Joker’s body got tight.
“Say again?” he demanded.
She shook her head, still grinning. “I’ll say I was a little freaked when I saw his name on my phone, because he’s not supposed to call me unless there’s an emergency with Travis. There wasn’t. He’s fine.”
“So why did that fuck call?” Joker bit out.
“Because,” she was still smiling, “he has a date!”
Joker frowned down at her. “And he thought you gave a fuck about that because…?”
“Because Aaron asked that, instead of his mom and dad looking after Travis while he takes this woman out, maybe you and me would do it.”
It was then Joker stared down at her.
“I said yes, of course,” she continued. “He’s bringing him over tomorrow night.”
“You’re shittin’ me.”
She kept smiling but did it shaking her head, her hair brushing her shoulders, giving him a show he really liked. “Nope.”
The guy did have a soul.
And he was moving on.
And the biggest surprise of all that shit, he was finally demonstrating he wanted to give Carrie what she actually wanted, a copasetic relationship between all of them for Travis’s sake.
Maybe he did love Carissa.
But this kind of love, Joker could deal.
His relief was so great he dropped his head so his forehead was resting on hers.
“Yeah, sweetie. This is awesome,” she whispered, staring into his eyes.
“Yeah, Carrie, it is, baby,” he agreed.
“Joke, brother, I get Carrie’s ass in those jeans demands a man’s hands in her pockets, but shit’s happenin’!” Boz shouted.
Joker watched Carissa’s eyes smile.
Then he felt her lips brush his.
He went in and made the kiss deeper and wetter, but he couldn’t make it longer.
When he broke it, he asked, “You’re gonna hang?”
“Wouldn’t miss this,” she whispered.
He grinned at her.
Then he kissed her forehead and let her go.
* * *
Joker pulled the stroller out of the back of the truck, shook it out, and shoved his foot down on the pedal that locked it.
The second he was done, Carissa was right there, planting Travis’s ass in it.
But she was doing this being sassy.
“I cannot believe you’re taking us to the mall.”
“You wanted a burger. We got your boy, can’t go to a bar, and Johnny Rockets is here,” he reminded her.
She looked up at him as he scanned the parking garage, making sure it was safe before he started pushing the stroller.
She fell in beside him and declared, “Just to say, Gunther Toody’s is more fun and it isn’t in a mall.”
“I’m hungry and that’s further away,” he muttered.
“By, like, five minutes,” she retorted.
He ignored that, maneuvered the stroller down some stairs with Carissa spotting, and then she dashed forward to open the door.
“And just to say,” she went at him again when they were inside, “you couldn’t have parked further away. Johnny Rockets is all the way at the other side.”
“Seein’ as I mighta been here once, but I don’t remember if I have because I blocked it, I don’t have it memorized.”
This was true.
Mostly.
“Whatever,” she said but he could hear her smile.
He could also feel her thumb in his belt loop.
Which meant, when they’d moved through the mall and he made his turn, she had to come with him.
“Jo—”
She cut herself off and he knew why.
She couldn’t miss the store they were in.
Since he’d scoped it out, he didn’t waste time and guided her right where they needed to be.
Silently, Carissa followed him.
While Travis babbled and kicked his feet, Joker positioned the stroller sideways against the display case so the kid had a view before he hooked Carrie’s waist and pulled her close.
“Hello,” a salesperson greeted them. “Is there something I can help you with today?”
Since he’d scoped it, Joker pointed immediately to the case and answered, “We wanna see that one.”
He heard Carrie suck in a breath.
“Of course. It’s beautiful. Fabulous choice. One moment,” the salesperson said, keys jingling.
He heard Carrie start breathing heavily as well as felt her body start shaking.
A velvet mat was put out on glass and then the Tiffany engagement ring was set on it.
“There you go,” the salesperson said.
Joker nabbed it, grabbed Carissa’s hand, and slid it on her ring finger.
They’d need another size. It was too big.
But for now, the gesture would do.
He looked into her eyes, which were on the ring, just as a tear escaped one and slid down her cheek.
He felt that.
And he loved how it felt.
“How’s that for a promise ring?” he whispered.
Another tear slid down her cheek as her fingers curled around his hand and her gaze locked with his.
“It’s perfect,” she whispered back.
“Joe joe kah!” Travis shouted.
Carissa’s eyes got huge one beat before she burst out laughing at the same time she burst into tears.
Joker pulled her into his arms, took her laughing, sobbing mouth in a long, wet kiss, and through it, he heard the salesperson murmur, “I love my job.”
* * *
The front door opened and Joker looked that way to see Carissa walking in.
“Yo,” Boz called from beside him at the dining room table.
“Carrie,” Snapper greeted, also at the table.
“Babe,” Roscoe, at his other side, said.
“Hey, Carrie,” Rush, at the foot, called.
Hound grunted.
Joker just kept his eyes on his woman and smiled.
She smiled back, calling, “Hey,” to the men at the table drinking beer and playing poker.
But she came right to him.
Putting her hand to his jaw, she bent in and kissed him lightly before repeating a much softer, “Hey.”
