“I think so,” Mayra answered.
She was really going to have to get better at acting like we were married. She was failing miserably at it right now. “We’re living in the log cabin on Mites Road. Renting it from a friend for a bit ‘til we figure out things.”
“That place is gorgeous. Most of the year, it sits there empty, which is such a shame so to have you two living there warms my heart.” The clerk scanned the rest of our items then started bagging them up.
Wrecker had us living in Utah in a small town called Pines Peak. The population was a blustering seven hundred and nine, and from the looks of the main street, it had a grocery store, bank, three bars, and a gas station. It was going to be the perfect place to lay low ‘til things with the Banachi’s blew over. I just hoped Mayra didn’t get a wild hair about her again and try to take off.
“There’s a potluck every third Wednesday of the month if you guys want to stop in to meet everyone. I always bring my famous white bean and chicken chili, but then Agnes brings her chili mac because she thinks chili should be red and not white. I personally think she needs to stop discriminating against my chili and put a spoonful in her mouth. She’ll change her tune lickety split about red being better than white. I’m Elle, by the way.”
Mayra blinked slowly and glanced at me. Elle had thought Mayra had said a lot before, but Elle had just summed up what I presumed was a much longer story into three of four sentences. “We’ll have to see what we are up to.”
Elle finished bagging the groceries and handed them to Mayra. “Well, we’re all pretty friendly, and we’d love to have you there. Just as long as you don’t bring chili.” She threw a wink at Mayra and laughed. “Total is one fifty-nine seventy-two.”
I pulled two one hundred dollar bills out of my wallet and handed them to her. “Wouldn’t even think of doing that. I’m a fan of white chili myself.”
“I know you two are probably getting acquainted since you just got married, but hopefully you can spare a little time to meet everyone.” She handed me my change and smiled at Mayra. “You guys make a real cute couple.”
Mayra looked up at me. “He does have that Jax Teller look to him, though I look nothing like Tara. I’m more of a Lucille Ball.”
Elle’s mouth dropped open. “Oh, my lord, you know the Sons of Anarchy?” she gasped.
Mayra laughed and high-fived her. “Girl, I have spent many a night with Jax and Opie.”
Elle fanning her face and smiled at me. “You really do look like Jax. I thought it right away when you walked in, but I didn’t want to say anything.”
Mayra moved closer to me. “You should see some of his friends, Elle. They all look like they could be in some motorcycle club.”
Elle clutched her hand to her chest. “Heavens above. If only that were true.”
Mayra moved to push the cart. “I know, right. A girl can daydream about it though, right?”
I put my hand on Mayra’s back and urged her to the exit. “We need to get on home for dinner. We’ll make sure to try to make it to the potluck.”
“It’s next Wednesday,” Elle called before the automatic door slid shut behind up.
Mayra slowly pushed the cart toward the truck, and I followed close behind her. I put my hands on the handle of the cart and caged her in while we walked. “Jax Teller? Really, M?” I whispered in her ear.
“You do look like him,” she insisted.
I had heard it a couple of times before, but I never really took it to heart. “Except I’m not some imaginary character in a TV show.”
She turned her head. “Nope, you’re the real deal.”
I shook my head. “Just don’t go around town telling people I look like a biker.”
“But you do look like a biker, Boink. I don’t need to tell people; they can see it.”
We stopped next to the truck, and I opened the hatch. “It’s Melvin, Bertha. Melvin doesn’t belong to a motorcycle club or look like Jax Teller.”
She grabbed a couple of bags from the cart and put them in the truck. “You really think people are going to somehow find out who you really are?”
I grabbed the rest of the bags and set them in the truck. “I think this is a small enough town that they really don’t have much going on so snooping where their noses don’t belong seems likely.”
Mayra put her hands on her hips and looked up at me. “I think you watched Andy Griffith too much growing up.”
“I think I’m just cautious, like you should be.”
She rolled her eyes and limped around me.
“Hey, you okay?”
I had just been walking behind her, and she hadn’t been limping. She opened the passenger door and looked over at me. “My pain pills are wearing off.”
It was going on nine, which meant it had been over four hours since she last took her pills. “You okay to sit or do you want to lay down?” It was only a fifteen-minute drive back to the cabin, but if she was in pain just walking, I could only imagine how much it was going to hurt to sit on her butt.
Her face was pale, and her eyes were dull. “I’ve got my inflatable tube thingy. Get me home, Melvin, so I can take my pills and pass out for a bit.”
I helped her into the truck, made sure she was as comfortable as she could be, then headed back to the cabin. “I’ll make dinner while you rest.”
Her head rolled on the headrest of the seat and looked at me. “Frozen pizza?”
I shook my head. “I’ll try to make something better than that.”
She laughed and closed her eyes. “Do you even know how to cook?”
Not exactly, but she didn’t need to know that. “You rest, and you’ll find out when you wake up.”
Dinner was going to be one huge Hail Mary to the dinner gods.
*
Chapter Ten
Mayra
“Mayra!”
I burrowed under the warmth of the blanket and sighed. Waking up was not something I wanted to do.
“Mayra!”
