Chapter 22Evan
Chapter Twenty-Two
EVAN
O f course he is.
Because why would the universe be in my favor?
“You okay with this?” Zeke asks me quietly as I walk him to the door.
“Yeah, we need to talk about some stuff anyway.” It was bound to happen eventually.
“I’m fucking pissed he went there with you. Everyone in the club knows that family is off-limits unless you ask. And he definitely didn’t ask permission to fuck around with someone’s sister.”
“I’m sorry that it feels like this was all happening behind your back. It wasn’t like that. This all just sort of… happened. And honestly, I don’t even know what is happening.”
Zeke releases a deep sigh. “I know. But that doesn’t mean I’m still not going to have his ass for going there. What? Don’t give me that look. Prez or not, he knows the rules. I’ll check in tomorrow, Ev. Call me if you need me. ” I hug him goodbye before shutting and locking the back door.
“Are you hungry?” I ask while walking back into the kitchen, seeing Cain sitting on one of the bar stools at my island.
“I could eat.” He grinned. “Like your place, babe. Don’t think I told you that when I was here before.”
“You didn’t, but thank you.” I smile as I put some potatoes in a pot of water on the stove. “I know it looks like a construction zone right now, but when I’m done, it’s going to be the Victorian gothic home of my dreams—whenever that is.” I laugh.
“Who's doing the work? I know most of the guys in town.”
“Ah, no one. I mean, not no one, obviously. It’s just me. Do you want a drink?”
“You have whiskey?”
“I think,” I say, setting down the package of ribeyes I just took out of the fridge, ready to head over to the bar cart to check before Cain holds up his hand.
“I got it, babe. It’s the least I can do since you’re cooking for me.” He pours three fingers worth of whiskey for himself and a glass of wine for me without even asking.
“Thank you,” I say, somewhat surprised, while taking the wine. I give him a questioning look because how did he know this is what I wanted?
“The bottle looked like you had set it out to drink soon.” I hate how observant he is because, damn if he isn’t right. “So, back to your place, you’re really doing all of this by yourself?”
Nodding my head, I say, “Yeah. I know it seems overly ambitious, and sometimes I want to pull my hair out and sell the place, but when one thing comes together, it makes it all worth it. Plus, when I’m done, I can say I did all the renovations myself. Cool, right?”
“Yeah, hellcat. That’s pretty fucking cool. If you ever need any help, let me know,” he says before taking a swig of his whiskey.
“I actually could use a recommendation for an electrician,” I tell him, turning my attention back to seasoning the steaks. “Sometimes the light switches turn on, and sometimes they don’t. I tried watching some electrical videos on how to fix it, but I’m kind of scared of electrocuting myself.”
“Brock. He used to do a lot of electrical work in the Army. I’ll talk to him tomorrow about stopping by.”
“That would be great! Do you know what he charges?”
“Hellcat, you aren’t paying him shit. If he needs to buy anything, the club will do it. We need to move some cash around anyway.”
“It’ll be a cold day in hell before you start paying for my stuff like that. I don’t care if you need to make it look like you have money going somewhere. I said I’d help you guys with whatever you need, but I’m paying for what needs to be done here.”
“We’ll talk about it later,” he responds, almost like he’s just letting me entertain the idea.
“Um… no, we won’t. Are you even listening to me?” I ask as he gets up off his bar stool and comes up from behind, wrapping his arms around me.
“Nope. I tune you out when you start spewing bullshit,” he rumbles in my ear.
His scent surrounds me, almost overpowering the garlic-infused oil I poured into the cast iron skillet. The smell of oak mixed with a hint of lavender invades my nose, wrapping me in comfort. All of my senses are heightened as his beard brushes against my neck, and his breath tickles my ear.
“Well, that’s rude.” I’m starting to lose my train of thought. I was getting mad at him. Why was I getting mad at him?
Oh, yeah.
“We’re not talking about this later. We’re going to talk about this now,” I reply while preparing the asparagus for the pan.
His deep sigh whispers across my neck as he pulls away. “Alright, little hellcat. We’ll talk about it now.”
I can’t help but feel anxious as he walks over to grab the open bottle of wine and a fifth of whiskey, bringing them to the island and topping off our drinks.
“I was a dick earlier. I had a lot to think about, and it messed with my head. I apologize. It’s not an excuse to treat you like you don’t exist. I won’t do it again.”
Hold, please, while I pick my jaw up off the floor. Two apologies in the same week? Maybe Hell really has frozen over.
“I like that you didn’t just lie down and take it. But, if you ever leave me stranded somewhere, making me ride bitch on the back of a brother's bike again, I’m going to take you over my knee and spank that ass ‘till you’re just about to come. Then I’m going to stop and not let you touch that pretty pussy until I say. Got me?”
