She doesn’t look up when I sit down and quietly pull out my sandwich. I realize that she’s working on a sketch of her cat. It’s curled up tight with its fluffy tail wrapped around its body.
I hadn’t realized how talented she is. I spend my entire lunch break watching her complete that sketch. As much as I need the help, it’s clear to my eyes that her real talent is being wasted at this shop.
Chapter 8
Jules
I’ve been working at the gun shop for coming up to two weeks now, and I’ve learned that Flint closes up the shop early sometimes. Today was one of those days. He also likes to throw steaks on the grill and kick back with a cold beer. I’m there for all of it; except I drink wine coolers. We sit on the patio and unwind after a long week. Friday evenings are everything.
When he carries the steaks out to the grill, I follow, because watching Flint cook has become one of my favorite things. He opens the lid to the preheated grill and gently lays our marinated steaks onto the grill with a pair of metal tongs.
“Your club meeting didn’t take very long this afternoon,” I say, just to make conversation and show that I’m interested in his life.
“Jasper wanted us to vote on new patches. That’s a sore spot with me after what they did to Tommy.”
“I know the two of you wanted to be in the same club, but I talked to him on my lunch break for a few minutes. He is having the time of his life being Mica’s road captain. He seems to really fit in at Raging Vultures.”
“I’m glad to hear that. He’s been putting some distance between me and him. I think he just wants a clean break until he gets established in his new club.”
When I don’t immediately answer, Flint moves on to another topic.
“How was your afternoon? Did anything interesting happen at the shop while I was out?”
“Pete came back while you were out.”
“Old Pete, or Redheaded Pete?”
“Redheaded,” I say.
“What? That’s what, three times this week? What the fuck did he want this time?”
“He keeps talking about his soon-to-be ex-wife a lot. I think he’s just lonely. He needs a therapist. The problem is I’m not one.”
“Stop being so fuckin’ nice to him. Next time, send him to me. I know how to handle Pete,” Flint says irritably.
“If by handle Pete, you mean glaring until he remembers he came in about a gun, sure.”
Flint’s irritation is replaced with a tiny self-deprecating half smile. He’s become more relaxed around me, laughs easily, and has even been known to crack a joke or two on occasion.
“You’ve got a growing fan club,” he mutters.
“Jealous?” I tease, though I do wonder by his response if he really is jealous. Something about that makes my heart flutter.
He chooses not to respond, but when he turns the steaks, the scent coming off the grill makes my stomach growl. “How long until they’re finished?” I ask.
“About twelve more minutes. Want to grab the salad out of the fridge?”
“Yes, of course,” I tell him, jumping to my feet and rushing inside. I grab more drinks for the two of us.
I head inside and grab what I prepped earlier and come back out with plates and the bowl. He’s already pulled the steaks and is leaning against the railing, watching the sunset.
I put everything on the table, then pause to look at him. It’s something I can’t help doing since moving in with him. I’ve had a huge crush on him for most of my teen years, but living in his house and watching him in moments like this, in a tight T-shirt, jeans hung low off his hips, and bare feet, really gets to me. I’m twenty-two. I’ve been in love with him since I was fifteen. I want what I can’t have with this hot biker.
“You’re staring at me again, Jules.”
“I’m enjoying the view,” I lie shamelessly.
He jerks his chin towards the horizon. “The sunset is over there.”
