Chapter 16
CHAPTER
SIXTEEN
Kendall
I take the runny eggs and place them back in the skillet and finish cooking them.
I watch as Booker and Kolter banter, Kolter giving Booker hell for screwing up a simple task.
Booker leans back, looking like a relieved man who just dodged a bullet.
“Finally, someone with actual talent takes over,” he quips, propping his boots up on the footrest of the stool.
Kolter chuckles from across the island. “Seriously, Booker, how are you even functioning if you can't scramble an egg without it turning into a failed science experiment?” A grin spreads across my face—considering the intense environment he was raised in, it’s wonderful to see him engaging in playful banter with Booker.
There is an innate quality about the man that instantly sets you at ease, helping you escape that heavy sense of impending doom.
I toss a spatula in the air, catch it, and wink at my son. “I honestly don't know how the club doesn't starve if this is the standard around here.”
Booker points a finger at me, feigning hurt. “Hey, I survive on coffee and adrenaline. Real cooking is just a suggestion.”
“It's a suggestion that results in charcoal toast or runny food,” Kolter adds, his giggles getting louder.
The smell of sizzling butter fills the air, and for the first time in forever, the kitchen feels light.
I flip the eggs with a quick, practiced motion.
Booker watches me, but his eyes keep flickering over to Kolter, soaking up the kid's laughter like he's afraid it's going to evaporate.
“You see that, Booker?” I joke, sliding the plates toward them with a flourish.
“That is what we call skill. Try to take notes.”
“Notes taken,” he grunts, though he can't stop that small, genuine smile from tugging at his lips. He picks up his fork and takes a bite, his expression shifting from amusement to genuine surprise. “Okay, fine. Maybe I do need to hire you as the official club chef.”
Kolter mimics his movement, eyes lighting up after his first bite. “This is way better than the burnt toast and runny stuff you tried to make.”
“Har, har, har,” Booker chuckles deeply.
He reaches out to playfully ruffle Kolter’s hair, prompting my boy to offer a bright, genuine smile.
“I think I'm being bullied in my own house,” Booker jests, shaking his head.
The banter bounces back and forth, and the heavy shadow that usually hangs over us seems to lift just a little bit.
It's ridiculous and noisy and simple, and I love every second of it.
After we scarf down our breakfast, we work as a team to clean up after ourselves.
I move to grab the skillet, but Booker’s hand beats me to the handle.
He catches my eye, and for a second, the air in the kitchen gets heavy in the best way possible.
He stands close enough that I can smell the sandalwood and something uniquely him clinging to his shirt.
“I've got it, Kendall,” he says, his voice dropping into that low rumble I’ve started to crave.
“You’ve done enough heavy lifting for one morning. ”
“You're just scared I'll find another reason to roast your cooking skills,” I quip, though my breath hitches as he steps into my personal space.
Kolter watches us from the side, a wide, mischievous grin plastered on his face.
He isn't looking at the floor or the walls anymore.
He's looking right at us, his eyes bright with excitement.
“He's definitely trying to impress you, Mom,” Kolter pipes up, his voice light.
He actually giggles, looking from me to Booker like he's watching a movie he’s been waiting to see.
Booker doesn't even break eye contact with me. He just smirks at the kid. “Is it working?” he asks, his gaze burning into mine.
I feel a flush creeping up my neck. “Maybe a little bit,” I admit, watching his smirk turn into a full, genuine grin.
“He's a keeper,” Kolter declares, crossing his arms and nodding like he just solved a math problem.
I laugh, and the sound feels foreign and wonderful. “Slow down there, kiddo. We're just cleaning up dishes.”
Booker leans in, his chest brushing against my shoulder. “We're doing more than that,” he murmurs, low enough that only I can hear.
I smile, feeling lighter than I have in a decade. “Is that so?”
“Yeah,” he says, taking the soap from me. “I think we are.” My mouth suddenly goes dry, and I lick my lips to add some moisture to them, Booker’s eyes following the movement.
Kolter hops off his stool and grabs a towel, looking like he’s trying to audition for the role of a normal kid. He starts drying a plate with overly enthusiastic motions. “You guys should totally go out,” he blurts out, his voice practically vibrating with excitement.
I nearly fumble the clean dish I’m holding. “Kolter, take a breath, sweetheart,” I laugh, feeling the heat rise into my cheeks.
Booker lets out a soft, deep rumble of a laugh. He looks at my son, and the usual tension in his shoulders vanishes. “He’s got a point, Kendall. This kitchen is usually a disaster zone. A change of scenery might be just what we need.”
Kolter pumps a fist in the air. “See? Even he wants to take you out.”
I shake my head, watching the boy's face light up. He’s so desperate for a taste of a regular life that he’s practically trying to script our future.
It’s sweet, in a reckless sort of way. I shift my gaze back to Booker, meeting his steady stare.
There’s no trace of the hardened outlaw in his expression right now, just a quiet, patient warmth.
