11. Maddox
11
MADDOX
When the pain subsides enough for me to function, I peer through the kitchen door to see who interrupted us. The woman sitting at the counter is familiar—dark hair with caramel highlights, an easy smile that doesn’t quite reach her watchful eyes. Evie Cross, formerly Evie Ashbourne, if the town gossip is accurate. The woman who landed all three Cross brothers.
She’s chatting with Rowan like they’re old friends, though I know they’ve never met. That’s Evie’s talent—making everyone feel instantly comfortable, like they’ve known her forever. It worked on the Cross brothers. Worked on the entire town.
I can hear snippets of their conversation as I approach.
“—and I told them absolutely not, we’re not having a fourth birthday party with actual wolves,” Evie is saying, laughing.
Rowan’s expression is genuinely amused. “Your husbands suggested real wolves for a child’s birthday?”
“Only Zane. He thinks everything is better with ‘authentic experiences.’” Evie makes air quotes. “The other two have more sense.” She glances up as I emerge from the kitchen. “Speaking of troublemakers. Hey, Maddox.”
“Evie.” I slide behind the counter, trying not to wince at the lingering ache between my legs. “What brings you to our humble establishment?”
“Heard the food was amazing.” Her knowing smile suggests she’s heard more than that. “Thought I’d introduce myself to the newest addition to our town.”
The way she emphasizes “newest addition” makes me wonder exactly what she knows. Wolf Pike has a way of collecting refugees—Evie was one herself before the Cross brothers claimed her.
“Well, you’ve met our chef.” I rest a hand on Rowan’s shoulder, feeling her tense under my touch. “Baker extraordinaire and destroyer of custom motorcycles.”
“Maddox,” Rowan warns, shrugging off my hand.
Evie’s eyes flick between us, missing nothing. “I heard about the bikes. Tough break.” Her smile widens. “Though it seems to have worked out for everyone involved.”
There’s a weight to her words that makes me study her more carefully. Evie’s always been perceptive—maybe too perceptive for comfort.
“Can I get you anything else?” Rowan asks, clearly eager to escape the conversation.
“Just the check. I need to pick up the girls from school.” Evie reaches for her purse. “But I’ll definitely be back. Maybe with the family next time.”
As she pays, she leans across the counter toward Rowan. “The Kane brothers are good men. My husbands swear by it,” she says softly, though not softly enough that I can’t hear. “Complicated, but good. Just like mine.”
Rowan doesn’t respond, but the flush creeping up her neck speaks volumes.
After Evie leaves, Rowan refuses to look at me, focusing instead on aggressively wiping down already-clean counters.
“She seems nice,” I offer, just to break the silence.
“She has three husbands,” Rowan mutters.
“Wolf Pike’s progressive that way.” I move closer, gratified when she backs up a step. Still affected by our interrupted moment, then.
“Is everyone in this town in some kind of bizarre relationship?” She scrubs harder at an imaginary stain.
“Not everyone.” I lean against the counter, watching her. “Just the interesting ones.”
That earns me a glare. “I’m not interested in being interesting.”
“Too late for that, sweetheart.” I reach out to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, my fingers lingering against her cheek. “You were interesting the moment you took out three bikes with one reverse.”
She slaps my hand away, but not before I feel the heat in her skin. “You should get back to the garage. I’m sure your brothers need you.”
“Trying to get rid of me?”
“Succeeding, I hope.”
I laugh, untying my apron. “Fine. I’ll let you catch your breath. But this conversation isn’t over.”
“Yes, it is.” She turns away, but not before I catch the slight curve of her lips.
“Whatever you say, princess.” I grab my jacket, heading for the door. “See you tomorrow.”
“I thought Ryder was scheduled for tomorrow?”
I glance back, grinning. “Oh, he’ll be here, but I’ll be here too. Hope you like coffee because you’re getting a lot more of it.”
The thrown dish towel misses my head by inches as I duck toward the door, laughing.
She’s already under my skin, this mysterious baker with her sharp tongue and curved hips. But from the way she responded to me today—all fire and reluctant heat—I’d bet good money I’m getting under hers too.
I’m halfway to the door when I stop, turning back toward her. “Actually, I’ve got a better idea.”
She eyes me suspiciously, cloth in hand like she might throw another one. “What?”
“There’s racing tonight. The underground track just outside town.”
“Racing?” Her eyebrow arches in a way that makes me want to bite it. “As in, motorcycle racing?”
“Sometimes bikes, sometimes cars.” I lean against the doorframe, studying her reaction. “It’s where the town really comes alive on Friday nights. Everyone who matters shows up.”
“And you think I want to go because…?” But there’s something in her eyes—a flicker of interest she can’t quite hide.
“Because you’ve been in Wolf Pike for a week and haven’t done anything but work and sleep.” I take a step toward her. “You need to integrate, princess. Can’t be an island forever.”
“I’m not trying to be an island,” she says, but the defensiveness in her voice tells me I’ve hit a nerve. “I’m trying to pay off a debt so I can focus on my bakery.”
“One night off won’t change that.” I keep my tone casual despite how much I suddenly want her to say yes. “Besides, how else will you meet potential customers? Everyone important comes to the track.”
She seems to consider this, weighing the practicality of networking against her obvious desire to refuse me on principle.
“You’re not riding with Ryder this time,” I add, knowing exactly which buttons to push. “You’d be on my bike.”
Her eyes snap to mine. “What makes you think I’d want that after what just happened?”
I spread my hands in mock surrender. “Look, I crossed a line. I admit it. Let me make it up to you.”
“By taking me to illegal street races?” The sarcasm drips from her voice, but her lips twitch toward a smile.
“They’re not illegal if the town sheriff’s watching from the stands,” I counter. “Call it a cultural experience. Local color.”
She turns away, resuming her aggressive cleaning. For a moment, I think she’s going to refuse.
“So…” I ask when she’s been quiet for too long.
“The answer is no. After what you pulled in the kitchen, you think I’m just going to hop on your bike and pretend everything’s fine?”
Ouch.
I step closer, lowering my voice. “Tell me what it’ll take to make it up to you. I’m a man who pays for his sins.”
She considers this for a moment, and then a small, triumphant smile appears. “I need something from the store. Bathroom cleaner. The sink’s getting gross.”
“Seriously? I gave you an open check, and you choose bathroom cleaner?”
“You want forgiveness for being a dick? Bathroom cleaner. The good kind with bleach.”
I can’t help laughing. “You drive a hard bargain, Callahan.”
“Take it or leave it.”
“I’ll get your cleaning supplies, princess.” I walk backward toward the door. “But you better be ready at eight sharp. I don’t wait for anyone.”
A genuine smile finally breaks through her reserve. “We’ll see about that.”
The bell above the door chimes again as I step out into the afternoon sunshine, feeling lighter than I should after being kneed in the balls. The afternoon stretches ahead of me—time to check in at the garage, grab Rowan’s cleaning supplies, and maybe take a ride out to the track to make sure everything’s set for tonight.
For someone who claims she’s not interested in being interesting, Rowan Callahan is already the most fascinating thing in Wolf Pike. And tonight, I get her all to myself.
At least, until my brothers find out I’ve invited her to the races.