Chapter Twenty-Five
Ayda
Drew’s comment had made me smile. So much that I found myself working diligently with a curl to my lips.
I’d just made a double brew of coffee when Kenny turned up with a trunk full of groceries on top of the list I’d given him.
It took almost as long to unload them as it did to get the biscuits started.
The kitchen was a full industrial set up—stainless steel appliances, a walk in fridge, which, with absolutely no surprise, held beer rather than food.
It was practically unused aside from that and I wondered why.
There had to be at least one of the men and women in this space that could read a recipe and cook.
When I suggested that to Kenny, however, all I got was a hyena’s laugh and a snort. No explanation whatsoever.
I was more adept at cooking microwave burritos, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t cook.
It was more that I didn’t have time to. Well, that and the fact that it brought back memories of cooking with my mom when I was a kid.
It was what we did when I got home from school.
She and I would make Daddy his dinner. I made a mean chicken fried steak, and the best mashed potato in the state of Texas, according to the ribbon I had from the State Fair.
I’d fallen into a routine the moment I had the ingredients set out. It was a little different cooking for a small army rather than a family of four, but it made it more interesting. I didn’t think I’d ever used a full bag of flour in one go before.
Kenny, as much as he claimed to be helping, was just in the way.
After the conversation I’d had with Drew about it, I felt a slight discomfort at having him hanging around as much as he was.
He was a sweet kid, but if that was where he thought this friendship of ours was going, he was really very wrong and sadly disillusioned.
I didn’t have time for any of that, and even if I had, he was too young and not my type at all.
Whether I wanted to admit it or not, I was in my element.
I was comfortable, and that maternal side of me that appeared the moment I discovered I was the only parent my brother was going to have, was satisfied by taking care of this bunch of misfits.
I think every one of them stuck their head in through the door at some point, asking what the hell was going on before becoming complacent at the mention of food.
Apparently offering food made these mean dogs cuddly pooches.
Not that I would ever have said that out loud.
I held some back for Drew before dropping a huge pot of sausage gravy, biscuits and bacon on a pre-covered pool table.
Kenny had actually had the foresight to buy paper plates and plastic cutlery, saving me some work, and while the boys ate, I rushed around with coffee, orange juice, and milk, filling up glasses and taking care of them all until they were reclined and holding their bellies.
It was the most polite most of them had been to me since I started paying my debt, and I felt as though I’d accomplished something.
“I knew you were a keeper, kid,” Deeks said, offering a wink as he swiped his finger across the plate and scooped up the last of the gravy on it.
“Deeks, you’re gonna have people talking.”
“No, darlin’,” one of the guys next to him said, his skin barely visible under all the tattoos, but his smile changed him completely. “We all know that Deeks and food mean true love.”
“Fuck off, Stones.”
The tattooed man gave him the finger and a flashed grin before clasping his hands behind his head and sliding low in his chair, propping his feet up on the table. A knock of my hand on his heavy combat boots and he dropped them to the floor with a sheepish smile, making Deeks chuckle behind me.
“Does anyone need anything?” I asked, looking around, but it was a pointless question. A new calm had fallen over them. The normally rowdy conversation was now at a lull as they chatted among themselves.
Slipping away from the main room, I grabbed the plate I’d left in the warm oven for Drew, along with a fresh mug of coffee and headed toward his office, grinning as I knocked. I entered at his usual growl and lifted the plate I was holding.
“I come bearing gifts.”
His hair was still half wet from the shower he’d obviously taken while I was slaving away in the kitchen.
He looked up at me as I entered his room, both hands running back and forth over the top of his head as though I’d just interrupted him in the middle of something important and he was trying hard not to look pissed off about that.
His nostrils flared and he plastered a smile on his face, dropping his hands to the desk to move around some of the books that were in front of him.
It was yet another side to him I hadn’t expected to see.
He was actually taking something seriously.
“Um, yeah, breakfast. Sure. Let me just…” Shifting back in his chair, he worked faster to create some space. “Thanks. Anywhere you can fit it.”
I slipped farther into the room and kicked the door closed behind me, unsure if it was the right thing to do or not. He seemed like a private guy, so I’d gone with my gut, but the truth was, when it came to Drew, that didn’t always work out.
I managed to find a small space on the edge and pushed the plate, napkins and cutlery down beside it, while my eyes scanned the surface for a place to put his coffee. “Black, two sugars?”
