Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 76798 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76798 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
“He’s got his own business,” Voss said, shrugging. “We all do,” he added.
“Lord knows that’s true,” Nave said, shrugging.
“Does he have his head on right about whatever his business is?” I asked.
“Never known him not to,” Valen said.
Was it just me, or did I detect a false note in his words? Not that he was outwardly lying to me, but that because he didn’t know what was going on, that he was worried his friend might be in over his head?
Nave let it drop. And I did as well.
Outwardly.
In my head, though, it was all I could think about as I ripped out the mint, as I took bushels of it inside to make mint lemonade as a side for dinner.
It was on my mind as I got out ingredients and started to figure out how to work them together to make something edible.
“So, is this some sexist shit, or are you the only one who knows how to cook?” Nave asked, smirking at me from his position leaning in the doorway, his hair still wet from his shower.
Unlike the rest of the guys, Nave went for full-on relaxation-mode when the day’s tasks were mostly done. So instead of slipping back into fresh jeans, he was in a pair of dark gray lightweight sweatpants and a slightly wrinkled—likely from being stuck in his duffel bag—white tee.
“Well, I haven’t really seen anyone else in here,” I said. “And I want to eat, so…” I told him, waving out. “What are you doing?” I asked as he pushed off the wall and moved inside.
“Helping.”
“You cook?” I asked, probably sounding pretty offensive with my tone, but I was too shocked to watch it.
“I do,” he agreed.
“Do you cook-cook, or just throw random shit together?”
“Baby, I can rock your tastebuds,” he told me with a devilish little smirk. “My old man was the clubhouse cook most of the time,” he reminded me.
“Oh, right. Okay. Well, what are we making?” I asked. “I haven’t hit the store in a while, so we are running on fumes when it comes to ingredients.”
“There’s plenty here,” he assured me as he started rearranging the supplies. “Especially if we have any rice or pasta around here somewhere.”
“That is something we never really run out of,” I said, going into the pantry to grab some.
We were still working side-by-side a solid forty minutes later when Valen finally rolled back into the clubhouse.
He was starting to look a little rough.
Despite his bunk being quiet at night, he looked like he hadn’t been sleeping. He was kind of pale, making those smudges under his eyes stand out. It looked like he hadn’t bothered to shave in days, either.
It was more than that, though.
His posture was off.
There was just something… beaten down about him.
Where was he slinking off to?
What was he doing?
What the fuck was going on?
Clearly, it couldn’t be good if he was stressing about it. Why wouldn’t he bring someone else in on it then? At least Voss. As much as I didn’t like the idea of him keeping shit from a whole club who would be happy to help him, I would feel a little better if I knew Voss was on his side. Especially after hearing the stories about how crazy the guy was.
Valen jolted backward at seeing Nave and I working side-by-side near the stove.
Was I imagining his jaw going tight?
No.
I knew him too well to miss a tell like that.
His jaw absolutely tightened. And his shoulders squared up a bit too.
“Good timing,” Nave said, pulling the towel off his shoulder to wipe his hands. “Dinner is almost ready.”
To that, Valen gave him a nod.
“I’m taking a shower,” he declared before turning and walking out.
“You know, didn’t know him that well back in the day, being older, but was he always a dick?”
“No,” I said, shrugging. “I think he’s just been in a mood for a few days,” I told him. “I’m going to go tell everyone dinner is ready,” I declared.
I did just that, as quickly as I could, before making my way back to our room.
“Just gotta throw my phone on the charger,” I told Voss as he was making his way to the door. “Make sure you save a plate for me,” I added, making my way toward my bed.
As soon as he was gone, I listened to hear the water from Valen’s shower before rushing over toward his bed to look for his phone.
Not finding it there, I made my way into the section of the bathroom between the two separate shower rooms.
There it was.
On the sink vanity.
Just asking to be gone through.
Swiping the screen, I found that Valen wasn’t a fingerprint or pattern type of guy.
Nope.
He had a number passcode.
Sometimes, knowing someone really well had its perks. But when his birthday, his sister’s, and his parents’ didn’t work, I got desperate enough to try it.