Chapter 10
DUCK
This isn’t good. Not at all. The two of us rolling out of bed at noon.
Melissa making us breakfast. Me letting my belt out a notch after a fucking week because I’m taking seconds on ham and eggs, and I don’t even like eggs.
Going for a ride with Mel at my back before work.
Driving us both to the restaurant, knowing it’s going to be hopping all night.
Then coming home and giving her sweet dreams till the sun comes up.
I don’t want to get used to this if I’m not sure it’s going to last.
It’s great for everybody else. The restaurant is doing better than it’s done in the last couple years.
I know it’s all Mel. She’s fitting in great with the staff and they respect her in the kitchen.
Melissa’s new menu has people coming back and taking her meals home by the carload.
Everything she makes is an instant hit. I don’t know if she can maintain the quality for much longer.
The fact that Mel isn’t putting on weight when I am is worrying because she eats as much as I do, and yet the jeans she arrived with are starting to hang on her because of the hours she’s working in at my restaurant.
My problem is that I haven’t locked her down yet. Melissa was the brave one when she told me how she felt. I need to be the one to make the next move, suggesting that we move this trial period into a permanent thing.
I need her to choose to stay with me in Lonesome.
She has nothing to go back to in Chicago.
No job. No man. No one to look after her, which she obviously fucking needs since her asshole ex and his soon-to-be ex are actively making her life miserable.
I’m the only one who can handle her and the chaos she’ll continue to bring to our lives.
Honestly, I kind of love it. I’m not willing to give it up. Or her.
Melissa is in the shower when Kat texts, telling her to call because there’s too much to type. I pull on my cut and step onto the back porch to make a call in the unseasonably warm March weather. “What?”
“Paula’s legal team is fighting us regarding submitting affidavits. They are requesting the judge require all witnesses to testify in person.”
“Is that normal?” I ask.
“Not at all. It’s a dickhead move that’s expensive for both parties.
It will make for good drama on the society blogs.
It sounds like that’s Paula’s goal. More scandal, more coverage, more free advertising for her restaurant.
In tangentially related news, according to Bob’s lawyer, Bob is missing.
Paula is making statements that stop just short of actually accusing Melissa of being responsible,” Kat reports. “It’s a shit show.”
“What do you mean Bob’s missing? Do they think that Paula did something to him?
Do they think Melissa did something to him?
” She certainly had reason to. She might grieve him for a while, but Mel would be better off if Bob did disappear.
Not like this, though. Not leaving her in the crosshairs with the police and his soon-to-be ex.
I could do it cleaner.
“Off the clock speculation between me and Mel’s lawyer?
He’s disappeared because he wants out. Since Paula got Mel involved in the divorce proceedings, Mel’s lawyer is getting more of the details than normal.
Bob used all his available cash after the divorce to buy into Paula’s share of Martinique.
Now with Melissa gone and Paula calling some of the shots, the restaurant is not doing well.
We think Bob realizes how badly he fucked up when he fucked Melissa over. ”
“Do you think Bob is going to make a play to get Mel back?” Not like that would ever happen. Melissa’s too smart and too proud. That moron had her heart and loyalty in the palm of his hand and threw her away. She’s done with him. “He can’t fucking have her. She’s remarried. She’s mine.”
“Are you sure, Duck?”
“Absolutely.”
“Does Melissa feel the same way?”
“She does. I’ll let her know that you called. Bye, Kat.” After years of having my brothers’ backs, it’s time for them to return the favor. I need to convince Melissa to stay on my own. But they can sure as hell help when it comes to getting rid of her Bob and Paula problems.
I start the coffee, drop two slices of bread into the toaster, and pull out Melissa’s yogurt.
I look around my kitchen. I take note of the burn marks on the laminate countertop by the stove, and of the cupboard door that doesn’t swing completely closed.
This kitchen is fifty years old, and it shows.
It’s fine for a single guy who doesn’t really cook, but Melissa will need more.
“I thought I heard my phone while I was getting out of the shower,” she says as she comes into the kitchen, shaking out her wild, brown hair.
“You did.” I bring her up to date.
She shows how in synch we are when she says, “Do they think that I disappeared Bob?”
“No, but Kat and I think you should keep your eyes open in case he shows up here.”
“That fucker better not come to Lonesome. I doubt he will. He’ll never willingly leave the big city.”
