Chapter 3 LEXIE
LEXIE
It was another bright Saturday morning as I parked my Vespa in the far lot of my favorite place on Earth—Costco.
I loved coming here, where I could wander the aisles and look, touch, and if I was lucky, sample the products.
With ten minutes until opening, I sat on a bench out front and worked the knots out of my ponytail.
With the amount of time I liked to spend with each item, it was best to get in right at opening before the crowds got in my way.
I sighed as I watched a few lucky souls saunter into the warehouse club early, courtesy of their executive membership card.
One day, that would be me. My fingers itched in anticipation as I pulled my binder from my bag.
I double-checked that my markers were in place and my Post-it flags had been replenished.
Today, I was planning a backyard graduation party.
My imaginary clients were celebrating their son’s high school graduation with thirty of their closest friends and family.
They had a mix of vegetarians and meat eaters, so I needed to price out ingredients for a good veggie burger.
Of course I could buy frozen veggie burgers, but my pretend clients didn’t hire the great Chef Lexie for pre-made food.
I chuckled as I ran through the recipes and double-checked my master list. This was a game I liked to play, and what that said about my social life, I chose to ignore.
There was always a family celebration of some kind, with anywhere from five to two hundred guests.
I would come up with a menu, then wander the store hunting down ingredients and prices.
Once that was done, I’d calculate the cost and time and come up with a final quote for the imaginary family.
And then I’d go home to my studio apartment and cook a few of the dishes for my party of one.
Some people might find that a little pathetic, but it was better than sitting at home alone for the millionth time. It gave me purpose, and I felt like I was moving toward my dream rather than treading water.
“What the fuck do I know about vegetarians? If his old lady doesn’t want to eat a beef burger like everyone else, she can bring her own fucking food!”
My eyes widened at the burly man yanking a cart from the corral.
At five-foot-three, I was so short I was sometimes mistaken for a kid pushing her mom’s cart.
This man was so huge he made the cart look like a toy.
His giant hand wrapped around the handle, causing my mind to wonder what else he could wrap that hand around.
My gaze traveled up his tattooed arm to his broad chest covered with a black leather vest with a giant ‘Exiled Reapers’ patch on the back.
My chest tightened as I realized this mountain of a man was a member of the local motorcycle club.
That vest was called a cut, worn by bikers to identify their club and rank.
I’d managed to avoid interacting with them, unlike most of the other twenty-two-year-olds in town.
The girls in my classes were obsessed with the Exiled Reapers and attended parties in hopes of snagging a biker boyfriend.
Even if my absent father hadn’t been a biker who’d abandoned my mother after she got pregnant, I still wouldn’t have gone to the parties. I wasn’t good with crowds and certainly wasn’t looking to date.
I was completely on my own. I managed to pay my bills and tuition, but one unforeseen disaster and I’d be on the street. The last thing I needed was a boyfriend to distract me from my goals or an unplanned pregnancy. I declined every invite but enjoyed listening to their stories in pastry lab.
“Fine!” the biker roared into his phone. “I’ll buy her a stalk of celery and she can put that on a bun and eat it. Hell, I’ll even buy some ranch. It’ll be just like a hotdog.”
I covered my mouth to hide a giggle. If he was here and shopping for food, he was probably getting ready for one of their infamous cookouts.
His mouth formed a tight line as he listened to the person on the other end.
I pulled down my sunglasses and took a moment to ogle the man while I had the chance.
His dark beard was neatly trimmed, and his brown eyes reminded me of amber.
This was probably the sexiest man I’d ever seen in my life.
No wonder the girls went to MC parties. I was starting to regret turning them down for so many years.
I couldn’t hear what the person on the other end of the phone was saying, but based on the fact that the mountain man looked about to explode, I figured the celery dog idea was not going over well.
“Yeah, got it, VP.” He shoved the phone in his pocket. “Mother fucker!”
He lowered his head, taking in deep breaths and trying to calm himself, which I appreciated. Costco was my happy place, and I’d hate for it to absorb any of his angry energy.
A cheerful employee stepped through the large opening and waved to the small crowd.
“Welcome to Costco! We are now open for Gold Star members.” His smile wavered as he caught sight of the biker joining the line of shoppers. He hurried back to his post to scan IDs.
I bit my lip, mind racing as I looked at my binder, then back at the grumpy biker.
He seemed overwhelmed, and that was a feeling I knew well.
He needed help, and I would have loved for someone to help me register for culinary classes.
Or fill out the application for my apartment. Or open my first bank account.
An idea formed in my mind, and if it worked out, it would be a huge opportunity for my business. Before my courage ran out, I pushed my cart forward and stepped next to him in line.
