Chapter 12 Casseroles, Chaos, and Getting In Over My Head
CASSEROLES, CHAOS, AND GETTING IN OVER MY HEAD
CANDYMAN
I’m second-guessing myself the entire ride here.
It’s not far from the club, but still. I know Izzy is going to lose her mind.
I follow BB’s truck up the drive and park my bike up behind them.
I’m off and waiting by BB’s truck by the time they get out.
“This your parents’ house?” I ask BB for no real reason other than to force conversation.
“No, that’s why I made the U-turn by the Marathon station. Apparently, little Etta just went down for a nap, so they moved dinner to King and Gabby’s new place.”
“Gotcha,” I murmur, following behind them.
The house is gorgeous. It’s a log cabin with a large chimney made of river rock that sits between two sets of patio doors that lead out to a huge ass deck. It’s big. I’m thinking King must want twenty kids, and I’m not sure this house would have a bit of trouble fitting them all in.
“Sorry, we’re late,” BB says as he and Beau walk in.
“There’s my favorite daughter-in-law,” a woman with blonde hair and almost red highlights says, coming in and hugging Beau at once. I can only imagine this is BB and Izzy’s Mom. She has Izzy’s beauty for sure, though Izzy has eyes that stop my breath. She must have gotten those from her dad.
“I’m your only daughter-in-law,” Beau points out.
“Nah, if I had ten, I’d let my man deal with them, and you’d still be my favorite.”
“Sorry, Katie-did,” Torch says, coming up behind the woman and kissing her temple. “But I claim Beau. You can warm up to whatever man Izzy brings home. Let’s just pray it’s not that football guy, Kai, that she was so hung up on. That asshole was never good enough for our daughter.”
My body jerks as if someone physically hit me.
Kai? God, I hate that fucking name. It sounds like a preppy kid with shirts that have annoying collars and buttons on them.
Slacks that are neatly pressed and hands smooth as a baby’s ass because he hasn’t worked a day in his life.
He’s not the kind of man Izzy needs. She needs someone to take care of her.
She’s hell on wheels, but at the end of the day, she needs a man who will take control and pamper her, show her that she matters above anything or anyone else. She needs me.
“Dad, let it go,” Izzy says, coming up to join us. “Beau, you’re just in time. We need your help in the kitchen.”
“Sure, but why?” Beau asks.
Izzy looks over at me briefly. There’s something in her eyes. I expected anger, and there’s probably a touch of that, but there’s more. She appears nervous—almost scared. Is she afraid of me?
Shit. Is she running away from me now that I’m here?
“We need you to work your magic on Aunt Beth’s casserole while BB, Dad, and Skull distract her.”
“My magic? I don’t think I can help that casserole, Izzy.”
“You sure as hell can’t hurt it,” Torch mutters.
“My sister is many things, and ninety-nine-point-nine percent of them are all good. Cooking is something she lacks. She can manage a no-frills breakfast, but the rest …” Katie shrugs.
“I can help,” I speak up, and everyone looks at me shocked as hell. It doesn’t bother me at first, but it’s starting to get to me. Although I do like the surprise in Izzy's eyes. I want to keep her on her toes. There’s a lot about me she doesn’t know.
“You?” Torch and BB say almost in unison.
“Well, yeah. I don’t want to brag, but I grew up rough. I learned how to make about anything good enough to eat.”
“Anything?” Izzy asks, her gaze narrowing on me in disbelief.
“When you barely got one meal a day, trust me, you learned to make it so you could at least eat it.”
I’ve long grown past the age when I worried about people learning how I grew up.
So, I spoke without thinking, but seeing the way everyone was staring at me right now—especially Izzy—I find myself wishing I had kept my mouth shut.
Desperate to get the attention away from my past, I force my lips into a smile.
“Show me to the casserole and let me wow you with my skills, ladies.”
“That’s some strong words, C,” Izzy murmurs, her gorgeous eyes sparkling.
“I can back it up,” I brag. I’d like to enjoy the look on her face, but her mother is staring holes through me. I have a feeling she doesn’t like what she sees either.
“Well, let’s see what you can do,” she says, but it’s clear she’s already expecting me to disappoint her. Izzy rolls her eyes, so maybe her mother’s attitude isn’t just because she doesn’t like me.
“Lead the way, ladies.”
Beau kisses BB and then grabs my arm, and we follow Izzy and her mom into what I imagine is the kitchen.
Beau makes sure that there’s a little distance between us and my woman so that we can talk.
