“Nothing to tell.”
“Bullshit.”
Celia holds my eyes for a few beats, then decides to tell the story. Rapt, I listen until she says, “And that’s how they finally took me seriously.”
After a beat I blurt an angry, “How could anyone not take you seriously?”
She flashes a smile. “You’ve come to the party late.”
“I don’t care when I’d come. I’ve never seen anyone like you.”
“Sofia’s much more fierce than I am.”
“Well no doubt!” I shift in my chair so fast the coffee sloshes. Dropping it on the table I meet her hurt look. “You’ve got something that’s all yours! Don’t compare yourself to anybody. You’ve got so many layers I don’t think I’d ever be done getting to know you, no matter if we lived to two hundred!” Her mouth goes slack, but I’m not done. Leaning forward I hold her warm brown eyes. “Your softness is your strength. And if you’re worried about being too soft, look at this bruise right here. And this cut. And this one. And have you seen my fucking thighs lately? Or my shins? Want me to drop my pants right now, because I will!”
Laughing she waves for me to sit back down. “Okay! Okay, stop it!”
Plopping back into the chair I adjust my shirt and mutter, “Take a look in the mirror sometime would ya? You’re a badass. And not only that, you’re so beautiful you hurt my eyes.”
Celia stares at me, surprised.
I keep my cool, hold her look.
Stuttering she rises. “I…I uh…I told Sage I had to…”
“Yeah, sure. I’ll talk to you later,” I mutter, gaze shifting to the view.
She hurries into the house.
CHAPTER 12
SEAN
J ett grumbles his way down the back porch steps, the world cast with a blue hue from dawn’s yawning light. “How the hell did you beat me to morning? I’m always up first.”
I finish the last three pushups to meet my goal, and leap up to standing, brushing dirt from my hands. “Didn’t like the day off yesterday. Felt I was slipping.”
Grey eyes slide toward the house. “Coffee’s not made yet. Want some?”
“Yeah, sure,” I casually shrug when inwardly I’m excited to spend time alone with the man. I like how easy going his power is. How respectful, even playful, he is with the members of his club. He doesn’t throw his ego around, though it’s strong enough to keep a wild bunch of animals like this family at heel. That’s some feat.
Jett gives the screen door a back kick to throw it open for me to catch. My chewed up fingers wrap around it with the precision of blocking a punch. Impressed with my improved reflexes I mutter, “Nice,” and follow him.
“You’re learning quickly,” he notes, pulling out two filters and a huge bag of whole beans, Sumatra dark blend. “Training so many days in a row will do that. The muscles want to work. You’re making them happy.”
As I lift the coffee grinder’s lid and slide the appliance to him, I agree, “That’s why I couldn’t sleep. My body was wondering what the fuck I was doing in bed. Like I had to work out.”
He nods and turns the thing on, waits while it wakes the whole first floor. Glancing to me he shuts it off, pours the grounds into an industrial-sized coffee maker. “You’re wondering why I don’t just buy them pre-ground. Go ahead and fill this with some water, would ya?” While I go to the clean sink, he explains, “My brother Jaxson, he’s the oldest. My best friend. Well, outside of my wife…and Honey Badger, the stubborn jackass. Anyway, growing up, Jaxson and I were the greatest. Raised hell all through school. Gave our younger brothers a ready-made reputation of pure shit,” he chuckles, watching me pour water into the coffee maker. Switching the button and adjusting the big pot Jett continues, “Jaxson’s got this thing about using a French Press. Coffee beans shiny as you can get them. Ground fresh every morning. He has a ranch an hour north of Atlanta. His son Ben is just a mile away from that. If they could grow their own beans they would, but their focus is on other things I guess.” His eyes have love in them, and it’s interesting for a guy like me to see. You can be as masculine as any man out there, yet still have a heart.
“You can’t do the French Press with this many people.”
Jett glances to me. “That’s right! Bunch of caffeine addicts like this would fight over the pots. I tried it once.” At my raised eyebrows, Jett cracks his knuckles on a smirk, “Jaxson bought me one for Christmas one of the first years I joined the club. You should have seen how much shit I got for that! Hell, we drink beer out of cans for fuck’s sake! In Atlanta—my blood family—they only drink local craft beers in the bottle or draft. Glass doesn’t fuck with the taste like aluminum does—all that snooty nonsense.” Jett tosses up the bag of whole beans, catches it and locks eyes with me. “But I won in the end.”
Smiling I jog my chin to the large sack as he pours more into the grinder. “You got them to go for the freshly ground good stuff.”
“That’s right. Melodi helped me since her taste buds are unsurpassed, and she wanted the good stuff to feed her caffeine addiction. We secretly served it four days in a row, got them used to the richness without them knowing what we were doing. Then we switched to the crappy kind and they did this.” He makes a disgusted face, mimics them asking, “What the hell is this shit? What happened to the good coffee? Boy, I jumped on them! It was the fresh ground whole Sumatra beans you dumbasses! Told you it was worth the two seconds it takes to blend it!”
“How’d you sneak it by them, though?” I grin. “That sound! It’s not subtle.”
“Oh