Ugh. Boink was not getting the hint. “No,” I moaned. I was lying on my stomach with the blanket wrapped around me, and my face was buried in the mattress. I doubted he even heard me.
“M-baby, I got dinner ready.”
My stomach growled at the mention of food. I lifted my head and was surprised by the smell. “It doesn’t smell like fire,” I mumbled.
“Fire?”
I jumped, surprised, and instantly regretted moving so quickly. “Ugh, don’t you know not to surprise a woman with a broken butt?”
“Why would it smell like fire?” Boink asked.
I turned my head and saw him standing in the doorway of the bedroom. “Because you cooked?”
“I cooked tacos. Shit is easy to make.”
It was, but I didn’t know if he even knew how to turn on the stove, let alone make actual food on it. I rolled onto my side and looked over at him. “Is it edible?”
“Get your ass up and come find out.” He walked out of the room and disappeared.
I dropped my head to my pillow and sighed. The least he could have done after waking me up was to help get me out of bed. Not moving for a bit made me even more sore, and everything stiffened up. I managed to scoot to the edge of the bed and swung my feet onto the floor.
“This must be like what it feels to get old,” I grumbled. I managed to get out of bed and make my way to the bathroom where I promptly shrieked.
My hair I had neatly piled on top of my head was now a haphazard spout coming out of the side of my head and my face had a crease running from forehead to chin from the sheet. I was a hot mess.
“M, it’s getting cold,” Boink hollered.
I tugged the tie from my hair, combed my fingers through the strands, and piled it up again on the top of my head. I was going to have to unpack my bag tonight to get my brush and toothbrush out.
I padded down the hallway slowly with my inflatable butt tube tucked under my arm. The delicious smell of dinner strengthened as I
walked into the kitchen. Boink was standing in front of the stove stirring a pot, and there were all of the fixings for tacos laid out on the table. “Holy hell. You actually did cook.”
He grabbed the pot off the stove and set it on the table on top of a hot pad. “You gotta stop doubting me, M-baby.”
“You’re a guy in an MC with the name Boink. I don’t think most people would think that you were able to use a microwave, let alone cook a full-blown meal.”
He reached for a paper plate and handed it to me. “Fill a plate.”
I grabbed two hard shells and dropped cheese into the bottom of them. “You gotta put the cheese on the bottom so the meat gets it all melty and gooey by the time you go to take a bite.”
“No, no, no,” Boink tsked. “The cheese goes on top. Putting it on the bottom is ridiculous.”
“Don’t knock it until you try it,” I mumbled.
I filled the two tacos on my plate and dropped my butt tube onto the couch.
“Drink?” Boink called.
I gingerly sat down on the tube and managed to somewhat tuck my legs under me. “Uh, do I get something stronger than water?”
“You take your pills?”
He damn well knew that as soon as we had gotten home from the grocery store, I had downed two of my pills. “Just bring me water,” I muttered.
Boink walked into the living room and plunked a wine cooler in front of me. “You get one, so savor it.”
“I promise not to get crazy and hang from the chandelier.”
He laughed and shook his head. “That would be pretty good seeing as we don’t have a chandelier.”
I pointed up. “Yeah we do.”
Boink tilted his head back and whistled. “Well, I’ll be damn. That is a chandelier made out of fucking moose horns.”
“Horns?” I laughed. “Pretty sure they are called antlers, Boink.”
“Right, that’s what I meant.” He bit off a huge bite of his taco and chewed slowly. “Why ar u lookin’ ate meh?”
“Did you just speak pirate?” I asked.
His mouth was full, and he thankfully finished chewing before he tried talking again. “Why are you watching me? You should be eating this delicious meal I just made for you.”
“You’re distracting.”
“Eat, woman,” he ordered. He picked up the remote and turned on the TV. “What are you in the mood to watch?”
“Uh, something good?” Not very specific, but it was a good place to start. “Maybe a TV show with lots of seasons seeing as we could be stuck here for a while.”
“I’m not watching Sons of Anarchy,” he declared.
“Oh, come on. I was just going to say that we need to re-watch it. Elle got me hankering to watch it.”
He shook his head. “That would mean I would need to watch it a first time.”
My jaw dropped. “You have never seen Sons of Anarchy?” We were going to rectify this shit right now. I grabbed the remote from his hand and pointed it at the TV. I pressed the Netflix button and quickly typed “sons” into the search bar.
“Come on, Mayra. I really don’t want to watch this.”
I didn’t care what he wanted. “Just hush, Boinky. I’m going to educate you in the way of the Sons of Anarchy.” I hit play on the first episode of the first season and settled back into the couch.
“Your butt good?” he asked.
I nodded. “As good as it can be. The pills are kicking ass right now. I really need to not get behind on taking my pills. It’s hell getting caught back up.” I took a bite of my taco and moaned. “Holy hell.”
“Is that a good holy hell?” he asked.
I took another bite and nodded my head. “Oh yeah.”
“Does that mean I have to make dinner every night?”
“Uh, no. As much as I like your tacos, I don’t want to eat them every night.” The opening scene started playing, and I shushed Boink. “Now pay attention and try to keep up.”
He snorted and leaned forward to grab his beer. “You have no idea how ridiculous it is that you’re making me watch this.”
