CHAPTER TWELVE THREE FRIED CHICKENS AND A BABY
CHAPTER TWELVE
THREE FRIED CHICKENS AND A BABY
LUNA
I’d spent the morning wondering if I was doing more harm than good by invading Mrs. Hyde’s—Piper’s—space and bringing distressing memories with me.
To be fair, she hadn’t seemed put off by the request. True to Rhys’s prediction, she’d sent an enthusiastic response that had included multiple exclamation points.
It’d also included the promise of dessert.
Despite that reassurance and tempting incentive, I’d still worried. My car ride with Rhys hadn’t done much to calm those nerves.
And it wasn’t just because I’d used the opportunity to slide a tiny tracker from my pocket and into a crevice under the mat. The placement was just a precaution if I was going to be riding in his car more than a misgiving about the man himself.
Somehow, though, that hadn’t been the most stressful part of the drive.
His words kept circling through my head, opening doors and possibilities I hadn’t considered.
Possibilities that churned my stomach worse than before.
Possibilities that would suck for a multitude of reasons—including some I didn’t want to think about.
So I didn’t consider them. I focused on what was important.
Doing my job.
As we drove, I kept my gaze alert for any signs of being followed. Of anything suspicious. Of anything off—other than the vibes in the cool car.
Those were very off, but that was mostly my doing.
Rhys flipped on his blinker before pulling into a lot in front of a long building. It looked like it should’ve housed half a dozen stores or businesses, but there were only two signs.
Hyde Garage and Sweets You Rock Bakery.
The oddest combo.
Parking, Rhys killed the engine before looking at me. “Even if you didn’t come today, you’d have seen Piper eventually. She comes into Rye.”
But does she do it with or without her husband is the real question…
“Did she warn you there would be anyone else here?” he asked, but his tone was more than conversational. It was like he was issuing his own warning.
“She mentioned that Harlow might stop by.”
“There’s no might about it. Also assume there will be a rotation of guys from the garage.”
“Why?”
“The place is filled with nosy fuckers.”
“Maybe this isn’t a good idea then. My job is to fly under the radar. Blend in.”
He opened his mouth before snapping it closed again.
I arched a brow. “What?”
“Nothing. You’ll be fine. They know what’s up, and they won’t say anything to fuck with it.”
I wasn’t sure about that. Undercover work wasn’t what they showed in movies.
We didn’t routinely send in untrained civilians wearing a wire like in those over-the-top dramas because people were shitty actors.
A target would take one look at the unavoidable flop sweat and panic most were incapable of hiding, and the whole thing would be blown.
But Rhys seemed pretty damn confident as he climbed from the car without hesitation.
I did the same, but with enough hesitation for both of us.
Keeping my eyes open as we walked, I took in our surroundings, but also him. Watching for any twitch. Any scowl.
A clenched fist or flared nostrils.
There was nothing until he opened the door to the busy bakery, and a genuine, deeply dimpled smile curved his mouth. “Subtle.”
I followed his line of vision to the three women who stood behind the counter, their relaxed poses forced as they pretended to be locked in conversation.
It would’ve been more effective if they hadn’t been staring at us.
Not glancing. Not peeking.
Staring.
So much for flying under the radar.
My steps halted as I contemplated whether it was better to risk them blowing my cover or to draw attention to us by fleeing. Fleeing seemed like the better option.
Rhys put his hand on my lower back as he leaned down to whisper, “We’re good. It would’ve been more unusual if they didn’t do this.”
Yikes.
I had my own apartment. Even if I didn’t live an hour away from most of my family, I never worried about surprise stop-ins.
We were close, but not like that. Beyond that, I lived, breathed, and sweated work.
My social life was a bit lacking because of that, but I didn’t mind.
I loved what I did. And I loved that once I was off the clock, I answered to no one.
Having people in my business was unfamiliar.
Of course, Rhys probably felt the same with me being in his business—both literally and figuratively.
I pulled my focus from him to look back at the counter. That time, the women weren’t even trying to be discreet as they inspected our close positioning.
Piper was the first to speak, her smile warm and open. “Hey, Lo.”
Lo. Instant. Easy. No stammering, correcting, or awkwardness.
Maybe I was wrong about everyone being shitty actors.
“Am I chopped liver with you, too?” Rhys grumbled as we closed the distance to the counter.
She lifted an unapologetic shoulder. “You’re old news. But you said too. Who else are you chopped liver to?”
“Everyone.”
“Oh yeah. Woe is you. So ignored and discarded,” She contradicted her lack of sympathy by handing him a chocolate chip cookie that looked wildly decadent.
“If I say I’m chopped liver, do I get one of those?” I asked, and the hopeful tone in my voice wasn’t forced for the joke. I really wanted one of those cookies.
She grinned.
I remembered her being gorgeous, but she was stunning. Her black hair was pulled up in a messy bun that looked effortless yet still cute. Her curves were hugged by jeans and a fitted top, and the cherry print apron around her waist somehow looked cool instead of matronly.
Certainly not like a geriatric stripper-gram.
But a big part of her prettiness was because Rhys had been correct.
She was happy. In general, but also to see me.
If there was something going on between the two of them, happiness would probably be the last emotion she’d feel about me. But there were no stolen glances between her and the man at my side. No forced casualness or stilted unease. No side-eye to Rhys’s close positioning to me.
That last part could’ve just been because she knew the relationship was completely fabricated, but it was still telling that there was no involuntary blip of negativity from her.
