Chapter 20
Lauren
I gave up on the idea of going back to sleep after Trick left to meet with Bull and hopped in the shower instead, hoping it would make me feel a little more ready to face the day.
I dressed in jeans and a T-shirt that said, “Audiobooks are real books” and had just finished drying my hair when Trick came back into the room.
He was bearing coffee and muffins, plus a protein shake that I sincerely hoped was for him, and not me.
The muffins looked incredible…almost as good as a shirtless Trick wearing only a pair of blue jeans riding low on his hips.
He greeted me with a distracted peck on the cheek, then set everything down on the small table in front of the loveseat.
“Ella sent some muffins for us, darlin’,” he said quietly as he picked up the shake and downed a huge gulp of it.
By the time I’d finished a muffin and half of my coffee, it was obvious that something was very wrong. Trick made it a point to look everywhere but at me and brushed aside my questions about his meeting with Bull, telling me it could wait until after we ate.
I finally set my cup down and demanded answers.
“Would you please just tell me already? The longer you avoid the subject, the more anxious I’m feeling.”
He sighed, then reached for my hand, gently squeezing it as he told me about the threat from Beau, and Dustin’s attack, assuring me that he would be OK.
“The doctors said they think he’ll make a full recovery.”
My stomach heaved, and I was afraid I was going to be sick. I clasped my hand over my mouth and tried to hold back the bile rising in my throat.
“Breathe, darlin’,” Trick coaxed, scooting toward me so he could rub my back. “Nice deep breaths…in and out, just like that.”
“This is all my fault,” I whispered, only to have Trick grip my chin and turn my face toward his. His expression was fierce as he shook his head.
“No, it’s not, and I don’t want you feeling guilty. The only one to blame here is Beau, and we’ll take care of his ass soon.”
“But if – ”
Trick put a finger over my lips to stop me. “No, Lauren. No buts, no what ifs. This is absolutely not your fuckin’ fault.”
He put his arm around me and pulled me into his side, and I rested my head on his bare shoulder. I was shaken to the core by what he’d told me, and despite what he said, I couldn’t stop the feeling of guilt that Dustin had been hurt because of me.
We sat there quietly, until Elvis made it known that he wanted his breakfast, too. I took care of him, while Trick took a quick shower and got dressed.
“You’ll drive yourself crazy sitting in here all day. Let’s walk over to the garage and you can visit with your uncle for a while.”
We found Uncle Bill sitting in his office at the garage. Sinner was there, too, kicked back in a chair and sipping on a cup of coffee. They’d heard about Dustin already and lectured me on not feeling guilty.
“That’s what I told her, too, but I don’t think it helped,” Trick pointed out.
“She’s hard-headed, that one,” Uncle Bill grumbled to him, talking about me as if I weren’t even in the room.
Sinner snorted and asked, “I wonder where she gets that from?” My uncle scowled at him and flipped him off.
It was obvious from the crumbs on the plate in front of them that the two men had been enjoying the muffins that Ella made, too, and conversation soon turned to the weight they both claimed to have gained since she started cooking for them.
I suspected they were trying to distract me from my thoughts about Beau and Dustin, something I became sure of when Trick told them about the dismal state of my kitchen and that he had offered to give me cooking lessons.
Uncle Bill gave me a sly grin, then launched into a story about the time I’d attempted to make barbequed chicken and had given everyone food poisoning. From the way Sinner grinned and started nodding along, it was clear he’d heard this story more than once over the years.
I groaned and ducked my head, as heat blazed along my cheekbones.
“When my brother was still alive, he’d shown her how to grill a steak.
After he died, I stopped by the house to clean the gutters out, and Lauren offered to grill some barbequed chicken for dinner.
The chicken was charred to a fuckin’ crisp on the outside, but I didn’t want to hurt her feelings, so I forced it down.
The problem was, it was still raw on the inside, only the barbeque sauce hid that fact until we’d eaten half of it,” he grimaced, looking slightly green at the memory of it.
“I’ve never been so damned sick in my life. It was comin’ out both ends, and to this day I can’t eat barbequed chicken without my asshole puckerin’ and my stomach heavin’.”
“I was only twelve years old,” I protested, “and Grandpa always insisted that steaks needed to be cooked medium rare. I just assumed that all meats were the same.”
