Chapter 11
Storm
Holding one package of meat closer to my face, I narrow my eyes on it.
Though I can cook, I’ve always hated trying to pick the best cuts of meat.
I don’t know if this New York strip streak is better than this rib-eye.
They’re both a piece of meat from the same kind of animal.
How am I supposed to know which one to choose?
“Screw it,” I mutter to myself as I toss two of each into the cart. I’ll cook both and whatever one turns out better, we’ll eat.
I move towards the produce section and scan the items. I don’t want to make mashed potatoes. I’ve overheard Dixie tell her sisters how much she hates mashed potatoes in the past. I want to wow her with dinner, making something she dislikes isn't going to do that.
Tossing a bag of potatoes in the cart, I think through the different options I have. A baked potato would be easy, but almost too easy. I could go with fries or twice baked, but I'm thinking potato salad.
I distinctly remember one summer when Dixie was in high school and we had a barbeque at the clubhouse. She loaded up her plate with potato salad and went back for seconds with a big smile on her face.
The last few vegetables I grab are carrots to roast, and mushrooms and onions for our steaks. Dixie’s always complaining about the guys not eating enough vegetables with their meals. I think this will give us a good variety.
I just hope this is all enough to impress Dixie. Anything to get her attention focused on me is a good thing.
Wiping my hands on my apron, I make my way towards the door and twist the knob. When the light from the setting sun streams through the opening, it creates a halo effect on Dixie’s blonde hair, making her look like an angel.
“C’mon in, Little Fox.” I step aside and grin when she rolls her eyes at my nickname for her.
I take in her black leggings with her off the shoulder sweater. It’s giving me a glimpse of her soft, smooth skin, making me wish I could touch her.
Dixie’s hair is tied into a high pony tail, the tips of her hair still swishing around her shoulders. Her face is completely free of makeup, surprising me more than anything.
“Nothing smells like it’s burning.” She nods her head, her eyes going directly to the kitchen. “I'm impressed.”
“Is that all I need to do to impress you?” I smirk. “If so, I'm about to knock your socks off, baby.”
Placing my hand on her lower back, I lead her over to the island in my kitchen. I tug out one of the chairs and motion for her to take a seat.
“What did you make?” She sits a little higher in her chair as her eyes skim over all the ingredients on the counter.
“I have some steak with sautéed mushrooms and onions. Mac n cheese, roasted carrots, potato salad, and corn bread.”
“How many other people are coming for dinner?” She giggles.
“It’s just the two of us.”
“Storm! That’s so much food!”
“I kept second guessing what to make.” I lift my shoulder in a shrug.
“So, you figured you’d make it all?” She stares at me with amusement.
“It seemed like a solid idea, but now you’re making me self-conscious.” I stick my bottom lip out in a pout, though I'm not sure she can see it with my long beard. I really need to trim this thing.
“Are you pouting right now, Stormy?” She stares up at me with the most beautiful smile I’ve ever seen.
“A little,” I mumble under my breath.
“Oh my gosh! The big, tough, biker is pouting because I made fun of how much food you made!” She lets her head fall back and her sweet laughter fills the air.
If any other person were sitting in that chair and making fun of me the way she is, I’d be irritated. But this is Dixie. My Little Fox. I'm too focused on how happy and carefree she looks right now to really care.
“Are you done yet?” I pretend to glare at her, but her smile and laughter are contagious.
I drop my gaze to the counter as I begin chopping the onions and mushrooms. Once they’re finished, I grab the carrots and get to work seasoning them.
“It’s so weird to watch you cook,” Dixie says softly.
“Why?” I lift my gaze just enough to meet her gaze through my lashes.
“I don’t know. It feels like a complete contrast to the man I know.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, you’re this tough man. One most people wouldn’t want to cross paths with. I’ve seen you come home covered in someone else’s blood. I’ve seen you with black eyes and split lips. Everything about you screams dangerous. The bad boy you should stay away from.”
“But?”
“But then you have an apron tied around your waist. You’re wearing a black tee without a cut on and you almost look like a normal guy. Seriously, you don’t even have boots on! You’re barefoot.”
A deep chuckle slips past my lips before I can stop myself. She acts like I'm dangerous and she needs to watch her back. If she were anyone else, those thoughts might hold merit, but I’ll never be a danger to her. She’ll never need to watch her back because I’ll always have it.
Dixie watches me the entire time I'm cooking and when it’s finally time to eat, she takes the seat next to me and lets out a sweet little sigh.
“This all looks amazing.”
“Thank you. Hopefully it tastes amazing too. Which piece of steak would you like?”
“Did you get two different cuts?” She peeks up at me with a raised brow.
“Yes. I didn’t know which was better,” I grumble.
“I can't believe you did all of this for me.”
“Of course I did. You deserve to be pampered.”
Without another word, she points to the steak she wants and after placing it on her plate, I settle back into my seat. We silently fill our plates and cut our steaks.
“Oh my gosh! Where’d you get this potato salad?” She mumbles around a bite of food.
“I made it.”
“Shut up! You did not!”
“I did. From scratch.” My grin stretches to the point my cheeks hurt. It’s nice to know I can impress Dixie. “Everything is made from scratch.”
She stares at me for a few moments. Then she takes my hand in both of hers and shakes her head as her gaze drops to our connection.
“Thank you for making me dinner. This is one of the best meals I’ve had in a long time and it’s really nice to not have to cook.”