You see, the thing about me is that when someone gets an attitude with me, I naturally have to match that, if not top it. Challenge accepted. “No, I don’t ‘got you,’” I say as I throw my hands up, using air quotes. “If you’re being a dick, I have every right to not stay, especially if you refuse to talk to me and abandon me.”
“I just said I won’t do it again,” he says, jaw clenched.
“We’ll see,” I snap before turning back to the stove to check on the potatoes. Seeing that they’re done, I drain and return to the pot to get the excess water out. That’s the trick to the perfect mashed potatoes—that and using a potato ricer. Trust me—it’s a game-changer. Lump-free every time.
“Woman,” he growls, trying to demand my attention.
“Don’t ‘woman’ me, Cain. I don’t even get what you want from me. You’re hot one second and cold the next. And honestly, it’s exhausting. I get you’re not the relationship guy, so why are you even here?”
“Because I can’t get you out of my fucking head,” he says, jaw tight, like finally admitting it out loud bothers him that much. “And believe me, I’ve tried.”
“Well, isn’t that just the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard?” I say with an eye roll. “Every girl wants to know someone is only with them because they want to forget about them but can’t. Get real. I understand this bothers you, but I’m not exactly sure how it’s my problem.” Maybe it’s because I can’t get you out of my head, either.
“Sorry I’m not giving you flowers and fucking chocolate, but this isn’t exactly a territory I’m used to being in.”
“Let me make it easy for you then. There is no flowers and chocolate territory for you to enter,” I say as I start plating up the steak, mashed potatoes, and grilled asparagus.
“There’s going to be my version of it. What does that look like? I don’t have a fucking clue. All I know is I can’t get you out of my head, and until then, you’re stuck with me.”
I pause while setting his plate down in front of him because, once again, he’s made me want to punch him in the face. “Are you seriously saying you want a relationship with me until I’m out of your head?”
“I’m still not really sure what I want, Evan. I just know that until you’re out of here,” he pauses as he taps a finger to his temple, “no one better touch you.”
“Are you high? Because it sounds more like an infatuation. You just need to get it out of your system. And unfortunately, what happened earlier was a fluke for me. I’m not a fling kind of girl. None of this is yours.”
“Damn, this is the best steak I’ve ever had. You always cook like this?” Cain says, finally taking his first bite. He doesn’t give me a chance to respond before he talks again, “Well, you’re in luck, little hellcat. Because all of you is, in fact, mine. I’m thinking I want to give this exclusive thing a shot. The thought of some pencil dick having his hands on you makes me want to murder someone,” he says as if it’s the simplest thing in the world.
“That’s it?”
“Yeah, hellcat. That’s it.”
Sighing as I set my fork down, I say, “I just don’t see how this is going to work. You’re used to club girls hanging off of you. You literally can have your pick of any girl you want. I don’t see you being exclusive. It’s not that I don’t trust you or anything; I just know you’re used to a certain way of life. I’m not in the business of making someone change who they are.”
“What if I want to change?” He’s looking me dead in the eyes now. “I don’t like bringing up past exploits, but it’s been a minute since I’ve even thought about being with a club girl. That shit you saw with Candy wasn’t what it seemed. Yeah, you saw her climb in my lap, but you didn’t hear me telling her to go find someone else. That I wasn’t interested.”
“Why would you do that?” I swallow, suddenly all too nervous that I am going to hear an answer that I really don’t want to hear. This is starting to seem a little too real now.
“Have you been listening to me? I know I’m speaking English. It’s because I can’t stop thinking about you. And I don’t know… something about being with another girl that wasn’t you just felt wrong.”
“But you haven’t even been with me!” I squeak out.
“I might not have had your pussy clenching my cock, but I liked it just fine when my fingers were buried in that sweet heat.” This man and his way with words.
“Is that my grand romantic gesture?” I ask, knowing my cheeks are now the same color as my wine.
“For now.” He smirks while taking another bite of steak.
Taking a bite of my own food, I start thinking all of this over.
Do I really want a relationship right now? Despite not having any friends, I still have a lot going on. I spend all of my free time working on my house.
And there’s the Storm drama. Because what the hell is up with him? I don’t know how to cut ties with a middleman like that, even if I wanted to. How do you find a new one and know if they have connections?
Can I trust what Cain says about wanting to try to be exclusive? But he also doesn’t know where this is going, so what does that even mean? I’m not about to be yanked around. The thought of him being with someone else makes me see red. I never considered myself a jealous person until I saw him with Candy.
“I can see the wheels turning over there. Want to share?” Cain says, snapping me out of the rabbit hole my thoughts were going down.
“It’s just been a long few weeks.”
“So this isn’t about you and me?”
Setting my fork down and leaning back against the barstool, I sigh and answer, “It’s part of it. I guess I’m just getting mixed signals from you. I know you don’t know where this is going to go, and I get that, but it’s the whole ‘you don’t know what to label it, but want to be exclusive’ thing.” Pausing to take a sip of my wine, I add, “And the Storm stuff is starting to eat at me.”
