Chapter Five #2
“Mornin’.” Chef’s low, raspy morning voice makes me jump and I spin to find him on the couch, elbows resting on his knees, a blanket scrunched up behind him.
My brows pull in as I take in his scruff and crumpled t-shirt. “Did you sleep out here last night?”
He scrubs a hand down his face, “My bed was wet. And smelled like piss.”
My brain freezes for a moment before a wheeze escapes my body followed by a bark of laughter.
The look on Chef’s face makes it worse and hysterical laughter bubbles out of me, so much so that my legs give out and I slowly, like cold spaghetti, collapse onto the floor, thighs pressed together so I don't wee myself. Or let out a fart.
“I just can't figure out how the fuck it got there,” Chef mutters to himself but I can barely hear him over my own laughter. “I’m glad you find this shit funny,” he grumbles.
And I do. I do find this shit so hilariously funny, I have tears streaming down my face and I can’t breathe properly.
I try to take a deep breath but picturing Chef lying in a pissy bed sets me off again.
He mutters something as he steps over my prone body, and I cannot find it in me to care for what it was because my abs and cheeks hurt.
Holy shit, I have not laughed like this in forever, and I know who I have to thank for that.
I wait for the giggles to subside, before testing out my body strength. Legs are feeling good enough to hold me, so I roll onto my front, hands and knees and slowly push myself up. What a workout first thing in the morning.
“Oh, I’m glad to see you’ve recovered,” Chef says sarcastically from his position leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his broad chest, his favorite ball cap on his head.
“It was probably a cat?” I ask, trying to make him feel better, but I know for a fact Damian is behind this. He probably made Barbara pee on it.
Trying not to burst into giggles, I wipe my cheeks, and make my way to the door. “I’m heading to the clubhouse for breakfast.”
“Sounds good, I’ll walk you. Dex has called Church so I’m guessing he has some new information.”
I nod and head out the door, Chef following behind.
Warmth hovers at my lower back and I just know his hand is there.
That is how we used to leave rooms, his hand on my lower back.
Now it hangs in the air, not making contact, but the warmth is there.
I push all the feelings that have bubbled up back down.
I’m older and slightly wiser now. It's just something Chef does, it doesn't mean anything.
“So, I don’t actually know what you do out here, in Adonner. You used to work at the garage with Rhodie,” I say, trying to make small talk to ignore the pang I had in my chest at the familiarity of being with Chef.
Maybe I made a mistake asking to be friends, it might have been easier had I stayed mad at him. But, that’s not me. My mom could attest to that. I have never been able to hold a grudge, not like my little sister. Ever since Chef and I broke up she’s been scheming how to get back at him.
Chef moves to keep pace with me, not that it’s hard with his long, athletic legs. “Flack bought the old, closed down garage in town. I work there with him. TumTum is the head chef at the BBQ Shack, and Damian part-time manages that place during the day, and manages the dive bar at night.”
“Wow. What does everyone else do?” I ask, impressed.
“Justice helps run the market gardens next door, that’s where the freed Keep who didn’t have families to reconnect with went.
They live over there and run their own business.
Justice helps them with whatever they need help with.
I think initially they tried to bring him up to speed with the tech stuff, but, well, he wasn't really into it and he’s so good with the survivors over there.
” He kicks a rock off the path. “Your uncles still run their gator tours and rehabilitation, that’s in those big barn sheds over there.
Sniper looks after all the paperwork and slides into whichever business needs hands on, and Dex does whatever MC Prez’s do.
Oh and Theo and Jay work as geek contractors.
” He huffs out a chuckle and I join him.
“If Chewy pierced my dick I wouldn't be hanging around.”
“Better the devil you know, I guess,” Chef says, peeking at me then looking away quickly.
“Ask.”
“What?”
“Ask what you were gonna ask.”
He gives me a funny look, before shaking his head. “You know me too well, babe.” I shrug, not answering. He takes a deep breath, “So, ah, the guy you mentioned last night, the one who -” he waves his hand in the air.
“The one who showed me what sex should be like?” I kindly offer, trying to hide my shit-eating grin.
“Yeah, ah, him,” he clears his throat, “So, ah, is he your boyfriend?”
I could say yes, shut this down really fast. But, well, lying to Chef doesn't feel right. “No. He’s just a guy I had a connection with for a while.”
“Oh, right. Cool.” Chef nods his head, taking in the information. “He treated you well, then?”
“Better than anyone else.” Chef winces and I try not to feel bad.
I really do, but this friends stuff is hard, especially one day in.
“He’s a really nice guy but it just wasn't the right time for us.” I add, trying to soften the blow.
Why? I don’t know. Or I do know, and I’m ignoring it.
“Besides, I’m sure you’ve had your fair share of women since you came here.
Fresh meat and all,” I say flippantly, ignoring my stomach flipping at the thought.
“None. Ever,” he says with so much conviction it makes my gut clench. But I let that pass. There is no Chef and me anymore. We are friends. Strictly friends.
“Noted,” I reply, because what the hell else do I say?
I walk a little quicker, to try and get away from the awkwardness that is starting to settle between us, only slowing down when I catch sight of Damian out in front of the clubhouse in a rocking chair, a smirk on his face.
“Look at you, cher,” he coos. “Upright, functional…only a little feral this morning.” A grin slowly grows on his face as he looks over my shoulder at Chef. “You find somethin’ in your bed, brother?”
“What do you know?” Chef says through clenched teeth.
“Oh, bitta this, bitta that.” He waves his hand in the air as if he’s waving a fly away from his face.
I raise a brow, and utter one word. “Barbara?”
“Oh baby, I would never get Barbara to do my dirty work. My bebe is an angel on earth,” he whispers so Chef can’t hear.
“That is gross and thank you?”
He leans in close. “Cher, I planned ahead. Mattress protector and all. Only a little damage. I’ll go clean it up after Church, make it pretty for him.” He gives me a wink and I can’t help but laugh.
Patting his shoulder on the way past I make a note never to enter into a prank war with this man. Not if he’s willing to pee on a bed. Ew. Shoving open the clubhouse doors I enter into a cacophony of noise and smells and it feels just like home.