Chapter 9
Chapter nine
Cash
“Fuck, I’m beat,” Braxton says as he gets off his bike at the clubhouse.
We just got back from another run, this one taking us down to New Orleans, then up to Michigan to drop off some inventory to the Iron Disciples for the Monaghans.
It’s been a week on the road, and we’re all fucking tired.
Linc and Jude opted to go home to their women, while Braxton, Barrett, and I came back to the clubhouse.
“Good thing the Monaghans don’t use the NOLA port much anymore. I think it’s going to be a while before we have to go back down,” Barrett says, hopping out of the van we take with us. “Help me unload my bike, and we’ll have a few beers. I need it after today.”
“I sure as fuck hope they don’t need us down there again before November. I don’t think I’ve sweated so much in my goddamn life,” Braxton says, opening the back of the van and pulling the ramp out.
Barrett and Braxton hop up into the back, and Barrett undoes the straps holding his bike down as Braxton keeps it steady from behind.
“Then you’re doing something wrong, brother. Nothing like a good, sweaty workout with a beautiful woman,” Barrett quips.
“Shut the hell up, and make sure the bike doesn’t fall over,” Braxton replies.
“Cranky,” Barrett teases.
If looks could kill, the man would be dying a very painful death right about now from the knives shooting out of Braxton’s eyes.
I shake my head and grab my saddlebags before walking into the clubhouse.
One of our prospects, Gabe, hops up from the couch as soon as he sees me. “You need some help out there?”
“Nah, they got it. You can set us up with some beers, though.”
“On it.” He heads to the bar and pops the cap off three longnecks just as Barret and Braxton make their way inside.
“All I’m saying is that girl in New Orleans was absolutely giving you the eye. Shit, any of the girls at the Disciples’ clubhouse would’ve been more than willing to drop to their knees for you,” Barrett says to Braxton as they walk into the clubhouse.
“Why are you so fucking obsessed with my sex life? You had your hands full everywhere we stopped. Don’t worry about where I get mine.”
“But are you getting it?” Barrett asks our very annoyed-looking sergeant at arms. “It’s not healthy to not unload, if you know what I mean. That shit could cause cancer.”
“Where the hell did you hear that?” Braxton asks.
Barrett shrugs as he comes to sit next to me at the bar. “I don’t know. It’s one of those things everyone knows, though.”
“You’re an idiot,” Braxton replies.
“Tell him, Cash.” Barrett waves from me to Braxton. “You need to empty your balls, otherwise that shit backs up.”
“I don’t want to talk about another man’s balls,” I reply. “But I do find it odd you’re so concerned with Braxton’s.”
“Whatever, man. I’m just trying to look out for my brother’s health,” Barrett says before sipping his beer. “Speaking of, that redhead in NOLA had a mouth like a fucking Hoover. Goddamn, some of the best head I’ve ever had. I should have gotten her phone number.”
“I wish you would have, then she could listen to your bullshit instead of me,” Braxton says.
Yeah, I think Barrett was right. Our sergeant at arms is one cranky asshole tonight.
“I’ve had enough of you fuckers for the week. I’m going to bed,” I say, grabbing my beer and my bags before heading down the hall to my room.
I toss my saddlebags in the corner and strip out of my dusty clothes, then go into the bathroom and turn on the shower as hot as I can stand it.
It was fucking sweltering riding down to New Orleans, up to Michigan, then back to Shine, and I desperately need to wash the road dirt off me and soothe my aching muscles.
As rough as the trip was at certain times, I wouldn’t change it for the world. I fucking love my brothers and the life I’ve built in Shine—even when I want to knock their skulls together.
I step under the steaming-hot water and exhale a deep breath.
It’s good to be home. That thought brings me to the house, and straight to Cece.
We had a moment the other day. I was so close to crossing the few inches of space between us and taking her mouth in a kiss.
And there was no doubt that she would have let me.
There are plenty of reasons why starting something with her is a bad idea, but fuck, they were the furthest thing from my mind in that moment.
Then she ran out, and I left for a run the next morning.
We’ve texted a couple times since I’ve been gone, but neither of us has brought up the almost kiss.
I sent her a picture of the sunset over the Mississippi River, and she sent me a picture of some chocolaty dessert that she made.
It made me feel fucking good that she was in my kitchen when I wasn’t there.
Knowing she’s in the space that I created for her, doing something she loves… I don’t know. It fills me with pride.
When I get out of the shower, I pull on a pair of shorts and collapse onto my bed, sipping the beer I brought in here earlier. My phone dings, and Cece’s name flashes on the notification.