I’m grateful—for more reasons than just having the chance to see the way Izzy’s ass looks in those jeans she’s wearing.
“I don’t think Izzy’s mom is a fan.”
“Are you running scared already, C?”
“Hitching up with BB has turned you into a smartass, Beau.”
She laughs, making Izzy and her mother look back at us. “Beau is doubting my culinary abilities,” I explain.
“I hate to break it to you, but we kind of all do. If you fail, you’re going to eat half of the casserole all by yourself.”
“I’ll do it, but could someone explain why we’re doing it?” I ask just as we get into the kitchen.
“Aunt Beth is one of the best people I know. She’d give anything to see those she loves happy. It makes her happy to take care of her family. But …” Izzy stops, looking at her mom.
“What my daughter isn’t saying is that as wonderful as my sister is, she sucks at cooking.”
“I’m sure it’s not that bad,” I mutter, taking the lid off the portable casserole dish.
“She once made a tuna casserole that landed Diego and Carlos in the hospital for three nights,” Katie says.
“What happened?”
“She thought since she didn’t have to cook the tuna, she’d do fish and make a sushi casserole.”
I look at her. “Well, okay, that doesn’t sound great, but—”
“She used catfish because Skull and Hunter had gone fishing the day before.”
“Oh shit,” I whisper, with a low whistle. I know of all types of fish, and catfish can be very dangerous because of the bacteria and things that they carry.
“Exactly.”
“Can you fix it?” Izzy whispers somewhere near my ear. She’s leaning on the counter next to me, and it takes everything I have to fight the way my cock wants to respond to her soft voice.
“I think so, although after the catfish story, you guys kind of have me scared to try it to see what it needs.”
“Well, if it helps, Aunt Beth refuses to even look at catfish again,” she replies helpfully.
“This one is all chicken. She did add egg noodles and cream of chicken soup,” Katie replies and I nod.
I pull out a couple of drawers, grabbing a spoon when I find the silverware. I take a small taste. It’s not bad. It’s not good. It’s bland. It could be tofu. There’s really no taste, and I’m not even sure how that is possible.
“Is there a spice rack or something here? I need to see what I have to work with,” I mutter.
“Here ya go,” Katie answers, reaching into the cabinet above her head.
I sift through the spices and get to work.
It won’t be the perfect fix, but it will be edible.
I end up putting the seasoning in, and then after sifting through the cabinets quickly, I find some Better Than Bullion.
I microwave it with some water—add a little seasoning to it—and then add a sleeve of crushed Ritz crackers to some butter and spread it over the top of the casserole.
Finally, I put it in with the oven on broil just to brown it.
When I get it out, I stir it so that the crackers are at the bottom.
It should soak up the liquids a little more, plus hide the fact that I added them in the first place.
I don’t want Beth to realize I’ve changed her casserole.
When it’s done, I can’t say it’s pretty, but it should taste decent.
When Beth put the cream of chicken in, I’m thinking she added two cans full of water as well. There was absolutely no taste to it.
“Are you finished?” Izzy asks as I put the casserole dish on the table.
“Yep. Which one of you is going to be brave enough to test it?” I ask.
“I will,” Katie speaks up, and suddenly I’m nervous. It shouldn’t matter, but I’d like Izzy’s mom to like whatever I fix.
Christ, what has become of me? I’m trying to impress my woman’s mother.
“Damn. You’re pretty good,” she says, sounding impressed.
“I try, although chicken casserole isn’t really in my wheelhouse. You should try my Tuscan spareribs with a balsamic glaze.”
“A biker and a chef. You’re very interesting,” Katie murmurs, but her gaze is centered on her daughter before sliding back to me. I get the feeling she sees more than Izzy would like her to, but I don’t back down. I just return her stare.
“I’m a man of many secrets,” I confirm.
“That you are,” she says mysteriously. “Izzy, come help me set the main dining room table and distract your Aunt Beth.”
“Okay, Mom,” Izzy says, giving me a brief glance before following her mother. I resist the urge to grab her hand, pull her to me, and kiss the hell out of her. Tonight needs to hurry and be over so I can get that woman back to my hotel …
Because I have to, I watch her walk away.
I can’t take my eyes off her—especially the way her jeans cling to her ass.
God, she’s so perfect and the woman has no idea just how deep I am already in when it comes to her.
There’s no way to tell her either. It would more than likely scare the hell out of her.
Hopefully tonight will be my first step to making sure she has faith in me. That she trusts me.
I just wish I had an idea of how to accomplish that.