“What does it matter?I'm not allowed to make what I want, Storm.You know that.I get to cook stew, meatloaf with potatoes, chili, sloppy joes, and tacos.If I'm really lucky, I get to make soup.”
“Humor me.Tell me three meals you’d like to cook.”I eye her as I continue cutting the carrots into slices for the stew.
“Chicken pot pie.”She takes a second to keep thinking.“Fried rice with egg rolls and chicken… and… stir-fry.”
“So, why can't you make those?”
“Because every time I try to cook something different, someone complains and I get told to stick to the oldies but goodies.It was a waste of my time going to culinary school.I should’ve taken over the bar like Roxy did.Or asked to run the shop like Oakley does.Anything would be better than being stuck in this kitchen day in and day out cooking things I hate.You’re all so predictable.Even the two days a week I don’t have to cook, you all eat burgers and hot dogs.There’s no variety!You’d think for a bunch of men who can't commit to a relationship, you wouldn’t want to commit to the same food every week.”
“Who says I can't commit to a relationship?”I arch a brow.
“Well, you’re not in one.”She gives me a ‘duh’ look.
“Just because I'm not in one doesn’t mean I couldn’t be.”
“Then why aren’t you?”
“I’d have to find someone I want to be with.That’s not exactly easy.Andshe’d have to want to be with me too.Which makes it even more difficult.”
“Oh, please.I'm sure you’d prefer to stick with the bike bunnies.”She rolls her eyes.She does that a lot around me.
I almost want to laugh at her term bike bunnies.Roxy, Oakley, and Dixie started calling the girls who hung around the club hoping to sleep with one of the members’ bike bunnies.We’ve tried so many times to tell them that isn't what they’re called, but they insist on using the name.They say they like it better.
“I don’t touch the bike bunnies,” I mutter under my breath.
I see she thinks very highly of me.There’s no chance of her seeing me as anything more than a player.
You can't have her anyway.
The voice in the back of my head reminds me of the one thing I like to forget.No matter what I do, Dixie can never be mine.
Chapter 8
Dixie
“Idon’ttouchthebike bunnies,” he mumbles under his breath, almost like he’s talking to himself and his words aren’t for me to hear.
My brows tug together as a frown takes over my face.There’s no way he doesn’t touch them.He doesn’t date and I’ve never seen any other women around him.
“What are you talking about?”I ask slowly.
“It doesn’t matter.Just forget it.”He shakes his head, his full focus on the vegetables he’s cutting up faster than I anticipated him being able to do it.“What is all the dough for?”He nods in the direction of the bowls.
“Sourdough bread.I’m thinking of making soup tomorrow so I figured some bread would go well with that.”
“You make the bread?”His gaze snaps up to meet mine and his brows are raised in surprise.
“Yeah… Who did you think made it?”
“I don’t know.I guess I thought you bought it from the store.I didn’t realize you made it.”
“I make everything from scratch.Except pasta.I don’t have time for that, especially for a bunch of smelly bikers who won't appreciate it.”
“Will you…” Storm trails off and shakes his head.I wait for him to continue, but he doesn’t.
“Will I what?”
“Nothing.It’s stupid.Don’t worry about it.”Heat travels up his neck and spreads across his cheeks.
