CHAPTER 5
GRAYCIE
I pull another tray of cookies out of the oven and slide the next one in. Moving around the kitchen feels meditative and I’ve been doing it long enough for it to feel like second nature at this point. It’s a damn good thing too because part of my mind is stuck on meeting Snake at the clubhouse.
There was something about the way his gray eyes raked over me. He looked at me with so much more in his gaze than appreciation. It was something real, but I don’t know if I’m ready to examine what it is. Or what it could be.
When I pop my head out of the backroom to peer into the main part of the bakery, Lara is filling a tray of lemon bars and humming along with the music. If you think we’re listening to classical or elevator music in a bakery which looks like a pink flower fever dream—which is amazing—you’d be wrong.
You never know what will be playing.
I think my favorite is when the shuffle brings us some genuine feminine indie rage music. Lara will sing along at the top of her lungs without giving a single fuck about who is in the bakery. It’s freeing in a way I’m not sure I’m ready for.
Since she’s occupied, I duck back into the kitchen and start cleaning up since the last tray of cookies is in the oven. I’ll make some dough for tomorrow, but resetting the kitchen is a must.
After I pull the cookies out of the oven and get them on the cooling rack, everything is organized and ready to fill the cases out front if Lara needs them. It allows me to breathe a little easier.
The systems of the bakery have helped me to find some control in my life. For so long with Sylvester, it felt like I had no control. I hate how he took that away from me. He took so much away from me.
I poke my head back into the main room of the bakery and ask Lara, “Do you need anything from back here?”
“No, we’re good.” She looks around before waving me over.
I already know where this is going. She’s been curious about my visit to the clubhouse. Which is kind of strange because she doesn’t seem to particularly like the men of the SOMC. It’s not like she avoids them, but she rolls her eyes whenever they ride down the street.
When I’m close enough, she leans toward me and lowers her voice, “Are you sure they were nice? I mean, none of them like belched or farted in front of you?”
I blink at her a few times before snorting and then doubling over laughing. “Did you really just ask me if they were burping and farting in front of me?”
She gives me a droll look. “Like you weren’t worried about it happening before you went there,” she snarks.
“No,” I giggle, “I really wasn’t. It didn’t even cross my mind. And no, there was no belching,” I emphasize the word and bat my eyelashes at her, “or farting. None I’m aware of at least.”
“Okay, but did they do anything gross?” She snaps her fingers and points at me. “How about sexist?”
I roll my eyes and sigh. “I already told you, everyone was nice. I mean, I didn’t get the warm fuzzies from everyone, but Opal’s mom and dad were great and made me feel welcome. Warden is a big guy, but there was a gentle giant thing going on too. He clearly loves Opal.”
Lara gives me a soft smile. “I’m glad you had a good time.”
Her words make me pause because at the time it was simply something to endure. It was a lot to process, and I was overly aware of everything. Everything.
Including the way Snake’s gray eyes followed me everywhere. I haven’t mentioned that to Lara.
My eyebrows pull together and the confession slips free, “I guess I did have a good time. I didn’t mean to.”
The weight of Lara’s hand as it lands on my shoulder is grounding. “It’s not a bad thing. It’s good really,” her words hold a gentle urging which lands in the middle of my chest.
I look over at the table where Vanessa usually sits to do homework after she gets home. But she’s not there today.
“She’s upstairs,” Lara lets me know, “because she wanted to read in peace.”
“That’s the magic of media center day,” I tell her and she grins with a nod.
The bell above the door goes off and we both look over to find Ezra Lyons walking through the door with a grin on her face. She’s already almost drooling over the goods on display. When I get a look at her shirt, my eyes widen.
April showers bring May flowers and Mayflowers bring smallpox.
“They let you wear that one at school?” I can’t help but blurt out the question.
It only makes Ezra’s smile widen. “Is it wrong?”
“Well,” I concede, “technically no.”
“Then they can’t say anything to me,” she finishes with a shrug. “It’s not like there’s a cuss word on it or anything.”
Every time I’m around Ezra, I can’t help but wish I had a teacher like her back in high school. She’s passionate about history, which is what she teaches. It’s clear she cares about her students from the way she talks about them. And she has a sense of humor.