“We’ll see,” I tell them both, though I know my heart has already decided. “Focus on the dishes for now.”
“I’m on it,” Kolter beams, swiping the towel across a bowl with way more effort than necessary.
Booker inches closer, his arm brushing against mine in a way that feels electric. “I like his initiative,” he murmurs, his voice barely a breath against my ear. “Maybe we actually do it.”
“What? Go out? You want to date me, Booker?”
“I want to do more than that, Vixen,” he purrs, using my screen name.
The air in the kitchen feels like it’s vibrating.
I drop the towel on the counter, my fingers tingling where he brushed against me.
Vixen. The name hits me square in the chest, dragging up memories I thought I’d buried under layers of survival and caution.
Kolter looks from me to Booker, his head tilted like a curious puppy.
“Vixen? That sounds like a cool codename. Are you a secret agent or something, Mom?”
I burst out laughing, the sound catching me off guard. It’s a ridiculous, wonderful release of all the tension I’ve been holding. “Not exactly, kiddo. Just a name from a life that doesn't exist anymore.”
Booker leans his hip against the counter, his eyes tracking every move I make. He looks like he’s decided he isn't going to back down. “I prefer to think of it as a name for a side of you that’s just waiting to come back out to play.”
My skin prickles under his heavy gaze. He’s pushing, and I’m definitely not pulling away. “You think you can handle that side of me?” I challenge, my voice dropping to a low, breathless whisper.
He reaches out and tucks a stray strand of hair behind my ear, his knuckles grazing my jaw.
His touch is slow, deliberate, and entirely too distracting.
“I think it’s only one of the sides of you I’m interested in.
I want all of you, the woman behind the screen and the sexy woman standing in front of me.
” Instinctively, I lift a hand and run my fingers through my tangled strands, realizing I must look like a bedraggled mess. How can he see me as sexy right now?
Kolter groans, rolling his eyes as he tosses the damp towel into the sink. “Seriously? You guys are being gross. Just go on the date so I can stop feeling like a third wheel.”
Booker laughs, his hand dropping to rest on my waist. The heat from his palm seeps right through my shirt, making my pulse jump. “You hear that? The kid’s giving us his blessing. Are you gonna say yes, or do I have to negotiate with you, too?”
I bite my lip, staring up at him. Everything feels possible right now. Everything feels like a new beginning. “I’m saying yes, Booker. I’m definitely saying yes.”
Booker pulls back just enough to look at me. “Okay. If we're really doing this, we need a plan for the boy.”
“I'm not a baby,” Kolter chirps, though he's beaming. “I can hang out with Slayer. He said he’d show me his bike later anyway, and I can play games with Shade. It's not a big deal. Please, Mom, just go.”
I look up at Booker, still seeking his reassurance. “Are you sure that's safe?”
Booker nods. “Slayer will keep an eye on him. I trust him with my life, and he's good with the kid. Besides, there's always someone on guard duty around here. I’ll give him a call and see if Kolter can hang out with him, Jersey, Carolina, and Boston.”
“So where are we going?” I ask, my stomach doing a nervous flip that has nothing to do with fear.
Booker leans against the counter, his eyes dark and focused. “There's that small diner on the outskirts of town. It's quiet, private, and the food is decent. No one's gonna bother us there, and it's close enough to the clubhouse if anything happens.”
“But we just ate!” I argue, patting my stuffed belly. “There’s no way I could pack anymore food in here.”
Booker laughs, the sound deep and resonant in the small kitchen.
He shakes his head, his eyes dancing with amusement.
“Who said anything about a full meal? We can just grab coffee or maybe a slice of pie if you've got room.
I'm not taking you out to watch you force down a burger, I just want to spend time with you.”
I let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding, feeling a little silly for worrying about the menu. “Coffee and pie? That sounds dangerous.”
“It's risky business.” Booker grins, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear again. The motion is familiar now, and my skin hums where he touches me. “But I think we can handle it.”
Kolter pipes up from the counter, his eyes darting between us. “You guys are impossible. Just go get the coffee already. You're wasting time.”
I turn to my son, shaking my head. “You're getting bold, kiddo.”
“I'm just realistic,” Kolter says with a shrug. For a child his age, his command of language is exceptional. It breaks my heart to think that being forced to grow up prematurely is the cause. “You two are acting just like a couple of teenagers.”
Booker chuckles, his hand dropping to the small of my back. “He’s right. Maybe we should stop talking and get moving before he decides to ground us for being too slow.”
“Fine,” I laugh, feeling a genuine excitement bubbling up. It’s been so long since I’ve had someone plan something just for me. “But I need to change my clothes and brush my hair first. Then we can get out of here before he changes his mind about being our wingman.”
“Slayer just answered, they’d love to have Kolter come hang out. While you’re changing, I’ll run him over there,” he tells me, leaning over and giving me a peck on the temple before swatting my ass and shoving me toward the hallway. “Go get beautified, woman.”