5. Chapter 4 #2
After a quick shower, I pulled on the clothes Jack had provided which was another pair of jeans and a tank top, plus that damn property vest. The leather was already softening against my skin, molding to my body in a way that felt disturbingly like acceptance.
I frowned at my reflection in the mirror, wondering how I'd gone from independent woman to marked property. Just that fucking talented, I guess.
The clubhouse was quiet as I made my way to the kitchen, though I spotted a few members passed out on couches or slumped over tables.
The aftermath of whatever had happened with the Copperhead sighting, I guessed.
I stepped over a snoring body and pushed through the kitchen doors, spending the next hour and a half cooking like my life depended on it.
Pancakes stacked high on platters, bacon and sausage sizzling in pans, hash browns crisping in the oven, and enough scrambled eggs to feed a small army.
The rhythmic chopping and stirring calmed my nerves, just like it always had back on the farm when Mom was too sick to cook and Dad needed a hot meal before heading out to the fields.
The smell must have worked its magic because by the time I was plating everything, the kitchen door swung open. One biker entered, then another, and soon there was a crowd of leather clad men eyeing the food like wolves circling a wounded deer.
"Morning, boys," I said, forcing confidence into my voice as I placed the last platter on the counter. "Breakfast is served."
A tall guy with a wild beard was the first to move, reaching for a plate and already piling it high. The others followed suit, creating a small stampede toward the food. I stepped back, watching as they descended like locusts, grabbing and shoving without any semblance of order.
"Hold it!" I slammed my wooden spoon against the counter hard enough to make several of them jump. "This is all I'm making today, so if you want to eat, you'll line up properly and take reasonable portions." I planted myself in front of the food, hip cocked to one side, spoon held like a weapon.
The bikers froze, exchanging glances that ranged from amused to disbelieving. One of them, the guy who'd nearly started a fight over chili yesterday, let out a disbelieving laugh.
"You telling us what to do, little girl?"
I swallowed hard but stuck my chin up and held my ground. "I'm telling you how to get fed. There's a difference."
The tension in the room thickened as several large men stared me down. My heart hammered against my ribs, but I kept my chin up and my grip tight on the spoon. Farm life had taught me one thing. You never show weakness to predators.
"You got a problem with the way my woman wants you to behave in her kitchen, you can fuckin’ starve."
Jack's voice cut through the tension like a knife. He stood in the doorway, arms crossed over his massive chest, those blue eyes taking in the scene with dangerous calm. I hadn't heard him approach, but the effect of his presence was immediate. The men straightened, a few even taking steps back.
"No problem, Prez," the bearded man said quickly. "Just admiring the spread."
"Then form a fuckin' line and show some fuckin’ respect.
" Jack moved further into the room, coming to stand beside me.
His hand brushed against my lower back, a touch so brief I might have imagined it if not for the warmth that bloomed under my skin.
"My old lady went to all this trouble. Least you assholes can do is eat like humans, not fuckin’ animals. "
The tension broke as the men laughed, forming a surprisingly orderly line. Jack stayed beside me, his shoulder nearly touching mine as the club members filed past, filling their plates with murmured thanks and appreciative nods.
"Didn't expect to find you feeding my men," Jack said quietly, his voice pitched for my ears alone. "Thought you'd still be asleep."
"I wake up early," I shrugged, serving him a heaping plate before taking a more modest portion for myself. "And I figured if I'm stuck here, I might as well be useful."
His eyes crinkled at the corners, not quite a smile but close. "You're more than useful, darlin'."
We sat at a large table in the adjoining room, surrounded by his men.
Jack took the head of the table naturally, and I found myself directed to the seat at his left, a position that seemed to carry some significance based on the looks exchanged around us.
Throughout the meal, Jack kept finding reasons to touch me, brushing a crumb from my cheek with his thumb, his hand resting briefly on the small of my back as he leaned past me to grab the salt, his knee pressing against mine under the table.
Each contact sent sparks skittering across my skin, making it hard to focus on my food.
Across the room, I caught Wren watching us, her purple hair bright against the dim lighting.
