Page 19 of Ironside
Lila. Jenny would definitely tell Lila.
As the founder’s daughter—and our new President’s Old Lady—Lila had a sixth sense when it came to sniffing out drama in the club. And Jenny adored her, taking Lila under her wing like a big sister.
Yep. Jenny would tell Lila in a heartbeat.
And if Lila knew, Shea would know instantly. Lila and Shea had been best friends since childhood. They told each other everything.
Fuck. This was quickly devolving into a domino chain, toppling out of control.
I rummaged around in the cabinets until I found a bottle of whiskey and poured a generous amount into my coffee. It was only a matter of time before the cat was out of the bag.
If I thought the teasing from my club was insufferable now, it was about to get much worse when they heard I had a lady in my life.
A lady I could see myself marrying one day. If I didn’t screw it up.
Chapter six
Lena
I felt like I was walking on a cloud all day, humming to myself, grinning so wide that my cheeks ached. Ironside had called me this morning, letting me know that he intended to drop by The Bellflower on my lunch hour to bring me food, if I didn’t have any other plans.
Ever since then, I’d been giddy with anticipation.
At noon, when I flipped the sign on the door to Closed for Lunch, Ironside met me there. He looped an arm around my waist, greeting me with a kiss that made my toes curl. I draped my arms around his neck, smiling against his lips with a purr of contentment.
“Fuck, I missed you,” he breathed, pressing his forehead to mine.
“We saw each other less than forty-eight hours ago,” I pointed out with amusement, but it wasn’t a complaint.
The fact that Ironside was clearly interested in me—and eager to see me again—was a refreshing change. And I intended to soak up every second of it.
“Well, that’s still too long in my opinion.” Ironside held up a small cooler. “Hungry?”
“Starving. What’s on the menu?”
“It’s a surprise. I did a little cooking myself.”
I gave a hum of surprise.
“You cooked for me?”
He shrugged and took my hand, kissing my knuckles.
“I like to cook for other people. It helps to clear my head, makes me feel useful. Cooking for myself gets boring when you’re a bachelor. And…maybe I wanted to impress you.”
“Oh, you certainly did that already.”
I smoothed my palm down his chest appreciatively. He wore his leather jacket this time, and I loved the scent of it, and the way it looked so good on him.
“Where can we set up?” he asked, offering his arm to me.
I slipped my hand through his elbow, pleased at his gentlemanly manners. For an outlaw biker, he certainly knew how to treat me like a lady.
“In the show room.” I gestured to the door leading to the back of the shop. “I do all my flower arranging and photoshoots there, for social media, my website, things like that. There’s a big table we can use with plenty of space to spread out.”
“Sounds perfect. Lead the way, petal.”
Making our way through the shop, I took Ironside into the show room. Buckets of flowers filled every shelf and clustered on the floor, waiting to be arranged. The air was thick with a heady mixture of perfumes—roses, lavender, lilacs, peonies, honeysuckle, jasmine. A rack hung on one wall, arrayed with spools of florist wire, ribbons, shears, gloves, and other various tools. The high ceiling and large windows created a cathedral-like atmosphere, holy and reverent and awe-inspiring. A place where my raw creativity could spread its wings and soar.
