Chapter 8
Fiona
In those hazy moments between sleep and awake, I remembered Bash’s lips on mine. I allowed myself to indulge in the memory, recalling the taste and feel of him, unsure of whether it would happen again. It was a situation I had no way of navigating.
I wasn’t trying to play hard to get, but I also knew enough about life not to overthink a few kisses. Sex was clearly far more frequent and casual in the MC world, and I didn’t want to make a big deal out of something that could have simply happened out of habit for a guy like Bash.
Even though I had never been to the clubhouse, I could only imagine the type of women Bash was surrounded by on a regular basis.
At that point, we were basically strangers.
I was nothing more than his little sister’s new friend.
There is no point in making it a big deal and risking the one relationship I know is real—my friendship with Charlie.
With that thought in mind, I hopped out of bed and got the coffee machine going. As I stood in front of the machine, the methodic drips acted as a metronome for my racing mindset. I decided to push all thoughts of Bash out of my mind for the moment and focused instead on dinner at Guard and Cece’s.
I wasn’t exactly taught manners or proper guest etiquette, growing up, but I knew I would feel strange showing up empty-handed.
I didn’t care or know enough about wines to pick out a good one, so I decided I would bake a dessert to bring.
Looking at the clock, I started planning in my head.
If I went to the store soon, I would have enough time to make my famous cheesecake.
The coffee pot beeped, and I filled my favorite mug, topping it off with vanilla creamer.
Hypnotized by the first taste, I stood in my kitchen, unseeing as I gulped down that first cup.
My phone started beeping with message notifications, breaking me out of my reverie just in time for a refill.
Grabbing it, I saw a text from Match asking me if I wanted to swing by the comic book shop with him.
I replied quickly, letting him know I couldn’t make it because I needed to go to the store, and within a minute, he replied that he would take me.
I smiled, genuinely enjoying my time with Match.
I also wanted to make sure he was okay with me blowing up his spot the night before.
I knew it was private, but I was just so freaking proud of him.
I couldn’t keep it to myself. He really was incredibly talented.
After a quick shower, I was dressed and making a list before triple-checking my cabinets to make sure I didn’t miss anything.
I got a text that Match was downstairs, and when I left the building, I was surprised to see him in a pickup truck rather than on his bike.
I assumed we would have taken my car, so that was a pleasant surprise.
“So what are we getting? More stuff for lasagna?” he asked, looking hopeful. I laughed at his childlike grin before responding.
“I was going to make a cheesecake to bring to Guard and Cece’s tonight, but since you’re helping me, why don’t you pick a meal, and I’ll make you a casserole so you have food for the whole weekend.”
“Aw, you don’t have to do that,” he said, his cheeks turning pink.
“It’s not a problem. Once I’m in the kitchen, it is easy to multitask. You can stay and keep me company while I cook.”
“Do you know how to make mac and cheese? Like the homemade kind in the oven, not from the mix?” he asked me, his voice hesitant.
“Yeah, I can handle that. Alright, c’mon. We’ve got a shit ton of cheese to buy!” I cheered as he parked in the supermarket lot.
He shook his head at me before hopping down and slowly following me into the market. He grabbed a cart and trailed behind me as I tossed different items into it. When it was time to check out, I was shocked when Match pushed me away so he could pay for everything.
“It’s on the club. Bash’s orders,” he said, which confused me even more. But I kept silent, not wanting to insult anyone and knowing that, technically, Bash was Match’s boss—at least, within the club hierarchy.
We made it back to my apartment, and Match carried all of the groceries up himself, ignoring my offers to help. Once we unloaded all the ingredients, he planted himself at the kitchen table, eyeing the pile of food.
“So, dinner with the parents. That’s a big step,” he said, causing me to whip around with a speed I didn’t know I was capable of.
“What’s that supposed to mean? Cece and Charlie were the ones who invited me,” I said, trying to imbue as much authority into my voice as I could.
“Okay, then explain why Bash has been around so much?” he asked, waggling his eyebrows at me.
“He’s just being protective,” I muttered, uncomfortable about the turn in conversation.
“You really don’t see it, do you? Damn, this is gonna be pretty funny.
Gonna enjoy watching you and Bash dance around each other,” he said, reaching for the bag of shredded cheese I had just opened.
