DOTTIE

“How are we supposed to do any shopping for gifts?” I ask the ladies as we watch the kids play a game of tag with the men. “There are stores here, but they are only inventoried with food and other necessities.”

“We could always have Pops get his staff to go for us,” Charlee suggests.

“But doesn’t that defeat the purpose?” Cameron inquires. “If he’s buying children’s toys and clothes after losing his entire family, that’d be suspicious.”

“Not if he sneaks it in while shopping for the Salvation Army,” Charlee states. “Every year he buys clothing, toys, food, bedding, and other household shit that he donates to those less fortunate than him. It was something Ma started doing after they established the DreamCatcher MC and it’s become a tradition, one he told me he plans on keeping up with.”

“That’s a great tradition,” I compliment. “So many of my students went without and they’d be so damn sad after they came back to school and their classmates would brag about what Santa brought them. More than once I had a student ask me if Santa didn’t bring them anything because they were bad. It broke my damn heart.”

“Sounds like we’re going to have another local project then for next year, Dot,” Charlee announces. “Because every child deserves to have something under the tree from Santa.”

“This year, I won’t be there for them,” I sigh. “I started purchasing things age appropriate for each grade level and would keep it in my car pre-wrapped. Anytime a student mentioned that they didn’t get anything under the tree, I’d rush out to my car, dig through their gender section, and put their name on the tag. I lied, telling them Santa accidentally dropped off their present at my house since he knew I was their teacher. I’d tell them he couldn’t get into their house and asked me to deliver their stuff to them.”

“Well, we’re going to have you work with the school counselor or counselors to get us the names of the families who are down on their luck. Once we know how many kids we’re dealing with, we’ll know how to proceed. We may need to do a couple of charity toy runs, but I’m sure if they aren’t getting stuff from Santa, they’re probably underdressed for winter weather too. Can you suggest a coat drive or something?” Charlee asks.

“I love that idea,” I admit. “Remind me and when I’ve got a pad of paper and pen nearby, I’ll jot it down, so I don’t forget.”

“Got you covered,” Star cries out, digging through her diaper bag and coming up with the two items I was looking for. She tosses them to me, and I start outlining some ideas to help my school’s students next year.

“Thanks. You know, I wonder if there should be something year-round,” I muse, tapping the pen to my lips. “Our school is somewhat low-income, but I don’t know if that’s because of the quality of jobs around, or due to the employees’ lack of higher education.”

“Okay, so I’ll have Gunner reach out to Pops and tell him we need to talk about Christmas presents. I mean, we’re all adults so it’s not like we can’t wait for anything big, but maybe some new books or educational shit, that kind of thing would be cool. However, the kids who know about Santa won’t understand if he doesn’t show up,” Charlee states.

“See if Pops can convince your Uncle Luca to dress up as ol’ Saint Nicholas,” I propose. It’s the only solution I can come up with and he may not be the most convincing Santa on the planet, but they're young enough that they shouldn’t know the difference.

“That’s actually not a bad idea,” Charlee admits. “I’ll run the idea past him when we get him here next.”

“My list won’t be a big one,” I state. “I have no idea what I could get for Bull. Any suggestions?”

“He’s a guy. A biker at that. A new wallet with a chain so it doesn’t fall out of his pocket while he’s riding. A new bandana to wrap around his head. A new pair of riding boots, a leather jacket because his is as old as he is,” Stella giggles.

“Wait, while we’re on the topic, how old is Bull, Dot?” Charlee asks. “We’ve tried to get him to tell us on several occasions. He’s never told the guys and every time we ask, he clamps his lips and mirth dances in his eyes. What is he, thirty-four, thirty-five?”

Not wanting to betray my man, but finding this comical, I pop up my thumbs and raise them into the air. “Higher,” I announce.

“Oooh, my turn,” Star pipes in, “I’m good at guessing someone’s age. I say he’s forty-two. He can’t be any older than that because that man is hawt as fuck and has zero wrinkles from all the time he’s spent in the elements.”

Again, I raise my thumbs in the air.

“I call bullshit,” Stella snorts. “Ain’t no way in hell he’s older than that.”

I clamp my lips tighter, refusing to say a word aloud.

“Forty-five?” Cameron attempts to get the right age.

Shrugging, I let my silence do the talking. There’s a reason why my man hasn’t divulged his age and since he’s in better shape than a lot of men half his age, I’m not giving it up.

“Bull!” Charlee and Cameron shout out his name simultaneously. My man drops the conversation he was in the midst of with Kruger and struts our way.

“Ladies. What can I do for y’all?”

“It’s time to confess,” Charlee says adamantly. “How old are you?”

Bull gets a wounded look on his face and backs up a step. “How old do you think I am?” he poses.

“Forty?” Cameron guesses, even though I’ve already told them he’s older than that.

“Nope,” Bull argues.

“Older or younger?” Star quizzes.

“I’m not telling you that,” Bull taunts them.

“Older,” I whisper, which has several of them huffing and puffing, unwilling to believe what I’m telling them is the god’s honest truth.

“Woman! I’m gonna tan your hide. This is a well-guarded secret, don’t betray your man.” With a wink, he bends down and pecks the side of my face with his lips. “Gotta have something to hold over their heads.”

“You’re bad, Bullheaded.” I can’t help the giggle that escapes when he mock-growls at me. Clutching at my chest, I wink and tell him, “It doesn’t matter to me because you’re still the hottest man I’ve ever known.”

“Just for that, I’m gonna eat my dessert, i.e., you, for hours tonight.” His eyes angle down to the juncture of my thighs which has me squeezing my legs together tighter in an attempt to ease the ache that’s suddenly awakened.

The shiver that courses through my body has me wanting to abandon this little game the girls have going on so we can skip to the good stuff. Unfortunately, we already catch a lot of shit when we take off to our slice of paradise to enjoy one another. It’s the benefit of not having kids and trust me, we’re taking full advantage of that fact.

“So, you’re not gonna tell us?” Charlee asks, standing with her hands braced on her hips and a glare that would lay a lesser man in his grave.

“Nope,” Bull retorts. “It’s not necessary for anyone but my doctor and my woman to know since it doesn’t impact what I do for the club. Suffice it to say, if Gun didn’t think I was capable, I wouldn't still be part of the club. Now, since the guys are hovering around, Gunner, the ladies need to talk to your pops about Christmas and shopping. You know, money shit.” With nothing else said, Bull turns and walks back over to his previous spot and picks up their conversation as if there hadn’t been any interruptions. He does all of this without missing a beat.

He’s good. I can tell he has experience with saying what needs to be said then dismissing it as if he didn’t leave an oozing gap of frustration behind him.

I hide the mirthful smirk behind my hand that’s broadcast across my face. I swallow the snicker that tries to break free, unwilling to let the ladies see how amusing it is to me that they’ve made a game out of guessing my man’s age.

And yet, nobody’s gotten close.

I’m not sure why they assume I’d lie about something like this, but it’s fun watching them hypothesize and debate his age.