I love her shirts. She has quite a few and whenever I see a new one, I usually end up giggling. They’re always about history and usually make you think. If it helps one of her students appreciate what she’s trying to teach them, I can’t find a downside.
But at the same time, people who rock the boat, even a little bit, are looked down on. Is it possible that she gets away with it because she’s the only daughter Sheriff Raymond Lyons has?
I haven’t seen her use her father’s position for her own gain. But what do I really know? I’m new around here.
“It’s a good one,” I tell her and she does a little curtsey.
We all laugh together as Ezra looks over the display case like she doesn’t already know what she wants.
I swear she’s a second away from pressing her face right to the glass to drool over the chocolate chunk cookies.
They’re big and perfectly chocolatey. The only thing better than grabbing one is getting one right out of the oven.
“Okay, fine, I’ll have two cookies today,” Ezra sighs and I have to cover my mouth to hide my smile.
Lara bags them up quickly. “You know I’ll always make sure I have cookies for you,” Lara tells her, a slight tease in her voice.
“You know the way to my heart,” Ezra’s tone is serious and grateful.
Just as Lara hands Ezra her change, the roar of a few bikes coming down the road fills the air.
Before I spent time at the clubhouse, I would have hidden upon hearing that noise.
Now, curiosity fills me and I’m tempted to walk over to the large picture windows in the front of the bakery to see how many there are and who is riding.
But I stop myself because it would be weird.
Ezra glances over her shoulder as she grabs the cookies. Her feet are fast as she heads to the door. “I’ll be seeing you later,” she tosses the words over her shoulder.
Then she’s gone. It’s only a few moments later when the sound of the pipes stop in front of the bakery when they normally ride by. My belly flips, but I don’t want to be disappointed when Snake isn’t with them. Which is why I start to head toward the back.
“Oh no you don’t,” Lara’s voice has dropped to a threatening whisper even though not a single biker has entered the bakery.
“I’m sure they’re not coming in here,” I try to assure her, but my words sound hollow.
Before she can tell me how ridiculous I’m being, which she would be right about, the bakery door swings open. The space feels far too small as Ryker, Snake, and Playboy walk in. They look out of place considering the inside of Bunz Out is a feminine dream filled with pink flowers.
As they take everything in, I notice a blonde woman has stepped in behind Playboy.
She wraps her arm around his waist like she has a right to touch him.
I remember seeing her the other day, but it was brief and she clearly had an attitude problem.
No one introduced us and I’m not sure why she’s here.
“Oh, Lara,” the blonde woman’s voice is overly sweet and I internally cringe, “your place is certainly very cute.”
My boss, who prides herself on being professional as far as I can tell, arches her eyebrow so damn high I’m afraid it’s about to get lost in her hair line.
I can feel how much the comment rankles her and the glacial look she’s giving the blonde would have me thinking twice about opening my mouth again.
Apparently, the blonde isn’t concerned as she sneers, “But don’t you think it’s a little over the top?”
Lara’s eyes sweep over the woman with disgust written all over her face. “I don’t think you have any room to judge anyone else, Lola,” she says the woman’s name like a curse and my eyes go wide.
I’ve never heard Lara speak to someone like she would rather bury their body in the backwoods of the Blue Ridge Mountains than have a civil conversation.
The men are looking back and forth between the woman, clearly unsure of what is going on the same way I am. Throughout the entire interaction, I’m desperately trying not to look at Snake. But it’s almost impossible not to.
Especially with the way he’s looking at me. I’m not even sure he’s blinked since the moment he walked in. I can feel the way his eyes are boring into me, and it takes everything in me not to shiver with the intensity of it all.
Lara looks at the woman, her top lip curling up at the obvious boob job the woman has, before turning around sharply and heading back into the kitchen. Damn it. I almost reach out to stop her because I was going to use the kitchen as an escape. Now I can’t. And it’s a problem.
While Lola is looking around, I take a moment to study her. Lara’s never mentioned her before, but there’s something familiar about her and they clearly know each other. I’m curious as to how, but I can’t exactly go into the back and ask. At least not right now.
Ryker glances at the door before looking at me, his voice a deep rumble as he asks, “Was that Ezra Lyons I saw coming out of here?”