Cain sets his fork down and grabs his drink, taking a long swig before turning fully to me, giving me his full attention. “How about this? I like you, and I think you like me. Let’s just see where this goes. If we decide we want it to be more serious, then we talk about that when the time comes. In the meantime, while exploring what this is, we are exclusive to each other.”
I nod because, honestly, that takes a lot of pressure off. I don’t have to second-guess whether he’s with someone, and I actually have time to figure out what the hell I want.
“As far as the Storm thing goes, I don’t have much to say until I chat with the fucker. How’d you meet him?”
“I got a job as a server right out of high school, and Storm was a cook. He was your typical ‘I’ll sell you what you need after work’ type of line cook, and we just kind of hit it off in that sense.” I paused to think about it. “Honestly? I don’t really know him much more than that. Our conversations have always been around what we’re dealing with.”
“Good.”
“Good?”
“Yeah, good. It won’t matter if I beat his ass for making you feel uncomfortable.”
On that, I roll my eyes because, really?
“You all done?”
It takes me a second to realize he’s talking about my food.
“Oh, yeah. I’m all set.” I reach to grab his plate before he smacks my hand away. My ‘what the fuck’ expression has him laughing.
“You cook, I clean.” My eyebrows shoot up to my hairline because who is this man? “I may be a biker, hellcat, but my Ma did try to raise me right. Only a quarter of it stuck.” He smirks while grabbing my plate off of the island. “Go sit down and relax, I’ll finish up here.”
I’m so used to doing everything on my own that I almost feel sort of awkward having someone clean up after me. Grabbing my wine, I head over to the couch in the living room. The warning that’s graffitied on the wall just staring back at me.
One positive is that I haven’t really touched this room except for the new drywall that was up. So it’s not like there’s really any money lost.
I think this is the room I’ll focus on next. My kitchen is nearly complete except for some small finishing touches. I wanted to stay with a dark vibe, so I made sure the cabinets stayed black. I paired that with a gorgeous black reflective backsplash and modern Victorian-style appliances that are such a dark gray they look almost black but aren’t. My style is kind of hard to find things for, but I tend to have a lot of luck with hitting up estate sales. That’s how I found the gorgeous chandelier I have hanging above the island in the kitchen. The lights are in the shape of a circle and look like actual candles are lit when it’s on. Darker glass pieces dangle from that, creating the most beautiful reflection of light. I got it for a steal, too. I’m pretty sure Zeke thought I was crazy when I called him, begging him to pick it up for me.
I then decided to accent the area with plants, gold knobs, and handles. And by plants, I mean cactuses and aloe plants because they’re the only thing I can keep alive. I tried a few snake plants because everyone in online plant groups said they’re so easy and require little light. One girl told me that you would basically have to try to kill it for it to die. The joke’s on me, I guess, because I tried to keep it alive, and it died within two months of me having it.
“Kind of looks like you have one of those abstract modern art pieces on your wall that everyone loves,” Cain says, interrupting my thoughts and making me realize that I zoned out while looking at the mess.
I let out a laugh. “Yeah, it kind of does. I was just thinking about how I will start on this room next.” He sits beside me on the couch, grabs my legs propped up by my side, and places them across his lap. “I’m getting kind of sick of walking on plywood. It’s not a good look for my guests.” I joke
Cracking a smile, he replies, “Looks pretty fucking fancy to me. You have any idea of what you want to do with it?”
“I’d like to continue on with my moody vibes. I’m obsessed with anything gothic or Victorian, obviously.” I point out the obvious while waving my hand around. “I’m thinking of some teal shades with black, white, and gold?”
He nods his head as I talk it out. “That’s all you, hellcat. I can see it now. One of my brothers does flooring on the side. I’ll tell him to stop over so you two can discuss your options.”
“You don’t ha—” I start before I’m cut off.
“What did I say earlier? It’s no sweat off anybody’s nose, and it’s a great way to generate cash for the club. It’s a win-win in my book, babe.”
“Are you always this bossy?” I ask before sipping my wine.
“You’ll get used to it.”
I let out an embarrassing moan as Cain grabs my foot and starts massaging the arch with his thumb, pressing in all the right spots.
Heat flares in his eyes at the sound, pressing his thumb in that perfect spot again, earning a longer moan this time.
“I can’t wait to hear that noise when my cock is buried deep in you.”
I choke on my wine because who just says things like that mid-conversation? I’ve never been with a man like him. All one-hundred percent alpha and so sure of himself. His air of confidence that he carries is just enough to assert his dominance and control in every situation he’s in without coming off like a cocky douchebag. I can see why he’s the president of a one-percenter motorcycle club.
His tone commands your attention.
And damn if it doesn’t make my pussy quiver.
And damn if I don’t love that too.