Or so I thought.
Because at my question, she shook her head. “Nope.”
Damn.
Before that culinary disappointment could sink in, she leaned closer to stage whisper, “I already saved you a whole stash.”
“Unfair,” Rhys said, even as he ate half his own cookie in one giant bite.
“Maybe if you’re nice, she’ll share.”
“Oh good, definitely all for me then,” I said, making Piper, Harlow, and the unknown woman laugh.
Rhys wasn’t as amused. “I’m nice.”
“Sure. Whatever you say.”
Before he could respond, a swinging door pushed open as a vaguely familiar man came from the back. He lifted his chin at Rhys before looking at me with dark, smoldering eyes.
I didn’t even know that eyes could smolder outside of romance books and cartoon princes, yet there we were.
If that wasn’t enough, he rumbled, “Hey, mama. Heard what happened. You good?”
Mama.
My God, that’s hot.
“Yeah, thanks,” I said to the man whose name I couldn’t remember. Like Harlow, I’d met him briefly when I’d stopped into the old location to check on Piper.
A lot had changed with their surroundings, but her support system seemed just as strong.
Stronger even.
“Knock it off, Xavier,” Rhys said as he used the hand he still had on my back to nudge me around the counter and into the kitchen without an invitation or explanation.
Just in time for us to interrupt some grab-ass.
Literally.
A big, blond man used his big, tattooed hand to palm a not-big butt cheek. At our appearance, he stood upright at our approach and smiled without a hint of shame. His dimples were good, though not as good as Rhys’s.
Observationally speaking, of course.
I already assumed the man was one of the Court of Mayhem members even before he rounded the woman to give an unobstructed view of the leather vest that matched the ones I’d seen at Rye.
His smile stayed in place as he shook Rhys’s hand before they did one of those dude hugs with the shoulder thumps.
“Haven’t seen you around lately,” Rhys said to him.
And I can guess why…
“Could say the same about you,” the man shot back. “When’s the last time you were at the clubhouse?”
“Too long.”
“We’ll have to fix that.” He gestured over his shoulder. “Swedes already promised Mac fried chicken next weekend. Come by.” He included me in his invite by talking to me like we were old friends. “All homemade, all perfection. It’ll be the best meal you’ve ever eaten.”
“Sounds amazing,” I said, and it wasn’t a lie.
Most of my meals came in to-go containers or were thrown together for me to easily shovel into my face. Plus, I just plain liked food, so fried chicken of any kind sounded amazing. And some that didn’t come in a cardboard bucket?
Count me in, even if Rhys didn’t want to go.
Or if his attendance was required for me to attend, I had no problem handcuffing him and forcing him to go.
I looked at the woman who I assumed was Mac. Well, it was her or the baby strapped to her chest, but the little one didn’t look old enough to eat solid food, much less request it.
A hand started patting its back and blocking the slight view I had, making me realize I’d been staring at the cutie. I raised my focus to smile at the woman.
Unlike the other three women out front, she didn’t seem particularly interested in me or my fake relationship with Rhys. She wasn’t rude or glaring or anything. But her return smile was small and brief before she glanced down at her phone. “Sorry to interrupt, but I need to get back, baby.”
The biker cut off whatever he’d been saying to Rhys and moved all up in his woman’s space.
The smile she gave him was far from small, and it matched the dimpled grin on his face.
With their profiles to me, I watched as he softly spoke to her and their kid.
It was almost comical to see a guy who would be intimidating at first glance be so gooey for them. Even his touch was gentle.
But the kiss he gave Mac? Not so much.
I spun to give them privacy in the semi-public place, only to see the other three women had joined us at some point while I’d been distracted by fried chicken and a baby.
I assumed that heated display of affection would be their goodbye, but I was wrong. The biker wrapped his arm around Mac’s shoulder and looked at Rhys. “I’m walking my girls out. Meet you on the other side?”
What a morbid thing to say.
“Yeah,” Rhys rumbled.
And what a morbid thing to agree to.
With a chorus of goodbyes—including another oddly avoidant smile aimed my way from Mac—they left.
Huh.
“You good?” Rhys asked me quietly.
But maybe not quietly enough.
Piper moved toward a very shiny… something as she spoke.
“I’m making fresh coffee, she has baked goods, and she also has our company.
And we’re a freakin’ delight. There’s zero coffee at the garage, and it smells like sweat and grease, not sugar and vanilla.
Though my boys are okay company… I guess.
Either way, she’s gonna have a better time than you. ”
“Maybe I’ll stick around here.” Rhys leaned back on one of the gleaming counters, stretching his long legs out and crossing them at the ankle. He hooked a finger into one of my belt loops and tugged me back toward him before folding his arms across his broad chest. “Seems this is the better deal.”
“It is. But you still have to leave.”
He gave a long-suffering sigh as he stood upright again. He didn’t move, though. “I’ll be right over on the garage side.”
Oh.
The other side.
That makes more sense than…
It took me a second to realize he was waiting for me to respond.
I wasn’t really sure what to say, but my mouth decided on a very feeble, “Okay, have fun?”
His lips quirked up at that, and he headed for the door—but not before snagging a cookie off a tray.
“Hey, only the first one’s free,” Piper called, though it didn’t do much good. She shook her head as she looked at me. “That’s how I hook ’em.”
Since I was still thinking about the cookies she’d given me previously, it was a very effective business plan.