Like always.
Right in his dick.
“Hey, baby, how was girls’ night out?” he asked.
“Good. But… um, can I talk to you a sec?”
He tried to read her face, saw something he couldn’t put a finger on, didn’t like that, so he nodded and didn’t waste time putting his cards facedown on the table.
“Be back,” he told his brothers.
“Time for fresh ones,” Roscoe announced, pushing back in his seat.
Joker got up and Carissa took his hand.
She walked him down the hall, asking, “Are you winning?”
“I haven’t lost the house,” he said by way of answer.
She tossed him a grin as she moved them into their room. “Hound’s kicking your booty again.”
Joker didn’t return the grin, he was still trying to read her, but he did reply, “The man’s a poker savant.”
Her grin turned into a smile and she asked, “Can you close the door?”
Joker closed it then gave her his full attention, begging, “Please tell me that you and your bitches didn’t decide tonight was the night to light my father’s house on fire.”
She burst out laughing.
He watched, hoping that was a no.
She sobered and informed him, “No. And actually, this is a show not a tell.”
Carissa giving him a show.
He thought of Roscoe getting fresh ones.
Then he thought none of his brothers would be too concerned they had to slam them and get the fuck out because he might not tell them he was going to get a show, but they could guess, and they wouldn’t be brothers if they were the kind of men to stand in the way of that for a g
ame of poker.
So he crossed his arms on his chest and ordered, “So… show.”
“To preface this, I’ll say I like my promise ring.”
Joker shook his head but did it grinning.
He knew that. In the week since she’d got it, he’d seen her staring at it. She’d even made a habit of rubbing the diamond against her lower lip more than occasionally.
If he caught that last and was in a position to do so, he put her in a position of using that lip in a different way, among other things.
“And also,” she went on, “this is the culmination of what Elvira calls a ‘wild hair,’ something I’m told happens when cosmo two turns into cosmo three.”
“Butterfly, get on with it.”
She slid her hands down the skirt of her cute dress, her eyes on his but his eyes dropped to her hands.
“Also, it should be said that Tyra’s in the know about practically everything,” she informed him.
Joker didn’t say anything. He was watching her pull up the skirt of her dress.
She shifted to the side, telling him, “Including where the brothers get their tats.”
His chest got tight because he saw panties and under them, at the top right corner of her ass, in from her hip, down from her waist, a bandage.
Carefully, she pulled her panties down over the bandage as he stood immobile and watched.
Still silent and watching him, she peeled the bandage away.
“I got a ring,” she whispered. “This is your promise.”
Without moving a muscle, Joker stood there staring at the gooed-up red flesh in which, smaller but fucking magnificent, was the card he’d designed for his tat guy to ink on his chest.
But it was on his girl’s heart-shaped ass.
“I’m not a tattoo person but I thought… Joker?”
She ended on a call to him because he’d dropped his arms and turned on his boot.
He threw open the door and yelled down the hall, “Party’s over! Get out!”
He heard a “What the fuck?” and a guffaw but that’s all he heard before he slammed the door and turned back.
“Sweetie, that was rude… oh!”
She cried out because he was stalking.
She was backing up.
She had a hand up and was looking at him closely as she moved.
“Does this mean you like it?” she asked.
He didn’t give her an answer verbally.
But a while later, when he was not doing his usual watching her pussy take his dick but instead his eyes were locked to his card on her ass as she took his fucking on her knees, her whimpers muffled by the covers where her face was pressed, he figured she got the message.
* * *
He figured she also got his message when she sat next to him, babbling about wedding plans, co-workers at LeLane’s, her and her girls’ predictions of when Malik would pop the question, as he laid back in the chair, the buzz sounding as his tat guy worked at his chest.
Like the joker card, it was his design, so he could change the deck to whatever the fuck he wanted it to be.
So the card the guy was inking slanted over his heart next to the joker was the queen of hearts.
And butterflies.
* * *
The back door flew open and Carissa flew in carrying the handles of a LeLane’s paper bag in one hand, a massive stack of magazines tucked in her other arm, her purse over her shoulder, and wearing her khaki’s and LeLane’s polo, Converse on her feet.
Joker was at the stove.
Travis was unsteady on his feet as he ran to her, shouting, “Moomah!” then he took a header, landed on his hands and knees, tipped his head back and giggled.
“Googly,” she greeted, dumping bag, magazines, and purse and cutting her eyes to Joker. “Please tell me you’re browning the ground beef.”
“Seein’ as I got a text five minutes ago tellin’ my behind to do that and I’m standin’ at a stove… yeah.”
She smiled at him, bent, scooped up her kid, gave him kisses, tickles, and snuggles, then put him down again and came right to Joker.
Her eyes were shining.
“Did you see it?” she asked.
He nodded. “Tyra bought twice as many as you got over there.” He jerked his head to the counter where she’d dumped her shit.
“Did you read it?” she pushed.
“Uh… yeah,” he answered.
“It… is… amazing!” she cried. “So amazing. So cool. So you! And the brothers. I’m framing it. Every page!” she declared.