Cece: Hey, happy you made it home safe.
Me: Fucking relieved to be back without murdering one of my brothers.
Cece: Was the road wearing you thin?
Me: It was wearing all of us thin. Maybe except Barrett. Hopefully I’m not digging a grave for him in the morning.
Cece: I was going to ask, as long as you’re not burying any bodies, if you had plans tomorrow?
That piques my interest.
Me: I’m free.
Cece: Remember when I said I was thinking about talking to Betsy? Well…I did and I’m supposed to bring her my first delivery tomorrow.
Me: That’s amazing, sweetheart. I’m so fucking proud of you.
A wide smile stretches across my face at her news. This is more than just baking for me and my brothers on occasion. This is a step that is going to get her somewhere.
Cece: I was hoping you could meet me at the house and take me over there. I can do it myself if you can’t make it, but it feels right having you with me.
Me: Cece, I wouldn’t miss it. I’ll see you in the morning.
Cece: Is seven too early? I know you just got back, so it’s really okay if you can’t.
Me: Will you have something warm ready for me when I get there?
It strikes me how suggestive that sounds, but it’s also not like I wouldn’t be open to it.
Cece: I’ll have a fresh batch of scones and danishes. I’ll let you have the first pick.
Me: Then seven is perfect. Good night, sweetheart.
Cece: Goodnight, Cash.
I set my alarm and put the phone on the charger next to my bed. Fuck, I’ve never been this damn excited to wake up early in the morning.
When I open the door to the house, the smell that greets me instantly makes my mouth water.
“Hi, honey, I’m home,” I call.
There’s some soft country music playing from inside the kitchen. I don’t want to scare her like I did the first time I came here when she was baking. Though that time she was blaring her metal and wouldn’t have been able to hear me over the music.
Walking into the kitchen, I spot Cece placing a couple more Danish into containers. She looks up at me with a wide grin.
“Hi. You’re just in time,” she says, nodding to the cooling rack on the counter behind her. “I tried a new recipe. Strawberry and clotted-cream turnovers. They should be cool enough to eat now.”
The sight of her loosens the knot in my chest that I didn’t even know was there.
Fuck, she is so damn pretty standing in the kitchen in a baby-blue sundress with her hair pulled up in a messy ponytail.
The urge to walk over to her and find out exactly what her smile tastes like is strong. But I hold myself back.
Instead, I walk to the counter and pick up one of the turnovers, taking a giant bite. The creaminess mixed with the strawberry electrifies my taste buds, and I moan.
“So good,” I say and take another bite.
When Cece turns, her cheeks are a rosy-pink color. “I’m glad you like it.”
Finishing the pastry, I head over to the sink to rinse my hands.
Cece’s light jasmine perfume tickles my nose, and I take a deep breath, inhaling her intoxicating scent.
We’ve gone longer than a week without seeing each other, but for some reason, being in her presence again is sensory overload.
The way she looks, the way she smells, the way I want to reach out and take her in my arms and feel her body pressed against mine, it’s affecting me in a way it never has before. But I don’t hate it.
“What can I help with?” I ask, wiping my hands on a towel.
“If you want to start taking these out to the truck”—she points to three giant bags on the counter—“I’ll finish packing up what’s left, and we can head over.”
“Sounds good, sweetheart.”
When we get to Cool Beans, the street is quiet. It’s still early, just after seven, but Cece wanted everything set up for when Betsy opens at eight.
She knocks on the front door, and Betsy walks over from behind the counter with a grin stretching across her face.
“I can’t tell you how excited I am to finally have your pastries in here, Cece,” she says when she opens the door. “I made plenty of room in the case because I know I’m going to sell out before the day is through.”
Cece and I walk in carrying a huge travel bag in each hand, packed to the brim with containers.
Betsy leads us behind the counter, and Cece begins loading all of her creations inside the large glass case.
“Do you guys want a coffee?” Betsy offers.
“I’d love an Americano with an extra shot. Thanks, Betsy.” I sure as shit need one this morning.
“I’ll have the same,” Cece replies. “I couldn’t sleep last night. Too excited.”
Betsy goes about making the drinks, and when they’re done, she hands me mine and Cece hers. “I put a little sprinkle of cinnamon on yours. Just how you like,” she tells Cece.
“Thank you.” Cece smiles and sips the coffee. “Perfect.”
“I left my checkbook in the office. I’ll be right back,” Betsy says before she heads down the hallway.