“It’s alright, Vixen. I know I’m pretty.”
I scoffed. “Why do you and your brother call me that?”
He glanced at me again, and the light bouncing off the dash made his eyes look like bottomless pools of tropical water.
“It fits. You walked into our bar last night looking like every man’s dream. I knew you were trouble the moment I laid my eyes on you. Then you set a prospect’s bike on fire, bit me, and spent your entire evening raising hell like you were its queen. We certainly weren’t gonna call you Angel.”
I raised my chin defiantly. “I’m nobody’s angel.”
He winked at me. “Don’t I know it, baby girl.”
My blush came back with a vengeance, and I looked out the window again. He laughed, a low sound that went straight to my core—a feeling I promptly ignored.
At the store, I meandered up and down aisles, at acomplete loss on what to grab. It’s not like I’d made a list or anything. Dalton followed me and, after our third aisle, said, “Hey Vixen, usually when someone goes grocery shopping, they put things they need in the cart.”
“I dunno what to get,” I admitted.
He grabbed a box of Frosted Flakes off the shelf and tossed them in the cart. “Get whatever you want. I got the club’s card from Mac before we left. It’s been a long time since we’ve had a woman like you in the house. We’re long overdue for a stock-up.”
“A woman like me?”
“You’re not a patch bunny. Women with class don’t tend to linger.”
“Oh.” I pursed my lips and then grabbed a couple other boxes of cereal off the shelf, tossing them in blindly.
We spent the next thirty minutes getting things I thought we’d need. Every time I hesitated, he encouraged me to just buy it so I didn’t have to worry about it later. By the time we got to the meat section, the cart was pretty damn full.
I bit my lip. “Dalton, this is going to be a very expensive trip if we get meat.”
He shrugged again. “And you’re gonna have a bunch of pissed-off bikers if you try and make us go vegetarian. Grab a few steaks, Vixen, and whatever else you want. Don’t worry about the cost.”
When we got to the truck, he made me get in the cab while he loaded the bed with our haul. I read over the mile-long receipt, wincing at the price at the end. Dalton hadn’t even blinked when the cashier read our total, just handed over a shiny black card and gave her a million-watt smile. I’m pretty sure she swooned.
I looked up as Dalton climbed in next to me. “I could’ve helped with that, you know.”
He reached over and patted my thigh in a surprisingly familiar gesture. “Yeah, Vixen, I know. But that’s not my style.” He sent a quick text, and then we headed back.
Hehonked as we pulled up in front of the warehouse, and a small herd of bikers came flooding out. They swarmed the truck like ants, and next thing I knew, they’d grabbed all the groceries and headed into the kitchen. This display of chivalry seemed positively medieval, and it threw me off. The file I’d read didn’t prepare me for all this. They work with me, putting up all the groceries and following my directions as to where I wanted them, all the while joking around with each other. Occasionally, one of them would hold up an item he found particularly pleasing, and the others would cheer.
As I stood there, watching a bunch of bikers cheering over a bag of mandarin oranges, I realized something that shocked me—they were a family. Maybe a little different and a whole lot of fucked up, but a family all the same. A unit. It was kind of amazing.
When everything had been put away, I couldn’t help but smile. I loved the sight of a well-stocked kitchen; it filled me with a sense of peace. What Mac and Dalton didn’t know was that I loved to cook, and I was damn good at it too. The kitchen was my happy place. I was less enthused about the cleaning aspect of the job, but I could do this—I think. I glanced at the clock, and noticed it was just past four. A few of the bikers still mingled in the background, but I paid them little mind as I set to work. I wasn’t quite sure how many I was cooking for, but from what I’d seen, it would be a full house.
While I was cooking, Mac came in and grabbed a beer from the fridge. He started to walk away, and then stopped. Looking from me to the fridge and then back to me, his brow furrowed. I tossed a pan of sliced veggies and watched him go back to the fridge. Opening it, I heard him say, “Huh.” I guess it had taken him a second to comprehend the fridge had suddenly become fully stockedin his absence. He came up to me and leaned on the counter, watching me. I glanced at him with raised eyebrows, but he just sipped his beer.
Finally, I broke the silence. “Can I help you, or are you just trying to become one with the rooster decor?”
To my surprise, he actually laughed. “Am I bothering you, Vixen?”
Sighing, I added some more seasoning to the pan. “No, I’m just not used to being watched. Can you hand me that bowl?”
He slid it towards me, and after throwing the meat that had been marinating into the pan, I covered it and turned off the heat. I moved to the kitchen island, noticing more bikers had made their way into the room. Mac left his spot, grabbed a six-pack from the fridge, and joined them. I made a mental note to add beer to the next grocery list. A lot of beer. I laid out toppings for steak fajitas, and then went on a hunt for plates and bowls. Finally, I holler, “Alright, Saints, come and get it.”
I waited for them to come rushing into the kitchen, but they all seemed to be waiting for something. I frowned at Dalton, who was sitting at the table, and he nodded towards the other door, which promptly swung open. Much to my surprise, more people came in—including women and even a couple of kids. One of them, a pretty Hispanic lady with a baby on her hip, smiled at me, her brown eyes open and friendly. I smiled back as another kid came running out from behind her, stopping in front of me.
“Hello!” he said, grinning up at me, a couple of teeth missing and with brown eyes just like his mother’s, bright with mischief. “My name is Diego. I’m eight. That’s my mom. She said to be nice to you. She said that ‘cos my dad and his friends can be dicks sometimes, you would need a friend. What does that mean?”
My jaw dropped, and I looked up at his mom, whose eyes had widened to the size of saucers.
