Some of the other bikers I’d seen come and go throughout the week had rushed in, grabbed most of the soup, and vanished again.
“I thought you said the soup was for people in town?” I swirled my spoon around the bowl.
The warm fragrance of cooked meat and vegetables caused my stomach to grumble.
Ash chewed a bite of meat and watched me through hooded eyes. “You really think the townspeople are going to comeherefor food?”
When he put it like that…
I sipped the broth off my spoon and continued making slow circles around the rim of the bowl until it made a tinny sound reminiscent of a gong.
I angled a look at Rafe, who sat across from me at the head of the rectangular table. “Why are you so determined to keep everyone, especially the townspeople, at arm’s length?”
Rafe sat with his back straight, elbows on the table, and a large bowl between his broad hands.
Bishop and Ash sat on either side of him, and both men flinched just enough to offer me a warning.
What had I said that was wrong?
I took another slow sip of the flavorful broth.
I’d never made anything like this before, and I wouldn’t have managed this time without Colt’s directions.
He really knew his stuff and had kept me on task throughout the entire process.
It had been nice to joke around with him.
Of all the men I’d met during my time here, Colt felt the most like a friend.
Maybe I could use that to my advantage.
Colt, being the youngest of the group, was also the most vulnerable.
And since Rafe was his older brother, he probably had more insight into what happened behind closed doors.
It was what happened in the warehouses that I needed to find out.
Colt seemed eager to please, and even though I hated using him, I’d do just about anything to keep my job and finally gain the respect of my peers.
I deserved it after all the bullshit they put me through.
Not that they cared.
They were a bunch of egotistical pricks, and I was better off trying to impress a hedgehog than the men who were supposed to be part of my team.
I shoved thoughts of them aside.
I needed to focus on the job and getting Rafe to open up.
If I could get him to trust me, even a little bit, he might give up the necessary information without even meaning to.
I took Rafe so long to respond to my question that I considered asking it again.
Rafe downed a bite of soup and wiped his mouth with the linen napkin I’d set next to his and everyone else’s bowls when I set the table before joining Bishop next to the fireplace.
My gaze shot to him and lingered.
Our time by the fire showed me a depth to Bishop that I’d not expected.