“Figure you will, bein’ a goofball,” he muttered, fighting his smile.
“Don’t make me annoyed when I’m this happy.” She jumped suddenly and yelled, “I have to change! Be back! There’s ice cream in that bag, toss it in the freezer, sweetie, will you?”
Then she didn’t wait for him to answer. She pursed her lips and blew him a kiss, which he thought was cute, and he usually loved it when she did that, but not so much right then when she just got home and he would prefer something a fuckuva lot different.
He didn’t get it.
She raced out of the kitchen.
Joker turned down the meat, bent, nabbed Travis, and planted him on his hip.
“Joejoekah, loo lah, kah kah.”
“I hear you,” Joker muttered as he walked to the bag, took the ice cream out (three tubs), and put it in the freezer.
Then he went to the magazine, grabbed the top one off the stack, set it to the side and flipped it open.
He got to the page and whispered, “There it is, boy.”
“Dah, noo, fah, lah,” Travis replied.
“That’s what I think,” Joker said.
He stared down at the picture.
It took up both pages. One of his builds, a bike, purple, fucking brilliant pinstriping, and even he had to admit the framing was inspired.
In big writing at the top it said, Custom Cool and under that, smaller, it said, Denver’s Chaos Motorcycle Club, led by design mastermind Carson “Joker” Steele, takes custom rides to the next stratosphere.
The brothers were gathered around the bike in the garage. All of them. Joker at the front wheel, arms crossed on his chest, Tack next to him, arm slung casually over Joker’s shoulders, his boots crossed at the ankles.
The back wall was behind them, their tool chests and equipment lined up at the bottom against it, a massive Chaos flag stretched across the wall above.
Boz was smiling like a lunatic, but the rest of his brothers were staring at the camera natural, looking badass.
It was a fucking great picture.
He flipped the page to a better one.
Top right corner, a side shot of Joker in Carissa’s arms, his hands deep in her back pockets, their attention focused on nothing but each other.
They were smiling.
Under it, it said, You can’t have bikers without biker babes. Steele with his fiancée, Carissa.
“Moomah,” Travis mumbled and Joker looked to the kid to see his eyes on the magazine, his fingers twiddling his lip.
“Yeah, son, that’s your momma.”
Travis looked to him. “Moomah.”
“Yeah, boy.”
Travis took his fingers from his lip and curled them around Joker’s. “Joejoekah.”
“Yeah,” Joker whispered. “I’m your Joker.”
The boy wobbled a second then dropped forward and landed a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss on his hand and Joker’s mouth.
He wobbled back.
“Love you too, kid,” Joker whispered.
Travis giggled.
Then he twisted and reached to the floor.
Like he would do if he could do it for as long as he could do it, Joker gave Travis what he wanted and put his ass on the floor.
* * *
“This shit fuckin’ rocks,” Boz declared, scooping up his third helping of Carissa’s chili and dumping it on a bed of chili cheese Fritos.
Watching his brother do t
hat, Joker thought it was good his woman had made a vat.
He went to the fridge, nabbed a couple of cold ones, popped the tops, and walked them out, going straight to Linus, who, in the crush of people, was standing by the window in the dining area, Candy perched on his hip.
Joker handed a beer to his friend and got a mumbled, “Thanks, Car.”
“No probs,” he replied, turning to the room where all his brothers, their bitches, and Chaos friends, including Elvira and Malik, Lawson and his family, Lucas and his family, Delgado and his family, and both Nightingale brothers and their families, with the additions of Linus’s family, Mrs. Heely, and Keith, Megan, and Dora Robinson, were shoved in his and Carissa’s house.
Luckily, some of them were shooting the shit in the kitchen and others were out in the cold on the back deck, or there wouldn’t be enough room.
Even if there wasn’t room, the shit-ton of kids currently in their pad found ways to run around, which they were doing.
Joker felt something light touch his shoulder.
He turned and saw Candy doing a lean his way.
He looked to Linus as he took her weight, heavier than he was used to, and settled her on his side.
She wrapped her arm around his neck and rested her head on his shoulder.
“My baby’s got a crush,” Linus said under his breath.
Joker turned his head and grinned at him.
“Excellent spread in that magazine, Car,” Linus said louder. “Kamryn bought five of ’em. She wants you to get your brothers to sign them.”
Hearing this, Joker wondered if there was a copy left in Denver, considering any women remotely associated with Chaos were hoarding them. Stacy had bought ten (and made the brothers sign them). Elvira had bought twenty (and bossed the brothers into signing them).
“Proud,” Linus whispered.
Joker lifted his beer and took a swallow, but didn’t look at him.
“All I’m gonna say but that runs deep, Car,” Linus kept at it. “And not just because you’re famous.”
With all he was feeling, the only thing Joker had to give he gave.
He nodded.
Linus, as always, took what he had to give happily and clapped him on the back.
Joker felt that light in his chest as he felt something else.
His eyes moved to the couch and he saw his girl sitting close to Mrs. Heely, Indy Nightingale, and Gwen Delgado, all of them gabbing like they weren’t being crawled on by kids or casually dodging toys flying.