“That’s right,” he said smoothly, looking up at me through curious eyes before his hands reached out to help me move the plate into a more secure spot.
I wasn’t sure whether to stay or go as I stood there. He seemed genuinely busy, but other than clean up the breakfast things and doing some laundry, he’d not given me a task for the day.
“Thanks for my car, by the way. That was really decent of you.”
Reaching up and taking his drink from my hands, Drew just nodded again in that same old way he seemed to do, as though he always had to do that in order to stall for time and find his thoughts, somehow.
He leaned back in his chair, sucking in a breath and blowing it back out almost right away, his eyes falling to the books in front of him.
“Don’t mention it. Your tires wouldn’t have been slashed if you hadn’t been here, and you wouldn’t have been here if it wasn’t for me, so…
” Lifting the mug to his mouth, his lips paused on the rim as he looked up at me, as though he was waiting for me to answer before he took a drink.
“Do you realize how often you take the blame for things completely out of your power?” I asked, moving to the couch and slowly sinking down into it.
He paid me no mind as I moved, his eyes back on the books, not so much as flashing up at me again. I was starting to feel a little bit like a hindrance. Wasn’t that just a ridiculous notion when I was there to repay a debt to not just him, but the whole pack?
Taking a slow sip of his drink, he kept the mug close to his mouth when he finally answered. “There’s a huge difference between taking responsibility and taking the blame.”
“Okay.” I clasped my hands together, my heels pulling back and the toes of my shoes slapping together. “You take responsibility for things out of your power. This now leaves me feeling more indebted to you.”
This time I was the one that dropped my eyes to the stained carpet beneath my feet and I found myself unsure of what I was looking at.
I made a mental note to rent out a carpet steamer and sanitize the place.
I wasn’t sure when I started thinking independently about this building and the men in it, but it had become a personal mission for me.
“That’s your problem. Not mine. If I thought you were even more in debt to me, I’d be the first to let you know, sweetheart. Rest assured of that.”
“Drew?”
He didn’t answer, instead just lifting his eyes away from the books and over to me.
“Do you realize that you can be both the easiest and the single most difficult person in the world to talk to? Some days, I find myself telling you shit I would never tell anyone, and then other times, you might as well be a damn brick wall.” I lifted my hand and showed him my palms, a universal peace sign.
“Not complaining… More explaining why I may appear more awkward sometimes than others. And now that I’ve made a complete ass of myself, I’m going to go and clean something. ”
Drew’s hands fell out in front of him, coming to rest and clasp together on the desk as the smirk on his face grew.
“What do you want me to talk about, Ayda? The weather? The stains on the carpet that you keep glaring at? Your cooking skills? Religion? Politics? Or how I found life on the inside?” He pushed his chin forward and lowered his voice. “What’s got you twitching?”
I don’t think I could have felt more of an asshole than I did in that moment. If I let myself dig too deeply, I honestly wasn’t sure what I would find. Was I starting to care about this place? Or was this some kind of Stockholm syndrome? I honestly didn’t know anymore.
“I’m sorry. I’m just chatty this morning. What would you like me to do today? Other than clean the kitchen and the—”
I didn’t get a chance to finish the last of my sentence. There was a knock on the door, and before Drew could so much as tell them to come in, Slater was already there, head firmly around the door and looking more disturbed than I thought he was capable of.
“Drew, we got trouble, man.”
It was as though the word trouble was all he needed to hear for Drew’s face to fall flat and for him to rise.
“What kind of trouble?” he asked Slater as he stepped around the desk in two quick strides.
Before Slater even had a chance to answer, the heavy boots of the other members could be heard running up and down the corridor in one giant stampede, and my head snapped to the noise coming from the window outside—the sound of what seemed like a thousand motorcycles pulling up outside the building we were currently holed up in.
“Oh shiiiit!” He growled, turning back to look at me. “Ayda…”
I didn’t need to be told twice. I’d seen the worry there and just nodded. “Go. I’ll be fine.”
I wasn’t sure that was the truth, but it felt like the right thing to say.
If this was something he needed to deal with, the last thing he needed to be doing was worrying about me.
He was pushing past Slater before I could so much as blink, and as stunned as I was, and as eager as Slater was to follow, his eyes landed on me.
“It’s gonna be safer to wait in the bar.”
Then he was gone, almost as swiftly as his friend had left, the thunderous noise making the walls of the building tremble and pushing me to my feet with a sense of desperation I’d never encountered before.