11. Chapter Ten
Chapter Ten
Trix
I set six alarms this morning, not wanting to be late again, which I wasn't. Instead, I'm here early, so early in fact that the sun was only just coming up when I started walking here earlier.
I've spent the last hour cleaning down the kitchen, scrubbing every inch of the place.
Checking the time on my phone, I breathe a sigh of relief when I see it's almost eight. Honey should be in today, since she told me now I'm working here, she'll only be in on Tuesdays, Thursdays and occasionally the weekends.
I'll be glad to have her here because yesterday was stressful when it came to making food for everyone.
The drinks and the cleaning—albeit tiring—is the easy part. Making food, however? That's not my forte.
There may be a cookbook with step by step instructions on the kitchen side, but I've never been good at following those.
Thankfully, Luxe was still insistent on loitering around, so he helped me with the large pasta bake I had to make.
Glancing around at the sparkling surfaces, I smile, feeling triumphant.
Pushing the door open to peek into the bar area, I see it's still empty and clean from last night, and I sigh in relief.
Grabbing a rag and spray bottle, I leave the kitchen and make my way upstairs to the small living room. I figured I might as well keep myself busy with that while I have nothing else to do.
When I round the top of the stairs, I see a slim man with dark, auburn hair sitting in the corner, his gaze locked onto the TV in front of him.
As I hesitantly move up the last few steps, his eyes slowly move over to meet mine, and I offer him a hesitant smile.
"Sorry, I was coming up here to clean, but I can do that later if you'd prefer?"
A crease forms in the middle of his forehead which is covered with freckles, and his haunted, downturned eyes examine my face before moving back to the TV.
Unsure of what his lack of response means, I make a move to turn around and go back the way I came from, but then he speaks, extremely quietly, but loud enough for me to hear.
"You can stay."
An awkward silence fills the room as I start wiping down the small table, the only sound coming from the TV which might as well be on mute with how quiet it is.
While I'm wiping down the leather seats on the chairs, I glance up at the TV to see what he's watching, and when I spot the characters from my favorite show, my lips tug up into a smile.
"I love that show," I tell him, peeking back over at him.
His eyes dart to where I'm standing, but he just stares at me before turning his attention back to the screen.
Taking the hint he doesn't want to talk to me, I busy myself with wiping down the other chairs, then move to the large sofa that's placed beside the love seat he's occupying.
Kneeling on the cushions, I reach over the back of the sofa to spray the window ledge, then wipe it down.
Moving off of the sofa, I look at the TV and the unit it's sitting on, twisting my lips as I contemplate cleaning them or not.
Before I can come up with a solution, two thick vertical lines appear on the screen, freezing the image in place.
When I turn to the man next to me, he's already staring, and he dips his head toward the TV, motioning for me to move toward it.
"Thanks," I mutter. Quickly making my way across the space, I use the rag in my hand to wipe the screen, then spray the unit beneath it, wiping away the small layer of dust that's gathered.
Once I'm done, I tentatively move toward the stairs.
When I reach them, I look over my shoulder.
As if he can feel the weight of my eyes on his face, he turns to face me, and after a moment, his lips subtly quirk up.
Ambling down the stairs, I round the corner, gasping and slapping my hand against my chest when I see Reeve standing at the bottom.
He grins slyly, then spins around, leaving me frozen halfway up the staircase.
Taking a moment to calm my racing heart, I cautiously make my way down the remaining steps and find him sitting on one of the stools at the bar, knuckles rapping against the wood in a rhythmic pattern.
Slipping behind the bar, I meticulously scan the bottles on the shelves behind me, taking note of the few we're running low on, then I spin around and search the fridge under the bar, looking at the lack of beer bottles and soda cans.
I'll have to wait for Honey to get here so I can ask her where I need to go for refills. No one's informed me of that yet, and I don't want to wander around this place by myself.
"Did you walk here this morning?"
Reeve's gruff voice startles me, and I almost fall from where I'm crouched on the floor.
He's leaning over the small bar top, staring down at me with those pretty blue eyes I'm jealous of. But when I don't give him an answer, he raises his thick brows.
"Uh, yeah, I did," I tell him, slowly standing back up and fiddling with the hem of my shorts. "Why?"
He shrugs in response, his gaze leisurely spanning the length of my body.
Jesus. Trying to have a conversation with this man is like drawing blood from a stone.
Silence fills the room around us as he continues to watch me, eyes burning through my skin.
The man may be sinfully gorgeous, but he's also infuriating to be around with his short, clipped conversations, and silent observing stare.
Feeling awkward, I pull my phone from my pocket, spying multiple notifications from Liam, and my stomach turns as I unlock it.
Liam:
You didn't think to tell me you'd told Em you were working at the clubhouse?
I've been sat here for 10 minutes explaining everything to her
She's pissed I kept my almost non-existent relationship with my brother a secret from you both
I appreciate you not telling her everything though
Trix:
You're welcome.
Also, I have a favor to ask.
Liam:
Hit me with it
Trix:
Keep an eye on Em for me? I'm worried about her, something seems off.
He sends me a thumbs up in response and I quickly pocket my phone when I see the double doors of the bar opening.
Honey breezes in, a small, bald-headed man following behind her with a crooked smile on his face.
"Trix!" she calls out, lips stretched wide as she moves toward me with open arms. "You look at home back here."
Her arms wrap around me, and I awkwardly pat her back until she loosens her hold. Once she does, she turns to face the man now leaning against the bar beside Reeve.
"This is Mackie," she tells me.
He reluctantly drags his eyes away from Honey, to settle them on me.
"I've heard all about you already," he says, reaching out a large hand. "Pleasure to meet you."
"You too," I squeak, taking his hand and giving it a shake. Whirling around to face Honey, I point my thumb toward the shelves behind us. "We're running low on some bourbon and vodka, as well as beer and soda in the fridge. Where do I go to get more?"
"Oh, they're down in—"
"No," Reeve barks, cutting Honey off.
Frowning, I turn to face him, his scrutinizing eyes boring into mine.
"I'll sort it," he says as he slips off the stool and walks off to the kitchen.
"Well, that was rude," I mutter, shaking my head.
"Don't take it personally," Mackie says, sighing. "Reeve can come across like a prickly bastard to some, but he doesn't mean to."
Honey scoffs. "He definitely means to, and sometimes, it's unjust."
"He just has issues with trusting people," Mackie adds. "Especially new people who he doesn't know anything about."
I shrug, brushing it off.
Who cares what his opinion of me is?
I'm not here to make friends or tell people my life story.