They had made quite a spread― one of them had been trained as a chef― and Faith was overwhelmed by their kindness and attention. She had expected them to be rough and crude and loud, but though they did not have the polish of the elite, they were sensitive and funny and set her at ease at once. The second-in-command to her dad in the club, Bob Lafferty, got the guys to clear the table and clean up after dinner. Then, he shooed them out with a promise to return in the morning to make her breakfast before they got down to business. She watched them all mount their bikes and ride off, except for Jack and Bob, who said he lived in the cottage. Bob bid them both good night, gave Jack a long, considering stare, and then walked off to his place. “They seem to be nice men,” she murmured, as the lights went on in the cottage, and she and Jack walked back inside. “Did you expect something different?” “Well, biker gangs do have a reputation, don’t they?”
