by L. Wilder
“I’m sure you will."
While I was a little disappointed that the trip to the river wasn’t going to pan out, it was fun talking to the girls about our other options. By the time everyone was ready to call it a night, we’d come up with several good options, but before any final decisions were made, they decided to check with the other ol’ ladies to see if they’d like to come along. Even though it was because of my being Clay’s sister, it still meant a lot that they’d even think of including me. When it came time to pack up and leave, I gave the girls each an armful of leftovers and thanked them once again for all their help.
After I watched them back out of my driveway, I headed inside to finish cleaning up. I was about to start washing dishes when I heard a commotion in the backyard. I went to see what was up and found Beckett picking up empty bottles and trash and tossing it all into the garbage can.
“Hey, I thought you’d already gone.”
“I wanted to help you clean up a bit first.”
“Thanks, but I can do that.”
He continued on with what he was doing like I hadn’t said anything. “You got any more trash bags?”
“Yeah, let me grab one from the kitchen.” I rushed inside and pulled out a couple, then took them back out to Beckett. “Here ya go.”
I grabbed some empty bottles and tossed them inside the bag. As we continued on, he asked, “You have a good time tonight?”
“I had a blast. What about you?”
“Yeah, I had a good time.”
He threw some more trash into the bag, then looked over to me when I said, “We didn’t get much time to talk.”
“No, we didn’t.”
A smile crept across my face. “Maybe we can rectify that.”
“Oh yeah? What do you have in mind?”
“Well, we could have a drink now, or you could come back one night next week, and I could fix you dinner or something. Let you try out my cooking.”
When he didn’t immediately answer, I thought he was going to turn me down, but then he surprised me by saying, “How about both?”
“Both would be great.” I walked over to the cooler and grabbed a couple of beers, then walked back over to Beckett. As I offered him one, I told him, “Just leave that. I’ll get it in the morning.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah. Besides, you’ve already gotten most of it.”
Beckett followed me over to the lawn chairs the guys had brought, and we sat down. Like the times before, our conversation came easy. We talked about everything from what he was working on down at the garage to how nervous I was about starting my internship. I found it strange how much I enjoyed being with him, but no matter how strange it might’ve seemed, he had a way of setting my mind at ease and making me feel safe in a way no man ever had. That thought made me want to get to know him a little better.
“Okay ... So, I’ve got a question for you.” I took a sip of my beer and smiled. “Actually, I have a few questions—if you’re up for it.”
“I’m up for it.” He opened his beer and took a drink. “Whatcha got on your mind?”
“Just a couple random questions, but as one friend to another, I’ll warn ya—think before you answer.” Beckett’s brows furrowed as he considered what I said, and I knew I had him. With a big smile, I crossed my legs and leaned towards him. “Are you ready?”
“Bring it, friend.”
“What’s your favorite movie?”
“Seriously?”
“You said you were up for it,” I pushed.
“Well, I’m going to need you to be a little more specific.” He cocked his eyebrow, and I felt a little chill rush down my spine. “Are we talking about a recent movie or an old one? Specific genre or whatever?”
“You’re overthinking it.”
“Well, you told me to think before I answered, sooo ...”
“Touché. Let’s just say your all-time favorite. Any genre. Any timeframe.”
“Okay, then I’d say Rio Bravo.”
“Hmm ... John Wayne. My dad loved his movies. How about your favorite band?”
“That depends. Are we talking about—”
“Beckett,” I fussed.
“Okay. When I’m out riding, it’s Metallica all the way. If not, then I’m pretty much an 80s guy.”
“‘Enter Sandman.’” I smiled.
“So, you know them?”
“A little. Clay used to listen to them when we were growing up.”
He nodded. “‘The Unforgiven’ is one of my favorites, but ‘Enter Sandman’ is a close second.”
“Good to know. And one last question ... How old were you when you got your first kiss?”
“Eleven or twelve.” He shook his head with a snicker. “Damn, that was a really long fucking time ago.”