Her eyes tracked each interaction between me and Jack, a knowing smile playing at the corners of her mouth.
When our gazes met, she raised an eyebrow and mouthed something that looked suspiciously like "told you so." Because the whole reason she’d hounded me into coming to that stupid party in the first Goddamned place was so I could actually see Jack in the flesh, so to speak. I hadn’t believed he could possibly be as hot in person as he was in pictures.
Heat crept up my neck, and I looked away quickly, focusing intently on my plate.
I’d been right. He wasn’t as hot in person. He was hotter.
After breakfast, as the men actually cleaned up and washed everything before filtering out to their various duties, Jack's hand closed around my wrist. The contrast between his calloused palm and my skin made my breath catch.
"Come with me," he said, his voice low and gruff.
He led me through the clubhouse, nodding at members as we passed but not stopping to chat.
We turned down a quiet hallway, away from the main areas.
Before I could ask where we were going, he gently backed me against the wall, resting hands against the smooth surface so his massive frame blocking out everything else and I was completely surrounded. By him.
"You handled that well," he murmured, his face inches from mine. "Most women would've buckled under that kind of pressure."
I swallowed hard, acutely aware of how close he was, how that scent of leather, soap, and something uniquely Jack wrapped around me.
"I grew up on a farm with a sickly mother and a workaholic father. When Mom couldn’t, I cooked for everyone, including the work hands.
Takes more than a few hungry men to scare me. "
His lips curved into a genuine smile, transforming his harsh features into something that made my heart stutter. "You're full of surprises, Honey."
The way he said my name, like it was something precious to be savored, sent heat pooling low in my belly. His gaze dropped to my mouth, and he leaned in closer, one hand coming up to brush a strand of hair from my face.
"Jack," I whispered, not sure if I was asking him to stop or begging him to continue.
His lips hovered just above mine, his breath warm against my skin. I closed my eyes, surrendering to this magnetic pull between us…
The crack of gunshots shattered the moment.
Jack jerked back, his entire demeanor shifting in an instant from desire to deadly focus.
"Fucking Copperheads," he snarled, already moving away.
"Stay inside. Find Wren if you need anything.
" With those barked orders, he was gone, leaving me pressed against the wall with my heart pounding and my lips still tingling from a kiss that never happened.
* * *
"You know, mac and cheese is sacred in this clubhouse.
Fuck it up and they'll vote you out faster than if you were a rat.
" Wren’s purple hair was pulled up in a messy bun, tendrils escaping to frame her face as she demonstrated the proper stirring technique with exaggerated movements.
After yesterday's gunfire — which turned out to be warning shots from the Copperheads testing our defenses — the kitchen felt like the safest place in the compound since the windows were high up and the outside walls were framed in concrete blocks.
"I've been making mac and cheese since I was tall enough to reach the stove," I protested. “Besides, this is my mother’s recipe. Guaranteed to please.”
"OK. But you’re competing against Ghost’s grandma.
And that’s a pretty fuckin’ high bar, girl.
" Wren grinned, as I added another handful of freshly shredded cheese to the bubbling mixture. "Also, keep in mind, the secret weapon for keeping these assholes in line is Ghost’s grandma’s mac and cheese.
They'll do anything for a second helping, including shanking Jack with a shiv. True story."
I wiped my hands on the apron Wren had found for me.
The black material had the club's emblem stitched across the front. Now it sported no small amount of flour on the sides where I’d brushed my off my hands several times.
The kitchen around us was organized chaos, every surface covered with ingredients or cooking vessels.
We'd been at it for hours, preparing what Wren called a "proper club feast."
"Brisket's almost done," I said, checking the smoker just outside the kitchen for easy access. "Beans, too."
"Perfect." Wren clapped her hands in excitement, her smile going practically from ear to ear. These guys might act tough, but they want their comfort food made with love, just like everyone else."
The cheese sauce thickened to the perfect consistency and I added the noodles before mixing everything together, adding the last of the cheese, then putting the whole thing in the oven.
“How long have you lived here?” It wasn’t my business but I really liked the other woman and wanted to get to know her better.