13. Ellis
THIRTEEN
ELLIS
“Knock, knock,” I say as I open the front door and step into Atlas’s house.
“Why bother saying it if you aren’t gonna do it?” the man himself asks with a pointed glare.
“Be nice!” Nora hisses, smacking the back of her hand lightly against his stomach.
Atlas gives her a befuddled look. “I am being nice, Pip.”
She heaves out a long-suffering sigh. “Agree to disagree, my love.”
“Y’all are so damn cute.” I extend my arms outward, lifting the foil-covered baking sheet, still warm from the oven. “Made garlic butter cheese bombs… from scratch, mind you.”
“Oh, that sounds amazing.” Nora grabs the tray and bustles into the kitchen. “They will go perfect with my lasagna. I told Scarlet to bring dessert.”
Internally, I cringe, thinking of the shitshow dessert caused when we babysat last weekend.
We’ve texted a few times since then, mostly me checking in to make sure she’s safe. Swear to god, getting anything out of her is like pulling teeth. She’s all one-word responses, and I’ve about had it.
Worrying about Scarlet Armstrong is the last way I want to spend my time, and yet, it’s all I seem to do.
“Hopefully she brings a good fucking attitude.” Atlas crosses his arms, looking as grumpy as ever. I can only imagine how much it chaps his ass that Nora and Scarlet are best friends.
“Amen to that.” I nudge him with my elbow. “Now, where’s my dude?”
“You need to settle down and have your own,” Nora says. At the same time, Atlas tells me he's in his walker in the living room.
I ignore both of them and make a beeline straight to where James is playing on the rug. “E!” he babbles and I hoist him up into my arms. “E!”
“Holy shit! Did you guys hear that?” I whisper shout as he snuggles into me.
Nora laughs. “He’s just babbling.”
“No way.” I blow a raspberry against his neck. “My dude said my name.”
“The hell he did,” Atlas mutters.
“He definitely did.” I cuddle him closer. “Smartest baby in the world, aren’t you?”
“He is,” Atlas agrees, scowling. “Gets it from his mama.” Atlas might as well have cartoon heart eyes as he talks about Nora.
The same cannot be said when he turns back to me. “But I promise you, my kid did not say your name before mama or dada.”
“Whatever you need to tell yourself, man.” I move James to my other hip. He may be a tiny thing, but he’s sturdy as hell. “You gonna have some lasagna tonight?” I ask, using the dumb, dopey baby voice he loves so much.
He nods his head, like he’s agreeing with me.
Nora pipes in, “I made him some green beans, too. They're his favorite.”
“I bet they are. Your green beans are the best. But judging from the delicious scent wafting in from the kitchen, your lasagna might knock them from the top slot.”
Atlas scoffs. “Quit buttering up my bride.” He’s such a bear when it comes to Nora. But I can’t say I blame him, I would be too if I had a woman like her by my side.
“Hey, I'm just calling it like it is, man,” I offer with an unapologetic shrug.
“Maybe she's right. Maybe you do need to settle down. Get you a woman that can cook. Have a kid or two.”
“I'm not in any rush.” I say as James wiggles in my hold. I set him back down on the rug, steadying him with a hand hovering behind his back as he plops down onto his bottom.
“We’re just saying,” Nora volleys back with a smile.
“Also, I’m a damn good cook all on my own, thank you very much.” It’s not much in the way of a comeback, but it is very fucking true.
I never told anyone, but I briefly contemplated culinary school after high school. But I’m a simple guy, and I know beyond the shadow of a doubt, preparing food for strangers in some fancy restaurant would rob me of any joy being in the kitchen may bring.
Atlas holds up his hands in surrender, but before anyone can say anything else, the front door bangs open, and the woman I’ve been unwillingly losing sleep over barges in like she owns the place.
She's still dressed in her work clothes, pink scrubs she has no business looking so damn fine in, holding a store-bought pie out in front of her like a peace offering.
“Sorry I’m late,” she says, rushing into the kitchen to set the pie on the bar. “Traffic was a nightmare. Work was a nightmare. Everything’s—” She catches herself at the last minute. “Sorry.”
“You’re not late, Scar,” Nora replies, as she walks back into the kitchen. “You’re right on time. Is everything okay?”
She is most definitely late, but I guess I’ll give her a pass.
Scarlet smiles but doesn’t reach her eyes. “Just one of those days.”
“What flavor pie?” I ask, my nose wrinkling as I take in the box.
“I… I have no clue. Apple, maybe?” She cringes, and I roll my eyes.
But ever the peacekeeper—at least for tonight—I keep my thoughts to myself. I know she has a lot on her plate right now, but damn, she could’ve put in a little effort here.
“Peach.” Atlas glances down at the label as he stalks into the kitchen.
“Could be worse, I guess.” I glance back over my shoulder at James. He’s managed to maneuver himself onto his belly and is trying to inchworm his way across the living room.
