TEDDY
I don’t do panic.
I plan, I execute, I always handle my business. But this?
This was damn close.
I moved through the clubhouse like a man on a mission—barking orders, redirecting bodies, making calls. Tables dragged out back, grill fired up, coolers filled. Someone fetched extra chairs, and someone else grabbed food. In minutes, the place shifted from its usual rough-edged calm to alive with teasing smirks.
Controlled chaos, but I was anxious, an emotion the brothers rarely saw in me.
“Why the hell are we throwing a party on a few hours' notice?” Ratchet called as he hauled a stack of folding tables past me.
“Because I said so,” I shot back, not slowing.
He snorted. “That ain’t an answer.”
“It is today,” I grunted as I arranged the chairs.
He grinned like the menace he was.
