Chapter 4
CHAPTER FOUR
VIKING
“I’ll cook,” Lainey calls out. “At least for tonight. But tomorrow, you’re on.”
“I am?” I look up from my phone.
She smiles as she begins to chop up an onion. I watch her, wondering how the fuck she does that so well. I’m also wondering if I should really cook for her, because the way she is making that onion her bitch, she clearly knows what she’s doing. And I don’t know shit about shit in the kitchen.
“I don’t expect gourmet, but if you’re going to be here, you’re going to need to do something. As fun as it is for me to cook for you while you stare at me, you’ll have to help out.”
I chuckle. “Well, I can tell you one thing for certain. You’re not getting gourmet if it’s coming from me, babe.”
Her lips curve up into a small smile, and I watch her as she continues. I wonder if I should be a smart-ass and tell her that I’m pretty sure my keeping her safe is doing plenty around here. Me making tacos, Hamburger Helper, and grilling burgers a couple of nights a week isn’t going to do shit.
But I decide against it. Because I kind of want to make something for her. I’m not sure why, but I want to take care of her in every fucking way possible. Since I can’t make her come, I’m going to try to cook her a meal.
I know it’s going to be absolutely fucking terrible since I can’t remember the last time I cooked for even myself. And I’m pretty positive that in my forty years of life, I’ve never cooked for another person.
“I’m a shit cook, babe, but I can try to do something.”
She stops midchop, lifting her gaze. Her eyes find mine, and I watch as her lips curve up into a smile. “I’ll take shit cooking or maybe just grill something. It works for me as long as I don’t have to cook.”
“I’ll do the dishes, too.”
Her eyes widen, and her lips part. “Seriously?” she breathes. “You’ll do dishes?”
I laugh. “Yeah. I might not be good for much, but I can rub some soap on a fucking pan and throw some shit in the dishwasher.”
Lainey’s lips twitch into a smirk, and that’s when I lean over the counter slightly. My eyes are on hers. I’m not sure how it happened, but I feel so fucking much for her. Everything, really. And I shouldn’t feel a goddamn thing.
“I get something from the bakery that you don’t give to the shelter, that’s all I want for payment.”
“I can do that,” she replies softly.
Without saying another word, she turns and walks over to the pan on the stove, carrying the cutting board with the chopped onions. She slides them into the pan, and I listen to them sizzle just before the scent of the onions reaches my nose.
Dinner already smells fucking fantastic.
I don’t even know what she’s making, but it smells great. I’m watching her open a package of ground beef when my phone buzzes. Shifting my attention from her to the device, I frown at the sight of the number on my screen.
Fuck.
Standing, I slide my thumb across the screen before I lift it to my ear. “Yeah?” I greet.
I don’t want to let Lainey know who’s on the other end of the phone. I’m not sure why I don’t want her to know; it’s not like I’m going to try and get into her panties anytime soon… or ever. So it probably doesn’t matter, but still, I don’t want to purposely hurt her.
“I was wondering if you were coming back over tonight,” she breathes into the phone.
“I can’t,” I murmur. “I’ll try and hit you up in a few days.”
“I’ll be waiting, naked.”
She ends the call, and I flick my gaze up to Lainey, who is still standing with her back to me, her spine straight. She knew exactly what that conversation was about, and as much as I want to explain myself, I decide against it.
She moves around the kitchen, her spine straight, and the conversation between us is completely dead. I give her a few moments to get over her shit. I keep my gaze on her, then clear my throat before I break the silence.
“So I’ll need your schedule. I mean, I’ve been watching you for a while, so I can assume I know it pretty well, but I need you to sync your calendar.”
“Sure,” she quips.
She turns from the stove only to slide her phone across the counter to me. It’s unlocked, and I press my lips together. She’s clearly pissed. I open my mouth to ask her about it, but again, it doesn’t matter, so I stuff that fucking comment down.
After syncing our calendars, I open her email app and scroll through just to make sure everything is safe. But I’m a liar. I’m being nosy. There’s nothing of interest in her emails, so I touch the photo app and start to scroll through them.
I’m not sure how long I’m focused on the pictures, but it must be a bit too long because the phone is ripped from my hand, and I flick my gaze up to see Lainey standing in front of me. Her eyes are narrowed, her lips pressed together.
“Are you finished snooping?” she asks.