“You got yourself an early start.” I took a sip of my beer hoping it would help ease the sinking feeling that was growing in the pit of my stomach. “I was fifteen before I had my first kiss, and it wasn’t all that great.”
“Oh? Why’s that?”
“I don’t know. Maybe it was just the fact that I didn’t know what I was doing or maybe it was because the guy had braces. Either way, it was pretty terrible.”
“Nothing worse than a mouth full of metal.” He chuckled as he said, “Well, I hope your other firsts weren’t as bad.”
That feeling in the pit of my stomach plummeted, making me regret ever bringing up the “first kiss” question. I’d enjoyed our light-hearted conversation, and the last thing I wanted to do was dampen it by delving any deeper into the firsts conversation. Even though I wasn’t ready for the night to end, I figured it was best to keep things on a light note, so I yawned and stretched. “As much as I’m enjoying this, it’s getting kind of late.”
“Yeah, it is.” Beckett stood and took my empty bottle from my hand, tossing it into the trash. “You need help with anything else before I go?”
“No, thanks. You’ve already done enough.”
He nodded, then paused as he studied me for a moment. I would’ve given anything to know what was going through his head at that moment, but I was left completely in the dark as he turned towards the back gate. “I’ll see you around, freckles.”
“Hey, wait a minute.” I rushed over to him. “What about dinner?”
“You don’t have to go to any trouble.”
“But I want to ... you know, as a way to thank you for everything, and maybe you could give me your thoughts on a new French recipe I’ve been putting together for work.”
Beckett thought for a moment, then nodded. “Sure, I’d be up for that. Just name the day and time, and I’ll be there.”
“How about tomorrow night around six?”
“I’ll be here.”
“Great, I’ll see you then.” Once he was gone, I finished cleaning up and went to bed.
The next morning I woke up late, fighting a fog, when I suddenly remembered that I’d invited Beckett over for dinner. I sat up in the bed and started to panic. Damn, I wasn’t the least bit prepared. I had no idea what I was going to cook; I didn’t have any groceries, and I wasn’t even sure if I had enough pots and pans. That thought had me jumping out of bed and rushing into the kitchen. I rummaged through all the cabinets, and the second I found my grandmother’s old cast iron stew pot, I knew exactly what I’d make for Beckett. My Louisiana French-Creole recipe was a family favorite, and with all the crawfish, shrimp, sausage, and corn, I hoped Beckett would love it just as much as they did.
I pulled out the pots and pans I’d need, then made a grocery list. Once I had everything planned out, I raced back to the bedroom, threw on some clothes, then headed to store. Since I didn’t have any of the basics, it took me a while to gather all the items, and by the time I got back to the house and put the groceries away it was already after three.
I knew once I started cooking it would be hard to stop, so I decided to get my shower out of the way. Choosing to keep it simple, I wore a pair of sho
rts and a t-shirt with my hair pulled up. I put on a little makeup, then rushed into the kitchen to start the creole.
The roux was the most complicated and essential step to my gumbo, so using my grandmother’s pot, I added the butter and flour and got to work. I’d just started getting the roux to where I wanted when there was a knock at the door. I glanced over at the clock and groaned, noticing it was almost six; then I pulled the pot off the burner and went to answer the door. Beckett was standing on my front porch, looking hot as molasses in his black t-shirt and jeans.
“Hey, Beckett. Come on in.” I smiled at him.
He nodded, then followed me into the kitchen and placed a bottle of wine on the counter. “I brought wine.”
“I see that. Thanks.” I motioned my hand at the huge mess. “I’m sorry. I’m running a little behind.”
“Anything I can do to help?”
“Would you mind dicing up some onion, a red pepper, and the celery?”
“Sure.” He went over to the sink and washed his hands, then opened a couple of cabinets until he found the cutting board. I started working on the stock while he got busy dicing. After several minutes, he asked, “So, what are we making?”
“Gumbo.”