He may say it was ridiculous now, but I knew it was only a matter of about three episodes before he would be hooked.
*
Boink
“Boink.”
I swatted my hand at the annoying tickle at my neck and slid down ‘til I was laying down with my head on the arm rest of the couch.
“Boink.”
Of course, it was Mayra. She was probably thinking she was paying me back for waking her up earlier to eat dinner. “What?” I croaked.
“How are you asleep?”
I had barely slept four hours when we were at the hotel and now my ass was tired. It was almost eleven at night, and we had been driving for two days straight. That was how I was able to sleep. “You took a nap earlier while I cooked you dinner.”
“I mean, I don’t know how you are sleeping while I have Sons on.”
“It’s real easy. I close my eyes and drown out the TV with my thoughts of throwing it through the window?”
She gasped and plastered her body to my side and the couch. “You don’t like it?”
It wasn’t that I didn’t like it, it just didn’t hold my attention. When you actually lived the life that they were portraying on TV, it really wasn’t interesting. “It’s fine, M-baby.”
“But you’re sleeping,” she pointed out.
“I’m tired.”
“You should have taken a nap when I did.”
“Then we never would have eaten,” I pointed out.
“So, what am I supposed to do while you sleep?” she asked.
I wrapped my arm around her waist and pulled her into my arms. “Sleep.” I buried my face in her hair and inhaled deep. She smelt like apples and sunshine.
“But I’m not tired,” she protested.
“Then watch TV.”
“All I can see right now is your chest.”
I wrapped both of my arms around her, lifted her up while I scooted to put my back to the couch. She was still in my arms, but her back was now to my front, and she was lying on the edge of the couch. “Now watch TV and let me sleep.”
“Um, maybe I can go sit at the end of the couch like I was.”
I settled into the couch with my arm draped over her. “No.”
“Why not?”
“M-baby. I’m tired as hell and just want to sleep. Can’t do that with you talking or sitting at the end of the couch.”
“Your reasoning makes no sense to me.”
It did make sense. I was supposed to be keeping Mayra safe, so if I kept her in arm’s reach, I knew she was safe. “I’ll explain it later,” I mumbled.
She finally relaxed into me, and I felt all of the resistance leave her body. “Still doesn’t make sense,” she grumbled. So maybe not all of her resistance left, but she wasn’t physically trying to get out of my arms.
I grabbed the blanket that was draped across the back of the couch and pulled it over us. “You watch your bikers, and I’m gonna sleep.”
“I’m only agreeing with you because you’re really tired.”
As long as she let me sleep and didn’t move from my arms, I was happy.
Tomorrow, I needed to check in with Clash to see if anything was happening with the Banachi’s, then I was going to figure out how to keep Mayra occupied while we were here.
Now, I slept. Tomorrow, I figured everything else out.
*
Chapter Eleven
Mayra
Bacon was the king of meat.
I laid four pieces on the griddle and basked in the delicious aroma and sizzle.
I didn’t know how Boink was still sleeping with the smell of bacon wafting through the cabin.
“Gotta say, M-baby. Waking up to the smell of bacon and you standing at the stove is a sight to see.”
I guess he wasn’t able to sleep through the smell of cooking bacon. “I made a pot of coffee if you wanna pour yourself a cup.” I glance
d over my shoulder and saw that he was already standing in front of the coffee pot that was on the kitchen island.
“Way ahead of you,” he mumbled.
I turned back to the stove and flipped over the bacon. “I was gonna make eggs, too. You care what kind?” As long as he didn’t say poached, I could make whatever. I had tried one time to poach eggs and it had turned into egg soup. The art of poaching eggs had escaped me.
“Scrambled.”
“Thank God,” I laughed. “For a second, I thought you were going to say you wanted eggs benedict.”
I grabbed the eggs out of the fridge and pulled a large bowl from the cabinet.
The cabin Wrecker had sent us to was more like a resort and a vacation than banishing us. While Boink and I had slept on the couch last night, there was one large bedroom on the main floor, a huge kitchen that opened to a monstrous living room and bathroom right off the kitchen. The second level was an open loft with the master bedroom and another bathroom.
Before I had started breakfast, I had taken a tour of the cabin and was pleasantly surprised by the digs we were staying at. I was totally going to sleep in the monstrous bed upstairs tonight.
“I’m gonna get the fire going again while you finish breakfast.” Boink came up behind me, set a cup of coffee on the counter by me, then rested his hand on my waist. “Morning, Mayra.” His voice was low and rumbly from having just woken up, and it sent goosebumps over my skin.
“Morning,” I croaked.
He pressed a kiss to the side of my head, and his hand trailed across my waist as he pulled away.
Things were changing between Boink and me.
As much as I didn’t want to like them, I did.
He had yelled at me and made me feel horrible two days ago, and now, with one small touch from him, my body was on fire. I wanted to follow him into the living room and beg him to touch me again.
“Get a grip, Mayra,” I whispered. I cracked eight eggs into the bowl and got to making breakfast. If I stood there and tried to figure out what was going on with Boink and me, we were never going to eat.
Fallen Lords MC: Books 4-6 Page 22