It’s a small opening, but I’ll take it. “How about you? Would you be happy if you left Chicago permanently?” We have to pick a place to live if we’re going to make this work. I don’t know if it’s selfishness, but I think we’d both be better off here. It’s not solely my decision.
“Leave Chicago for someplace smaller? Like Lonesome?”
“Like Lonesome,” I agree.
She takes a long drag of her coffee. “That’s two separate conversations, Duck.
The professional side is easier to measure.
There are a lot of pluses for staying here.
You have a good business model for being in a town this size since you have a captive client base and no competition.
Working with you and Mason is a hell of a lot easier than dealing with a conglomerate of owners all trying to put their fingerprints on my dishes.
The downside is that I’d be limited by the tastes of the area which means I couldn’t get as funky as I like to on occasion. ”
“You’re a genius in the kitchen. If anyone could find a way to get funky, it’s you.” We can make the restaurant work for her. “What about the personal side?” It’s a hell of an ask. Picking up and moving to a small town where she doesn’t know anyone means she’s risking absolutely everything.
“I love you, Duck. That’s not in question. But I’m forty years old. At twenty, you can jump blindly into a new place and still have a lifetime to recover from a few years wasted on a bad decision. You have friends and family here. I have you. If we’re wrong about us, this could break me.”
“I’m not wrong. In fact, I’m absolutely sure it’s the right move, Melissa.
I love you. My friends and family will love you too.
You’ve seen North Dakota in February. It all gets better from here.
Although, as long as you’re with me, it’s already as good as it can get.
” I won’t ask for anything else as long as I live if she says she’ll stay.
Mel sets her coffee cup on the counter so she can slip her arms around my waist. “Just so we’re both on the same page professionally: the restaurant is yours and Mason’s, but the kitchen is mine with the proviso that I will put special requests on the menu.”
“I’ll clear it with my little brother.”
She tightens her grip, pulling me closer until her breasts are pressed against my chest. “And personally, you’ll wake me up with coffee in bed as often as possible?”
“I’ll wake you up with sex as often as possible. Then I’ll bring you coffee in bed,” I counter.
“And even though you’re a big, bad biker, you’ll tell me that you love me every day, even when I’m causing trouble. Because, let’s be honest, we both know I’m going to, if for no other reason than I’m bored.”
“I do love you, Mel. Are you saying you’ll move here?”
“I am.”
A realization hits. “We do everything backwards, don’t we? First, we get married. Then we plan our future together.”
“Yeah, so?”
“You know what’s left?”
Her eyes go wide. Then she starts laughing “We need to have a blow-out engagement party.”
“Damn straight. The biggest one Lonesome has ever seen.”
I press Melissa into a cabinet and start to kiss her senseless. She lets go of me, which makes me groan, but then she puts her hands on the countertop and hops up so she can wrap her legs around me, which is much better.
I slide my hand under her shirt and find her bra clasp when my phone starts dinging with the sound of a bunch of incoming texts. This many can’t be good news. “Fuck,” I growl. “Don’t move, Trouble.”
I pull my phone from my pocket and see:
Deke D: Are you expecting anyone?
Deke Dobermann works at the Lonesome Garage on Main Street.
It’s a common place for people to stop and ask for directions.
Deke isn’t a Lost Soul, and he hasn’t been to the restaurant since Melissa took over the kitchen, but his cousin JD and JD’s woman have met her.
Deke also has the experience of knowing what happened when other outsiders arrived unexpectedly in Lonesome.
Deke D: White guy, 40s, slick city energy. Rental car.
Holy fuck, I can’t believe that Bob just rolled into Lonesome. He must know the reception he’ll receive.
Me: Did he ask for Melissa?
Deke D: yes.
Me: Send him to the clubhouse. Tell him I’ll be there in 15.
I need to make sure Melissa is secure. I don’t know what Bob wants, but there is no way that motherfucker is getting anywhere near her. Especially now that I’ve convinced her to stay.
I finish sending that text when my cell phone pings with another incoming message.
Tolk: There’s a suit at the café asking for Melissa.
Bob can’t have moved that fast.
Me: Describe him.
Tolk: Money.
I don’t know what the fuck is going on. If this is Bob, who is the first guy? I don’t like it.
Me: Tell him I’ll be there in 10.
Tolk: Do you need backup?
Me: Yes.