’s night be a spa and a movie or something? You know that’s not my kind of scene.”

“It’s not, but it should be,” she shrugs. “And you’re going. We need to do something fun while I’m there, and I’m going to turn you from wallflower to the belle of the ball.”

I snort. “Those romance books you’ve been reading are seriously going to your head.”

“Or just giving me better ideas,” she laughs. “Trust me, Quinnie, read them like instruction manuals, and men will thank you. I have a few you really need to check out.”

I sigh. “Fine, send them to me, but I make no promises. You know I don’t get a lot of time to read.”

“Trust me, you’ll make time for these.” She fans herself dramatically. I laugh, settling in as she goes into detail about one of the books. These are the times that I desperately miss my sister. I’m glad that she and my parents will be here soon.

When I finally hang up with her, the bath has gone cool, so I grab the shower wand to wash off quickly before climbing out and pull the plug. I dry off and get ready for bed before heading back into my room, my head still whirling from my conversation with Peyton. Not just about the books, but her idea of going out for fun.

I hate to say it, but I’ve let myself become only a mom. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, because motherhood is the best thing that’s ever happened to me, but people always say to never forget you’re a woman as well. More than just someone who chases the monsters away, or helps with homework. Or, in Macy’s case, keep her out of trouble.

Still, Macy has been my only focus for the past five years, so much so that my only friend is my sister. I don’t have anyone else to talk to when I’m having a rough day, or when I want to laugh and unwind. I moved us here for my job, and while I made an effort in the beginning, after a while it was just too hard, and honestly, I never really fit in anywhere.

I thought Parker’s mom had potential, but I quickly realized she wasn’t looking for a friend, just someone to watch her son. And I’m okay with that, especially since Parker is an amazing kid. Then there was the mom group, but that didn’t work out, so I stopped trying. I guess I need to try again.

Still, making new friends as an adult is tough. There’s always questions about my past, about Macy. How do you tell people those kinds of things? I look at the nightstand, where I have a picture of myself and Macy. We were having a fun day at the beach, and the sun was setting when I took it. It’s a beautiful photo, but Macy’s father is glaringly absent from it. The only picture of him in the house is in Macy’s room and that says a lot. And I really don’t feel like explaining the whole situation, only to be pitied and made a spectacle. I don’t need that, and neither does Macy. She’s too young to understand, but one day, I’ll have to explain it to her.

Just not now.

So even if I find friends, there are parts of my life I won’t be able to share. That I don’t to share. So I’ll forget about trying to make friends for now. Instead, I’ll focus on my visit with my family and then worry about the rest later.

I climb into bed, happy with my decision, and I’m out before my head hits the pillow.