“Seriously?” he asked, sounding pleasantly surprised. “I haven’t had gumbo in months.”
“So you like it?”
Beckett chuckled as he stuck his belly out and ran his hand over it. “Can’t you tell? There aren’t many things I don’t like.”
“Hush. You look great.”
“If you say so.” I continued to stir the stock as he asked, “You mentioned that you’ve been cooking since you were a kid, right?”
“Yeah, or maybe I should say that I started trying when I was just a kid. It took some time before I was any good at it.” I glanced over my shoulder and smiled. “What about you? Do you like to cook?”
“I guess you could say I know my way around the kitchen, but I don’t really cook all that often.” He shrugged. “Just don’t have the time.”
“So, what do you do with your free time?”
“I don’t get much of that, but when I do, I usually take the bike out. Do a little riding with a couple of the brothers. Usually head down to the lake or just spend the day checking out the back roads.”
“Sounds like fun.”
“You should come with us sometime,” Beckett offered.
“I would really like that.” I gathered the vegetables Beckett had diced, then added them to the pot. As I stirred them into the roux, I continued, “I rode a couple of times with Viper, but that’s been ages ago.”
“We’ll have to rectify that.” He walked over to the stove, and as he peered over his shoulder, he said, “It smells great.”
“Oh, we’re just getting started.” I motioned my hand over to the sausage and asked, “Would you mind cutting those for me?”
“Sure, no problem.” He placed the sausage on a cutting board and got busy once again. “So, did you girls ever decide on what trip you wanted to take?”
“No, they were kind of all over the place.”
“They usually are.” He joked. “But they definitely keep things interesting.”
“I’m sure they do.” I added the garlic to the roux and then slowly poured in the stock. “I bet you all have a great time over at the clubhouse.”
“We do.” He nodded. “Some greater than others.”
“I can still remember the times my dad took me over to see my uncle, Viper, at his clubhouse. There was always music playing in the bar, and the guys were either acting all goofy and silly, or they were deadly serious, making me scared to even be in the same room with them.”
“I get that. I’m sure the girls would say the same was true about us.” Beckett started prepping the corn and other vegetables as he said, “Guess you could say there’s a time and place for everything.”
“Viper would definitely agree with you there.” I collected the rest of the vegetables from Beckett. “Thanks for helping. I’m really sorry I didn’t have it all ready when you got here.”
“Don’t be. I’m enjoying watching the fancy French chef do her thing.”
“Ha! I’m far from fancy, and I’m still learning the ins and outs of French cuisine.”
“You’re a smart girl. I’m sure it won’t take you long to figure it out.”
Beckett and I continued to banter back and forth as we put together the best gumbo I’d had in years. We ate outside under the stars, and I couldn’t remember a night when I’d enjoyed someone’s company as much as I had his. I hated for the night to end, but it was getting late and Beckett had an early morning. On his way out the door, he gave me a quick hug and thanked me for dinner. I stood in the doorway and watched as he walked over and got on his motorcycle. Damn, I’d never seen a sexier sight than that man on his black Harley motorcycle. Just looking at him had my hormones raging to life. I closed the door, and as I headed to bed, I knew I was going to have all kinds of good dreams.
5
T-Bone
“Gotta be there before ten.” We were all sitting around the conference table, listening as Gus went over the plan for our upcoming run. We’d been doing the pipeline with five of our other chapters for the last couple of years, each clubhouse contributing to make one big take. I had to admit that things have been going very well. We all made a fuck-load of money and had every intention of continuing our success. “That’s earlier than usual, so we’ll need to head out around four in the morning instead of seven,” Gus continued.
Clearly concerned, Moose’s eyes narrowed as he asked, “What’s with the change?”
Moose was the club’s VP, and just like Gus, he was always careful, wanting to make sure that nothing put the club at risk. Knowing Moose like he did, Gus didn’t seem surprised by his question. Instead, he simply answered, “Ronin said there was an issue at the dock last week ... Something to do with the water quality or some shit around the inlet we’ve been using, and they’ve got the Coast Guard monitoring the number of boats coming in and out.”