“You’re welcome, Little Fox.”
“Are you ever going to tell me why you call me Little Fox?”
“Maybe one day I will… I wanted to talk to you about the other night.”
“What about it?” She cuts off a piece of her steak and places it in her mouth. She chews slowly as she waits for me to answer her.
“Why did you want to leave my apartment the night you got drunk?” I watch her carefully. I have a few questions about that night. Ones that have been tumbling around in my head ever since.
“I told you, I don’t really remember going to your apartment.” She nibbles on her bottom lip, a telltale sign she’s lying.
“Nice try. I don’t believe you.” I shake my head, keeping my attention on her and nothing else. “As soon as you found out your dad approved of you being at my place, you wanted to leave. I want to know why.”
“Please, drop it. I don’t want to talk about it,” she whispers, dropping her chin so she’s staring at her lap.
Without saying a word, I spin her chair so she’s facing me. The legs scrape against the floor, creating an awful noise, but I don’t care.
“Why, Dixie?” I know what she told me that night, but I want to hear her say it again. I want to make sure I heard her correctly.
“You weren’t taking care of me because you wanted to.
You were doing it because my father told you to.
The obedient Storm Jeffery would never do anything against Porter Reeves’ wishes, including spend time with his daughter.
” She meets my gaze, anger and frustration filling her honey eyes.
“I didn’t want to be a job to you. I only wanted to be taken care of if you actually wanted me here. ”
She motions around my place, letting her eyes linger on a few framed photos I have around the living room. There’s one of me and her at a clubhouse barbeque. It was the summer after she graduated high school and Porter threw a massive party for his daughters to celebrate.
Her attention is still on the photo of us when I grab her chair and drag it closer. She’s pinned between my legs, giving her no space to get away from me. A gasp falls from her lips when I cup her cheek and stare deep into her eyes.
“You weren’t a job or a requirement that night. I wanted to take care of you. You were all I cared about. I needed to know you’d be ok.”
“But my dad…” her words trail off as her mind processes what I just admitted to her.
As much as I know I should keep my mouth shut and not tell her any of this, I don’t want to. I want to spill all of my secrets to her. I want her to desire me just as badly as I desire her. I want her to be mine.
“Your dad saw me carrying you into the clubhouse. He stopped me and said he didn’t want you to be alone. I asked if I should take you to my place or to his since you were so drunk. If I had never offered, he never would’ve asked me to bring you here. I wanted you in my bed, Dixie.”
“Why?”
“Nah, I have a few more questions for you before I'm answering any of yours.”
“Storm!”
“Patience, Little Fox. The faster you answer mine, the faster we get to yours.” A grin takes over my face. I love the defiance lighting up her eyes and the barely contained frustration.
“Fine,” she huffs out and crosses her arms over her chest. “Then ask away.”
“Why did you go to McHugh’s that night?”
“I don’t know. Roxy wanted to go and I just wanted to let go and pretend I wasn’t me for a night. To feel free and like I could make my own decisions.”
“Why did you get changed before we left?”
Her cheeks turn red as she scrambles to find something to say to me. I know whatever comes out of her mouth next is going to be a lie.
“The truth, Little Fox,” I whisper as I take her hands in mine and stare at her.
“According to Roxy,” she pauses and blows out a long breath. She doesn’t want to admit what she’s about to say, but she knows I won't back down either.
“According to Roxy…” I repeat her words, encouraging her to keep going.
“She says we could never work, but you have a thing for me and if I dressed like that, I’d get your attention,” she spits out in one long breath.
I stare at her, unsure of what to say. Do I admit how I feel and risk my entire life crashing down around me? Do I lie and save myself the drama, knowing it will cement myself in her life as anything but her boyfriend?
“Obviously she’s crazy.” She tugs her hands out of mine and tries to stand. “I should go. Dinner was delicious. Thank you for cooking for me.”
She tries to step over my leg to get away from me. Before she can get away, I tug the leg that’s between mine out from under her and make it so she’s straddling me.
“What the heck, Storm?” She shrieks and pounds her tiny fist against my chest.
“Let’s get something straight before you try to storm off and another door gets a hole in it.” I slip my hands under her sweater and let them rest on her bare waist. “Roxy isn't crazy. I’ve always had a thing for you.”
“No. No, you don’t. You just watched me because Dad told you to.”
“He did tell me to, but I would’ve watched you even if he told me not to. No matter where we are or who is with us, my attention is always on you, Dix.”
Her eyes widen, but I don’t miss the way desire swarms inside her honey-colored irises. She doesn’t want to run away from me. She wants to know she means something to me.
“I’ve wanted you for as long as I can remember, Dixie. It’s killed me to stay away from you.” I thread my fingers through her hair and grip the back of her neck.
“Then why did you stay away?” She asks breathlessly.
“Well, I didn’t think Porter would like me confessing my undying love to his underage daughter.”
“Undying love? That sounds a bit dramatic.” She smirks, leaning into my touch.
“I didn’t think you’d want some old guy flirting with you,” I continue, ignoring her teasing.
“You are almost twice my age.”
“Not twice. I know you’re not that bad at math, Little Fox. I used to help you with your homework.”
“That just makes you sound old.” She scrunches up her nose at me. “Why did you stay away, Storm?”
“Because you deserve better than the vice president of a motorcycle club.”