“Just checking to make sure there aren’t any issues.”
She nods once, then slips her phone into her back pocket. “I don’t talk to anyone. I don’t do anything. If there were an issue, I would tell you about it. And today was the first time that man has ever approached me or my shop,” she states.
“Okay, Lainey.”
LAINEY
What an asshole.
Well, really, he’s not. I mean, he is, but at the same time, he’s not. This is on me. Just because I’m in love with him doesn’t mean that he’s in love with me. Just because I don’t have sex with anyone… ever, doesn’t mean he isn’t having sex.
So as much as I want to tell him to fuck off and be angry, I’m not allowed. Even if I feel exactly that way. After layering the meat, noodles, cheese, sauce, and ricotta into the pan, I place it into the oven, then begin to clean the prep dishes.
I feel him walk up behind me as I stand at the sink. Then I feel his fingers curl around my bicep before his lips touch the side of my neck, and my entire body freezes. I feel his lips at the shell of my ear and try as hard as I can not to break out in goose bumps, but fail.
“I’m doing the dishes,” he rasps.
His fingers grip my hips before he gently guides me to step to the side. I do, but not because I want to. I can’t do anything but follow this man’s guidance. I’m not sure how I feel about that, because I think I would do just about anything if he told me to.
And when I say anything, I mean anything.
Which honestly just makes me pathetic, because he’s given me zero reason to be this enamored by him. He’s given me no sweet words, no promises, not even a kiss. Nothing. And yet, I would blindly do anything for him for no other reason than I think he’s hot.
Because it’s not like he wants me back. In fact, it’s the exact opposite. He wants nothing from me. He’s here as a favor to the club, as his duty, and I’m standing around shivering and trembling like an idiot.
Meanwhile, he’s talking to some woman on the phone. I heard her voice, so I know she was a woman, and I know she was very much wanting more of what she’d already had. I could practically hear the yearning in her voice from all the way across the kitchen.
The entire situation is bullshit, and I’ve created some kind of fantasyland thing in my mind. Viking will never want me… he is never going to want me. He’s made it clear, but my stupid brain keeps hoping for more.
There is no more.
Maybe I should just let that guy take me and marry me. What are my other options? I’m thirty-two years old. I haven’t dated anyone seriously in years, and there’s nobody knocking down my door, either.
I’ve been pining after this man, this one man who is gorgeous but doesn’t want me back, and I’ve made it clear that I do want him. So now I’m just being absolutely pathetic. Completely and totally pathetic.
“What would happen…” I begin.
I lean against the counter, watching him wash the dishes. It’s sexier than it should be, him washing bowls and a pan. My breath hitches with my words, because he’s hot but also because I’m kind of afraid to say what I’m thinking.
“What would happen?” he asks, turning his head, his movements frozen.
Inhaling a deep breath, I hold it for a moment before I let it out slowly, a sad attempt to gather my strength, courage, or whatever it is. I need it for the rest of the conversation. But maybe this wouldn’t be a bad thing.
“If I accepted the offer this group made?” I ask.
He drops the item he’s been cleaning, then turns to face me fully, his eyes never leaving mine.
I watch him for a long moment. He doesn’t speak; he doesn’t even blink.
At the end of the day, though, it doesn’t matter what he says, what he thinks.
It’s about me and Axton. It’s about my friends, my family, and their safety.
“You’re shitting me,” he hisses.
I’m not. I don’t say that, though. Instead, I take my phone out of my pocket and find Axton’s name again. The realization that my life is in shambles because I’ve let it become that way has slammed into me.
There is no way around it. Whoever these men are, it’s clear they want something, and they’re becoming braver with each passing day. It is also clear to me that this could benefit the club and my family. And I’m not doing anything with my life aside from baking delicious pastries.
“You’re good?” he demands as his greeting.
“I want to meet with that man. I’ll make the deal.”
The silence is a long one this time, and I imagine my brother’s head is spinning like a cartoon right about now. I bite my bottom lip while I shift my gaze away from Viking to the counter as I tap my finger against it, waiting for my brother to calm down.
He doesn’t, not really.
Instead, he tells me that he’ll be right over and ends the call. Lifting my focus up to Viking, I place my phone on the counter and jut my chin up slightly. I have a feeling I’ve just made a grave mistake, but I’m also never going to admit that out loud.