“Sorry to disappoint, Officer Jackass.” Her comeback lacks its usual bite, and I don’t like it. Not one fucking bit.
So, I do what I do best, I push.
“It’s all good, Scar.” I keep my voice light. “Our expectations weren’t terribly high.”
“Of course they weren’t.” She shrugs her purse off her shoulder and heads into the living room, no doubt in search of James. “Hey there, my little angel.”
He smiles and grabs her pant leg, pulling himself to standing.
Scarlet doesn’t hesitate, bending at the waist to pick him up. “You don’t think I’m a disappointment, do you?”
He lays his head on her shoulder.
“That’s because you’re the best boy in the whole word.”
“None of us think that,” Nora says.
Scarlet snorts. “You don’t think that, and I love you for it. But they”—she nods her head toward Atlas and me—“do.”
“No they don’t,” Nora insists. “Right guys?” She narrows her eyes, staring down Atlas, until he gives a noncommittal grunt.
She turns her steely gaze my way, but Scarlet pipes up before I can think of anything to say.
“Don’t waste your breath. We all know how Ellis feels about me.”
She sounds… almost sad, and fuck if I don’t hate it. We banter, it’s our thing, but right now, she’s just sounds… defeated.
Time for a subject change. “Did I tell y’all about my new job?”
“Sure didn’t,” Atlas says.
“Congrats, Ellis,” Nora enthuses, talking over her fiancé. “Tell us everything.”
“It’s, uh, security.” I rub at the back of my neck. “With a local motorcycle club.”
“Like… Sons of Anarchy?” Scarlet scrunches her nose.
“No.” I laugh under my breath. “Not even a little.”
“Then like what?” She tilts her head to the right, studying me. “From cop to MC seems like…” she trails off, and I just know some bullshit’s about to come out of her mouth. So, color me surprised when she says, “A big change.”
“It is.” I shrug. “But it’s not.”
Scarlet laughs, and I swear I feel it in my gut. “Explain, please. I’m trying to understand you being unemployed for so long—”
“Not that long,” I grumble.
“Only to start working for a motorcycle club.”
I don’t respond right away, mostly because I’m not entirely sure what to say. In a way, she’s right. I’ve technically been unemployed for a long time, and while I played it cool, it fucking ate at me.
For the better part of the last year, I’ve felt useless, aimless. Like I’m a dinghy drifting at sea. I knew I wanted to help people, but didn’t know how.
And sure, I could’ve gone out and gotten a job just about anywhere, but I want to do something that matters.
So, I used the money my dad and his parents left me to get by, and lucky me, it barely made a dent in it.
“You actually know my new boss,” I tell Scarlet.
“Do I?” She shifts James to her other hip. “Who?”
“Silas,” I offer up the two syllables with a shit-eating grin.
“Lovely.” Her tone implies it’s anything but.
“Anyone wanna explain?” Nora asks, crossing her arms.
“Scarlet tried to pick him up at The Creek, and he turned her down.”
“That’s not… I didn’t—” She blows out a hard breath.
And I decide I might as well strike while the iron’s hot, so to speak. “Oh, you so did.”
“Since when is asking if a seat’s taken an invitation to fuck?” She kisses the top of James’s head and sets him back down on the rug.
I shrug. “Don’t shoot the messenger, Princess.”
“A lot of words to say you discuss my sex-life with strangers in a bar.” She crosses her arms over her chest.
“You fucking wish.” I force a laugh, because damn if her words don’t hit a little too close to home.
“I’m just saying…” she singsongs.
I start to fire back at her, but I force myself to rein it in with control I, frankly, didn’t know I possessed.
The last thing I want to do is ruin Nora’s carefully planned dinner.
But Scarlet’s like a siren, only instead of seductively luring me to my death, she incites ill-timed boners and a shit ton of anger.
The woman’s a hellacious mix of my every wet dream come to life and walking, talking rage bait.
And I’m the idiot that falls for it, hook, line, and sinker. Every. Fucking. Time.
God only knows how many times I’ve jerked off to thoughts of her over the last week. I’m confused, testy, horny, and, honestly, just on fucking edge. Add in worrying over her safety, too, and yeah, I’m a mess and maybe looking for a fight.
“Well don’t,” I huff, sounding like a put-out toddler.
“Can’t stop me.” She’s driving me up the wall, but I can’t deny seeing the spark back in her eyes and hearing the sass in her voice is doing something to me. Which is dumb.
“Swear to god, Scar.”
She brushes past me, not bothering to reply, as she plops down on the couch, finally relaxing. “Everything smells so good, Nora.”
“Kiss ass,” I mutter, like I didn’t say the same thing to Nora when I walked in. But Nora deserves the praise. It took her a while to warm up to cooking after the hell Atlas’s dad put her through, but now that she’s come into her own, she truly is a goddess in the kitchen.