“Your grandpa was a dumbass who couldn’t count to twenty-one unless he took his pants off, girlie.
You should never have taken advice from him about anythin’,” he complained.
“That miserable bastard gave me nothin’ but grief when he was alive, and I’m not one damned bit surprised that he managed to give me a case of the chicken shits from the afterlife. ”
I couldn’t help but laugh, and he and Trick both looked pleased with themselves for getting my mind off things, even for a moment.
Lucky came in to speak to Viking about an issue with a customer, so Trick and I left the garage and walked across the courtyard to the main clubhouse building. Thursday mornings at the clubhouse were apparently very quiet, because there was no one in the common room.
He talked me into a game of darts, and then we moved over to the pool table, where Trick discreetly tried to palm my ass when I bent over to take a shot. It went wide, of course, and rolled into the side pocket without coming anywhere near the other balls.
I straightened abruptly, glancing around the room to make sure we were still alone. Trick just grinned and stepped up to the table. Within minutes, he’d cleared it, gloating about his superior pool-playing skills.
I narrowed my eyes and pinned him with a glare.
“You have superior grab-ass skills, which is why I missed my shot in the first place,” I insisted, although based on past experience, I would have missed the shot anyway. He didn’t need to know that though.
He smirked, then bent his head and kissed the tip of my nose. “You are so much fun to tease,” he whispered, putting our pool cues back in the rack mounted on the wall.
“Let’s go see if there’s anything in the kitchen for lunch, otherwise we’ll order something.”
I followed him into the kitchen, and he checked the contents of the refrigerator and huge pantry.
“There’s not a whole lot here, but I can make us a couple of grilled cheese sandwiches and heat up a can of soup.”
“Soup and sandwiches would be fine. Can I help with anything?”
“No, just have a seat and I’ll take care of it.”
He got the tomato soup ready for the microwave, adding milk instead of the water I usually used, and adding a sprinkle of dried basil to it, then set it aside and started preparing the sandwiches for the skillet.
“The food will be ready in just a minute, babe,” he said as the microwave dinged. One of the club bunnies – I wasn’t sure which one – wandered in at that moment wearing a pair of cut-off shorts and a tiny bikini top that was losing the battle to contain her considerable assets.
“Hi, Trick,” she said, batting her false eyelashes at him.
“Hey, babe,” he greeted her distractedly as he carefully removed the bowls of hot soup and placed them on the counter.
My spine went rigid at the casual use of the very same endearment he had just used with me only seconds before, and I had the sudden, desperate need to be anywhere else but here.
I stood up abruptly. “I’m gonna head back to the room.”
Trick looked up in confusion. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” I said flatly, “I’m just not very hungry after all. I’ll see you later.”
The club girl gloated as I brushed past her and hurried from the kitchen. I slammed the door to the guest suite, startling Elvis who’d been napping on the loveseat.
I was pacing angrily when Trick burst in just seconds later.
“What’s going on? One second, you want lunch, and the next you’re hauling ass out of the kitchen. Was it because DD walked in?”
So that was the infamous DD. Molly had explained once that the woman used her initials as a nickname – initials which just so happened to be the same as her cup size.
“She’s one of the club bunnies, but you don’t have to worry about her.” He had the barest hint of a smirk on his face, which only made me angrier.
“She’s not the problem, you are, babe.”
I continued pacing the length of the small room as Trick eyed me in confusion.
“Those sweet endearments of yours lose their meaning when you use them with every damned woman who crosses your path, as I was just so clearly reminded. Do you even realize that you called both of us babe within the span of ten seconds? Do you understand how disrespectful that felt for you to call me that, and then literally turn around and use the very same endearment with some woman that you’ve obviously fucked in the past?
” My voice took on the slightest hint of a screech, but I couldn’t bring myself to care.
The smirk slowly fell from his face with every word I said, but I was determined to get this off my chest.
“My name is Lauren, not babe,” I emphasized, “and I would appreciate it if you didn’t call former fuck-buddies by any little pet names as long as our arrangement is in place.”
He stared at me for a long moment, then slowly nodded.
“I’m sorry,” he sighed heavily, “I didn’t even realize I’d done it. You’re right, and I get it. I wouldn’t like it if the situation were reversed.”
There was an awkward silence, then Trick asked if I wanted to go back to the kitchen for lunch. Not wanting to see DD again, I declined.