Chapter 21
Mia
“Aww, our first date, dinner at eleven p.m.,” I chirp with a wrinkle of my nose as I unclip my helmet and hang it from the handlebar.
“This isn’t a date,” Aiden says, doing the same and turning to head in. He looks back over his shoulder. “And you should consider yourself lucky to eat here,” he adds.
I don’t argue as I follow him up wooden steps that have clearly seen better days. This seems safe enough, but still, I brush my hand over my hip, and the familiar feeling of my razor-sharp Adamas knife clipped to the inside waistband of my tights settles me.
My knife is part of a matching set, one for me and one for Nicola, gifted to us by our brother.
Both are black-handled tactical folding knives with tungsten-gray blades.
Mine has a dragonfly engraved on it, while hers had a bumblebee.
Nic lost hers the night she was raped, after she tried to cut her assailant.
Ever since that night, I’ve always carried mine with me, just in case.
Aiden pushes the door, and it opens with a quiet ding.
There’s a bar directly in front of us with retro padded stools and a stainless-steel counter.
Behind the bar is an open window to the kitchen.
A neon pink and blue sign overhead says Early Birdie’s Café.
Along the walls flanking the door are retro light-blue padded booths.
Photos of musicians and vinyl records hang on the walls.
It feels like I’ve stepped back in time.
There’s even a jukebox playing music in the far corner.
Aiden gestures to a booth in the far back corner near the emergency exit. There’s only one patron, sitting at the bar, eating a rather delicious-looking slice of key lime pie. He looks to be about eighty, and his hat says Gone Fishin’.
When Aiden walks by, he pats him on the shoulder and says hello, and the old man’s face lights up.
“Catch anything out there today, Merve?” Aiden asks with an annoyingly beautiful smile. An almost-human smile.
“Enough for supper,” Merve says, smiling back a near-toothless grin. Merve focuses on me, then looks back at Aiden.
“Good man, the streak continues.” Aiden chuckles before he takes a seat at the booth.
As I slide in across from him, it hits me that it’s the first time I’ve seen him show affection.
Everything in this moment feels out of place.
The space itself feels like something out of the sixties, and whatever they’re making in the kitchen smells delicious, maybe pies for the next day.
The fact that this biker king made the thirty-minute drive to come here specifically, which he obviously does often enough to know the locals, makes me wonder again who the hell Aiden Foxx really is.
“Do you own this place too?” I ask.
Aiden pulls out a smoke and lights it. This must be the last restaurant in America that allows smoking indoors. There are even clean ashtrays on each table.
He shrugs on an inhale.
“You know, you’re giving me cancer right now, and also that poor old fella at the bar,” I bite out.
Aiden smirks as he takes another drag and blows the smoke away from me.
“The shampoo you wash all that hair with, the creams you put on your skin, even the clothes you wear on your back are filled with chemicals that are doing far more damage to your body every minute of every day than this will do to you.” He holds his cigarette up before taking another inhale.
“Poetic,” I bite out as a server posts up beside us. She sets down a shot of whiskey in front of Aiden and turns to me.
“Welcome, sweetheart, what can I get you to drink?” I look away from Aiden’s hypnotizing blue eyes to her.
She wears a light-pink uniform and a friendly smile.
Her crisp short-sleeved shirt is tucked into a knee-length skirt.
Her gray hair is pulled back in a severe bun, and her name tag says Ruth Anne.
“What’s your lemonade like?” I ask, leaning forward to rest my chin on my palm.
“Fresh squeezed every day.” She smiles.
“I’ll have that, please, with a shot of coconut rum.”
“Oooh, I like your style. You need a menu?”
I open my mouth to say yes, but Aiden is faster. “She doesn’t,” he says. “She’ll have what I’m having.”
“Coming up.” Ruth Anne happily turns to Aiden. “Gotta say, it’s nice to see you not sitting here alone for once.”
“Got stuck babysitting,” Aiden bites out on his exhale, his voice deep and low, his eyes on mine. He puts his cigarette out in the ashtray in front of him.
I flex my fist under the table and retort, “Actually, he kidnapped me.”
Ruth Anne looks between us for a beat then starts to laugh.
“I knew she was too good to come with you willingly,” Merve pipes up from the bar.
I smirk at Aiden. “Right, because I like my men to at least be attractive, Merve.”
Merve howls.
Aiden opens his mouth, but then his phone buzzes and he stands abruptly. He heads down a hallway, disappearing behind a bathroom door that says Bucks.
The moment Aiden is gone, Ruth Anne returns with my drink, which has a cute little umbrella in it. “Never thought I’d see the day,” she comments, shaking her head.
“I take it I’m the first woman you’ve seen with him?”
“Not just the first woman. The first anyone in a hell of a lot of years. Aiden used to come here with his dad back before he enlisted in the Navy. He was only eighteen then, so it’s been a while.
” She smiles. “I worry about that boy.” She says it like Aiden is twelve years old and not a strapping bear of a man in his thirties.
“You’ve been here that long?” I’m reluctantly curious.
“Hmmm.” Ruth Anne thinks. “Well, when I started here, my tits still pointed up.” She grins, and I can’t help but laugh.
She’s so sweet. “But yeah, it’s been a long time.
And he still eats the same thing…the same thing they ate every week, and he comes at the same time.
It’s like he can’t bring himself to let it go. ”
“How do you mean?” I hate that I’m interested.
She leans in. “Well, a couple years ago, an investor from Atlanta came in, wanted to tear this place down and build a mega gas station. Aiden bought it instead, for double its value so the owner could retire.” She shrugs. “Now, Aiden refuses to sell.”
“Keeps me eating the best pie in three counties,” Merve pipes up. “It’s the only place I can walk to from my cabin.”
I smile at him, then at Ruth Anne as she says, “Be back shortly with your supper, hon. In the meantime, if you need a refill, just holler.”
Aiden returns from the bathroom and sits back down.
“What am I getting for dinner?” I ask.
“The best meatloaf, mashed potatoes, and gravy you’ll ever eat.”
I lean back and cross my arms over my chest. “That’s a bold claim. My nana made the best meatloaf.”
Aiden takes a sip of his whiskey. “Trust me.”
I narrow my eyes. “I’d never trust you.”
“Fair enough. You shouldn’t,” he retorts, leaning in on his forearms. His eyes grip mine before they drop to trace the lines of my face. I wonder if there will ever be a time when he looks at me like this and it doesn’t make me nervous or turned on.
“So, are we talking rules?” I ask.
“You like to be in charge, don’t you?” He surprises me with his accurate assessment.
“I like to know what the next step is, yes,” I answer honestly.
“Well, the first thing you need to understand is that I’m in charge.”
I scoff.
“So first we eat, then we go home and talk rules,” he bites out, knocking back the rest of his whiskey.
“And where is home?” I ask, just as Ruth Anne pushes through the swinging door from the kitchen. She sets our plates down, and I have to admit, this dinner looks incredible. Fluffy white potatoes, meatloaf, and roasted green beans.
“You’ll learn soon enough, little goddess”—his eyes intensify at my reaction, which I’m sure is telling him that I don’t hate that nickname as much as I did at first—“home is wherever your king is.”
Well, shit.