“How the hell are we supposed to get around that shit?” Murphy asked.
“Ronin assured me that he’s got it covered, and he’s never given me reason to think that he doesn’t.” Ronin was our main distributor and an invaluable asset to the club and our pipeline. Once we received the shipments from our other chapters, it was up to us to deliver the goods to him, then he would distribute them to our buyers. Even when times got tough, Ronin had always pulled through for us, so it was no surprise that Gus had such faith in him. After a brief pause, Gus looked out at us and said, “I still want you boys to take every precaution; be certain you do your part to make sure this run goes off without a hitch.”
“You know we will,” Murphy assured him.
“That’s what I wanted to hear.” He stood as he said, “You know what needs to be done to get things ready for the morning. Make sure it gets done.”
“Understood.”
As soon as Gus left the table, church was over. Each of us left the conference room and headed to prepare for the run. It was the same every time—inspect the weapons and ammunition, check the contents of each crate, and prep the trailers we’d use to haul the load. We all did our part in getting everything sorted for each and every run. Murphy and I had just finished checking all the munitions with Hyde when Shadow, the club’s enforcer, came over to us.
“Everything set?”
“Yeah, we’re all good here.”
“All right. I’ll let Gus know.” A smirk crossed Shadow’s face as he asked, “How’d it go with the move the other day?”
“I think it went pretty well.” It’d been almost a week since the party, but I could still remember the smile on her face when she talked about her place. “She seems happy with it.”
“She’s more than happy,” Clay added. “Hell, I haven’t seen her that excited since she was a kid.”
“Glad to hear it. Sorry we couldn’t help out. Alex had
a big shipment come into the bookstore, so we were pretty wrapped up.”
“Don’t worry about it. We managed just fine.” Clay gave him a pat on the shoulder. “You missed some good eatin’ though. Murphy made us one hell of a burger.”
“Hate I missed it.”
“We’ll do it again soon. Landry has been wanting have everyone over at our place.”
“Sounds good.”
As Clay turned to leave, he said, “I’ll see you boys in the morning.”
“Have a good one.” Once he’d left, Shadow turned his attention back to me, and I could tell by his expression that he had something on his mind. “So, what’s Clay think about you and Alyssa?”
“What about me and Alyssa?”
He cocked his eyebrow. “You know.”
“Nah, man. There’s nothing going on between us.”
“I don’t know, brother. From what I’m hearing, she was all about the Bone the other night at the party.”
I knew he was just fucking with me, so I shook my head and said, “Bullshit. You and I both know better than that.”
“I don’t have any idea. I wasn’t there.” He studied me for a moment, then asked, “Have you seen her since?”
“Yeah, she made me dinner.” It seemed all my brothers had it in their head that something was up with Alyssa and me, and to my surprise, none had seemed to have an issue with it. That was something I didn’t quite understand. I would’ve thought they’d have told me to steer clear; instead, they seemed to be encouraging it. I could see the wheels turning in his head, so I quickly added, “It was no big deal. She just wanted to do something to thank me for helping her find a place.”
“Mm-hmm. Sure,” he scoffed. “Whatever you say, boss.”
He gave me a brotherly slap on the back, then turned and walked away, leaving me wondering if I’d been wrong about this whole dinner. It was a thought that stuck with me as I headed home for the night. I won’t deny that I was intrigued by the idea of there being something more going on between us, but I’d already gone over it a million fucking times. There was no way in hell it would ever work, so I wasn’t going to waste any more time thinking about it. Besides, I didn’t have time for distractions. I needed to be focused on the run and nothing else. I held that resolve as I made it to the house and went straight to bed. It felt like I’d just gone to sleep when the time came for me to get up and head back to the clubhouse. Not wanting to be late, I forced myself out of bed, grabbed some coffee, and minutes later, I was on my way.