“Um, sir? Excuse me.”
He looked down, his eyes narrowing. I thought he might have growled. Like actually growled like an animal. I planted my feet and stood strong. I’d seen a hell of a lot worse. But it was rude to judge. He might have allergies. Pollen season in North Carolina was no joke.
“I couldn’t help but overhear you’re planning a cookout,” I said, raising my voice over the noise. He grunted. Probably not allergies, then. Seriously, how old was this guy? He was as bad as some of the kids I used to babysit.
“No.” He turned and pushed his cart toward the door, waving his large hand over the card scanner as he walked through.
No? No what? No, he wasn’t planning a cookout?
No, he didn’t want to chat in the Costco line?
Rude. How could he walk off without even knowing what I was offering?
A fire lit in my belly. He was about to learn something.
I’d been getting rejected my entire life. A grumpy brush-off was nothing to me.
I chased after him, flashing my card at the scanner I entered the store.
“Wait.” I placed my hand on his arm to slow him down. “You didn’t even hear what I had to say.”
He sighed and turned to look at me. “You want to come to the cookout?”
“Well, yes, but—”
He brushed my hand away and looked me up and down. My outfit didn’t scream professionalism, but it was fine for Saturday shopping. I was wearing baby pink cotton shorts with a matching long sleeve jacket. The jacket was partially unzipped to show a gold Tinkerbelle on my white tank top.
“You’re cute, I’ll give you that.” He grinned, having liked what he saw, but then shook his head. “But we’ve got enough club bunnies right now. We don’t need anymore.” He turned and walked away.
I rolled my eyes. What a jerk. That was one part of MC life I was all too familiar with.
Club bunnies were women that lived on the compound, and their main job was to have sex with the guys.
I mean, if that’s what they were into, then I loved that for them.
But that wasn’t for me. Even when the bikers were as hot as this guy.
I plastered on a bright smile and squared my shoulders. The urge to call him out for his sexism was strong, but I was trying to get a job, so I held back. I pushed forward and caught up with him as he rounded the first corner.
“Right, well, glad we got that cleared up. I’m Chef Lexie, and I own a catering business. I just so happen to have a free spot on my schedule today, and it sounds like you could use some help.”
“Caterer?” He turned to look at me, blinking several times.
I fought the urge to laugh. That’s right, caveman, women can do more than just screw. Like own a business.
“Yes. I’m a caterer, and I didn’t mean to overhear, but it sounds like you have a cookout this evening and could use some professional help.” I spread my arms wide and did a curtsy. “Chef Lexie, at your service.”
The big guy shifted on his feet and took a deep breath. “Name’s Bear.”
With his size and dark hair and beard, I could see where he got the name.
“Bear, it’s wonderful to meet you.” Wonderful was a bit of a stretch, but I was manifesting the rest of our interaction.
“I’ve got my portfolio here with my most popular recipes.
You can pick out what you want, and we’ll shop for the ingredients, and I’ll meet you back at your clubhouse to cook. ”
His eyes narrowed, and I could tell he was suspicious. Which was understandable. I did sort of drop out of nowhere to save his day.
“You got any vegetarian recipes in there?”
I grinned. “Absolutely. I’ve got a veggie burger and a dozen different sides.”
“You’ve cooked for a 100 people before?”
My smile grew larger. “Of course.” There were 103 residents at the senior home.
“How much?”
YES! This guy must be desperate, but I was willing to take full advantage. “Since you’re here to buy the food, I can take that out of my cost. So then it’s only my time and labor. If I prep the meats, will some of your guys operate the grill? Or will you want me to do that?”
He snorted. At least, I thought that’s what that noise was.
“I’ll handle the grill if you get everything ready.”
That was a relief. I hadn’t had a lot of opportunity to operate a grill, considering they weren’t allowed in the apartment complex where I lived.
I was confident in my ability to make a damn good burger patty and veggie burger.
A little less so in my ability to grill them to perfection.
His help would be huge. And with the amount we’d be cooking, I was sure he’d need help and I’d be able to practice on the grill. This gig was getting better and better.
“For my time, labor, setup and cleanup, I’d say $500.”
When he didn’t even bat an eye, I realized I might have lowballed myself.
“Plus an extra 20% for being last minute,” I rushed out.
The side of his mouth quirked, and I thought he almost wanted to smile.
“You’ve got yourself a deal.” He reached over and shook my hand.
I suppressed a shiver that threatened to run through me.
His hand was massive, large enough that he could crush my fingers to dust if he wanted.
But instead, he was gentle, and I wondered how his giant, gentle hands would feel on other parts of my body.
He released my hand and motioned toward the aisles ahead. “Lead the way, pixie.”