Making the Cut (Son's of Templar MC)(76)

Cade seemed hypnotized for a second then he shook his head, he didn't  move his hand from my belly but he put the other under my legs and  carried me to the table.

"I don't want you cutting yourself." He explained, a twinkle in his eye,  I knew he was remembering back to a time not so different than this,  apart from the fact I was carrying his spawn now. Our moment was broken  when Dad and Amy rushed over.

"Supes kicking let me feel!" Amy demanded placing her hand beside Cade's.

"Gotta know if my grandkid's gonna be an All Black." Dad put his hand there too.

Three heads looked up at me smirking before they released their hands,  well actually two did. One very masculine, tattooed hand stayed sprawled  over my swollen belly. I covered it with my own, looking into the grey  eyes of my man, his expression sending a warm feeling to my toes. We  stayed like that, staring at each other silently enforcing a bond that  would keep us connected forever. The little person inside me that we  both created out of love, the baby that will forever be ours and would  be loved by countless people. Cade framed my face and pressed a firm but  chaste kiss on my lips.

My father, bless him, broke the moment. "What are you two lovebirds up  to today?" He asked his tone light, and happy. Not that fake  cheerfulness that he had ben putting on for two months, protecting his  girls from the depths of his grief, being strong for us. No, this was  genuine, the warm feeling continued to sneak its way into my heart, then  I did something I hadn't genuinely done for two months. I smiled. "Well  father, I thought I could show Cade around town, then go for a drive up  to Malcom's peak." I informed him, turning to Cade I continued. "Let's  see how you handle New Zealand life my hunky American."



"Nice meeting you Cade, you're not a bad bloke … for a Yank. You take care  of this girl." Gray barked at Cade gruffly, giving him a firm  handshake. His eyes softened towards me and then to my belly.

"This baby comes home with an accent, we got problems." He roughly  kissed my head then sauntered off to his table. I giggled and looked  over to Cade, who just shook his head and took a pull of his beer.

It had been an eventful day, showing Cade ‘around town' didn't take long  considering our town consisted of one main street, a handful of shops  and three cafes. That didn't mean we weren't busy. We stopped off for a  coffee, and as was per usual in a small town such as ours, we bumped  into a thousand people I knew. This normally didn't bother me too much,  considering I didn't make it home often and I genuinely liked most of  the people. But this was one of the first times I had been out and about  since the funeral. I hated the sympathetic glances, the hand squeezing,  the ‘how are you holding ups?' everyone meant well but it was  suffocating. Thankfully I had a hunky biker who distracted most of the  well meaning locals away from their pity party and into a full scale  interrogation. With some overly friendly arm touches and eye fucking  from the younger, female, generation. I had narrowed my eyes at this and  stuck my belly out rubbing it in front of them, communicating that I  was pregnant with his child. Some people. Thankfully we escaped  unscathed and spent the rest of the day driving around the countryside,  even Cade's usual hard exterior cracked taking in the beauty of home. I  could tell he liked ‘Malcolm's Point' considering he stood taking in the  view of our little valley silently for a good five minutes before  jumping me and making love to me on the bonnet of my Dad's truck. It was  amazing. Apart from the fact I was slightly worried my fat pregnant ass  would make a huge dint that would be hard to explain.

After those activities I figured Cade would be thirsty so I took him to  our local pub. On arrival we were swamped down with greetings, hugs (for  me), firm handshakes and back slaps (for Cade). The reception was  slightly different from that of the café, as the patrons here tended to  be old, gruff, farmers and laborers who didn't drool all over my drool  worthy man and hand out condolences. Instead they gave Cade wary looks,  glancing at his attire and tattoos' with speculation, and more than a  little protectiveness. A lot of these men knew and respected not only my  father but also my … Ian. Which meant they took it upon themselves to be  secondary protectors of my honor. Sweet but also annoying. Especially  when your 15 and hanging out at the only 24 hour fast food joint at 3 in  the morning, more than a little tipsy, and one of the men happen upon  you then take it upon themselves to drag you home.                       
       
           



       

But when I was 25, knocked up, and devastated from loss I found it  comforting. I was worried for a split second they would take him outside  and try and rough him up a little, considering they all knew he had  been MIA for two months, no matter it was not his fault. But thankfully  they hadn't. Another thing that I was thankful for was the fact they  didn't treat me like some victim of loss that needed to be handled like  glass. They shot they shit, some giving Cade withering looks, most  giving him shit (that he took remarkably well), and then they raised a  glass, "To the best brother son, and rugby Forward we knew." I choked up  a bit on that one, but raised my lemonade and bit back the tears.



"Anyone else going to approach the table trying to kill me with a scowl  then try and crush me bones with a handshake?" Cade asked evenly.

"Oh probably, it's not even happy hour yet." I told him sweetly.

He smirked, rubbing his hand on my thigh. "I like this for you baby.  That you got so many people who obviously care about you, respect you,  got your back. It's special, this whole damn place is spectacular."

I scrutinized the pub with fake interest, taking in the dated stools and  tables, the slightly stained carpet and the faded yellow paint.

"Well spectacular isn't the word I'd use for this particular establishment, I'm glad you like it all the same."

Cade grinned outright, and what a sight to behold that was. "Fuck I've  missed your smart mouth." His hand moved from my thigh to brush my belly  lightly.

"This town, this country. It's freaking amazing babe, I see how you love  it so much." He regarded like there was something else moving in his  mind.

I didn't have time to ask him what because hurricane Amy strolled  through the door. I swear conversation stopped and every head turned to  look at my best friend. Granted, in a small town pub in New Zealand,  strangers stuck out like a sore thumb. But this way something else, a  drop dead gorgeous girl like Amy strolling into this place was like a  fish jumping out of water and walking around on two legs. It also didn't  help she was dressed like she was about to head off to a five star  dinner, not indulge in some hearty, honest, pub food.

Her long red hair tumbled around her shoulders, a mass of curls. She had  on a grey, long sleeved knit dress that went down to her ankles and had  huge slits up both sides, it was skintight, not leaving much to the  imagination. She wore modest (for her) heeled ankle boots and a camel  colored draped leather jacket. Definitely not the jeans and thermals  most other women in here were wearing. Well with the exception of me, I  was wearing leather leggings, a cashmere charcoal sweater, and knee high  boots. Everyone around here had accepted my inability to wear the local  uniform years ago, but they hadn't seen the likes of Amy. She was  joined by my parents, who spotted us and waved. My father went off to  the bar no doubt to get drinks, but was deep in back slaps and man hugs  before getting anywhere near. Mum spotted a couple of friends and waved  Amy on.

"Sup skank, biker dude, Supe." Amy patted my tummy, sitting herself beside me.

"Hey whore." I replied, Cade did a chin lift, grinning.

"This your local watering hole before you starting sipping cosmos in the  land of velvet ropes?" Amy asked, taking in our surroundings, winking  at some of the men still staring.

I snorted. "You could say that, though I could count the times I've  gotten drunk here on one hand, I was usually out looking for trouble,  not staying in the one place I couldn't find it. Not with all these guys  around anyway." I smirked. "Although, there was one night I did beat  them all in a skulling competition." I spoke a little louder, just so my  neighbors could hear.

"You hustled us girl, which means you didn't win anything, you forfeit  on account of deceit." Bluey, one of the losers of that night exclaimed  passionately.

"We agreed we do not speak of that night." Louie scowled at me before turning to contemplate his beer.

"I'll take you on right now, rematch little girl." Seventy five year old  Elliot declared, standing from his stool raising his beer.