I smacked his hand away before going to my fridge and pulling out supplies.
I quickly whipped together turkey sandwiches for both of us and slid a plate over to him before grabbing a bag of chips from the pantry.
Match decided to have mercy on me, and the rest of the morning went by quickly. He watched me cook as we talked about comics and the potential for becoming a tattoo apprentice.
“You promise you’re not mad at me?” I asked, looking up from the layer of noodles and cheese I was dumping in the Pyrex.
“Nah, it worked out. It’s always been a dream of mine to learn how to tattoo. You helped me get closer to that. So, thank you. But you’re still annoying,” he tacked on. I couldn’t help but laugh.
Once everything was in the oven, my phone started ringing, and I picked it up once Charlie’s name flashed across my screen.
“Hey!” I answered as I went around putting ingredients away.
“Ew, why do you sound so chipper? It’s so early,” Charlie moaned on the other line. Eyeing the clock, I laughed.
“It’s after 1 p.m. What shenanigans did you get up to last night?” I couldn’t help but ask.
“Nothing interesting. Anyway, I was calling to see what time you wanted me to pick you up for dinner, but if you keep making fun of me, I’ll make you walk,” she threatened.
“Well, it’s a good thing Bash is driving, then, huh?” I replied as I squished the phone between my ear and shoulder, reaching up to put the sugar back in the cabinet.
“What do you mean, Bash is taking you?” she asked, her voice suddenly much clearer. I was confused and unsure what to say, so I answered honestly.
“Last night before he left, he said he would pick me up after work. He said he would be at the garage until four today. I just assumed you would be with him,” I said, scowling at Match, who was giving me a knowing look.
“I see. Well, it looks like I’m swinging by the garage today,” she muttered, but before I could protest, I heard a knocking in the background.
“Gotta go. See you tonight, Feefee!” she said in an obnoxious voice.
“Please don’t call me that. It sounds like a name for a poodle or something equally ridiculous,” I said, rolling my eyes.
“Yep, I kinda like it. Anyway, time to yell at big bro. Talk soon!” She disconnected, and I stared at the phone in my hand.
“Told ya,” Match muttered, and I rolled my eyes before chucking a piece of cheddar at him.
I pulled the cheesecake out and put it in the fridge to settle before pulling the tray of mac and cheese out to cool. Match’s eyes rounded at the sight of it, and I was happy that I had gone overboard and stuffed it with ground beef and broccoli, topping it off with extra cheese and breadcrumbs.
When it had stopped bubbling, it was about time for me to get ready for dinner. I packed up the dish for Match and shooed him out of my apartment with a demand that he call me after he met with the club tattoo artist.
Finally, alone in my apartment, panic started to rise in me.
What do I wear? I wasn’t asked out to dinner often and rarely to a person’s house.
My wardrobe was rather bisected; I had my work clothes and then my home clothes.
There wasn’t much in between. Even my nicest lounge set wasn’t really proper going-out attire, but I didn’t think showing up in slacks and a blouse was any better.
I wound up neck-deep in my closet, rummaging around the few items I had bought on a whim but never worn.
Finding a pair of plain black jeans, I pulled them on and gave a sigh of relief when they buttoned without issue.
I paired them with a white T-shirt and an olive green cardigan.
It was basic but put together. I completed the ensemble with some small gold earrings and started the tedious process of styling my hair down.
Slipping on black ankle boots, I took a final glance at my appearance. I looked different, somehow both relaxed but polished. The green in my sweater made my hair pop, and the small bit of blush and gloss I used gave a bit of life to my typically washed-out face.
At the last minute, I grabbed the only belt I had, thinking the subtle gold buckle would look cute with my earrings.
It tied the whole look together, and I felt confident and ready to go.
Removing the cake from the fridge, I put it into an insulated bag, then sat fully dressed in my living room, waiting for Bash.
At 4:45, my phone beeped with a text, letting me know he was a few minutes away.
I locked up my apartment and carried the cake downstairs.
Through the window on the entrance, I saw when his large SUV pulled in.
Two short honks rang out as I left the building, then the passenger door opened.
Charlie hopped down and ran over to me, grabbing the bag before hustling me into the back seat.
“Hey! You look so cute!” she squealed before continuing, “What did you make?” she asked once we were both in the car.