I glanced over my shoulder to see the nervous woman had shrunk into herself, making herself smaller as she hurriedly did the sign of the cross.

We’d gutted, painted, and modernized it with all Glitch’s smart home shit. But thanks to the massive stained glass windows and the pews that lined the bar, there was no mistaking what the Court of Mayhem clubhouse had once been.

“Not a church anymore,” I told her, making her jump.

“The hell happened?” Judge bit out, though he kept his volume down. Since he didn’t have his wife planted on his lap, it was a safe bet she was asleep in their room.

“Glitch here?” I asked.

“Helping with the drop then he’ll be back.”

“Get Ria here, too. I need fuckin’ coffee like I need to get my—” Thank Christ my brain caught up before I started mouthing off about getting my dick wet in front of the traumatized housekeeper.

Didn’t need to add to the fear in her eyes.

Sure as shit didn’t need her running off—especially since nothing was around the clubhouse for miles. I wouldn’t get any damn sleep if I had to trek through the woods, hunting her down before something else got her.

After dropping my bag on the couch, I trudged through the clubhouse into Swedes’s pristine kitchen. It smelled like syrup and vanilla and some other shit that made my stomach rumble, which meant he’d been there prepping breakfast foods.

We’re his brothers but he spoils her. That bastard.

Swedes—short for Swedish, as in the Muppet chef—used to work in the finest kitchens. He left that life behind and only cooks for family and our sorry asses. Couldn’t say I minded. Our monthly pre-meeting dinner was always a damn feast. And he’d never been shy about stocking the fridge and freezer when the desire hit him.

But ever since O had moved in with Judge, the kitchen had been consistently stocked to the brim with her favorites.

I liked Ophelia.

Hell, I loved her like a sister. She gave Judge something to obsess over other than the club so he wasn’t on our backs all the damn time.

And, fine, she made him happy and shit.

But that didn’t mean I wasn’t resentful Swedes spoiled her. All she’d had to do was compliment his cooking, and he was wrapped around her finger.

I was gonna be pissed if he stopped stocking the freezer when her and Judge’s new house was built.

If they moved out.

As soon as the clubhouse was renovated, Judge had claimed one of the rooms meant for brothers to crash in—or do whatever else in. He’d never left. The clubhouse was his home.

Until Ophelia became his home.

Shockingly, it wasn’t him I thought would struggle to leave.

It was O.