“Never knew you were so sweet, Har.”
“That is not me being sweet, babe. We need to get inside. See the damage.”
The prospect pulled up in his car and carried my Instant Pot inside.
“Come on. Hate to tell you this, but it isn’t likely you’re gonna have any leftovers.”
I dug out my stuff, and followed him. “He could put it in your room. I mean, it’s just a pot plugged into a wall outlet. It could easily sit on a dresser or in the bathroom in Sammy’s room.”
He gave me a glare. “You ain’t in Brute’s room.”
I nodded once. “Right. So, the bathroom in your room. I presume you’ve got one.”
He opened the door for me, shaking his head. “Fine, but you’re not gonna make a good impression keeping your food all to yourself.”
The smell of smoke smacked me in the face. Thankfully, the smell dissipated as I followed Har past Brute’s room to the end of the hall. His room had a similar set-up, but with a single king-sized bed. He took my jewelry box from me and put it in a safe which was tucked in a corner.
I set my duffel on the other side of the bed. When he straightened from the safe, he said, “You got more in that box than just some security key, Steph. Don’t know why it’s secret, but I’ll let you have that privacy. Now, do you want to go out and meet everyone? I didn’t get a good look, but it seemed a couple of the sweet-butts’ cars are still here. They can be catty and say shit to rile you up.”
I shrugged. “Guess I’ll come meet everyone. Did the fire get the liquor stash? Or can I get my hands on a cocktail?”
He grinned. “We’ll get you a drink, honey.”
In the hallway, the prospect approached. “Plugged that thing in, but it’s beeping like crazy.”
I smiled. “Thanks. I’ll go take care of it.”
A weighty arm settled on my shoulders before I could step forward. “We’ll go, baby. You’re stickin’ with me for right now.”
I swiveled my head, giving him a confused look but shrugged. “Okey-dokes.”
While I fiddled with the pressure cooker, an older woman with graying brown hair bustled up to Har. “It’s about time you got here. I tell you, I don’t know what’s worse. Some of these damn girls or your men.”
Har sighed. “Sandy. I do not need—”
“I know you don’t need the drama, but it don’t get more dramatic than a bottle of fire comin’ into the clubhouse.”
The uncooperative lid on my cooker kept me busy, but I felt eyes on me, and I looked over my shoulder. Sandy’s face slowly went from outright concern to almost-motherly delight. “Well, no wonder you’ve been scarce, Har.” She smirked before she turned to him. “And it’s about time you found someone worthy of your time.”
“Oh, it’s not like that,” I started, but Har glared at me.
Sandy laughed. “I love it! ‘It’s not like that.’ Honey, who are you trying to fool? Me or yourself?”
“Where is Joules? He needs to get you in line, woman.”
Sandy’s eyes narrowed on him. “Considering it’s his science-minded ass who kept this place from burning to the ground, you need to watch it, mister.”
A stout, burly man with a gray beard hanging to his chest walked into the kitchen. “Do not give my president a hard-time right now, Sandy. We got enough on our damn plate.”
Her angry eyes flashed at him and the tension between them made me fear they’d shout the place down.
“Sandy?” I started, and all three of them looked my way. “I’m Stephanie, it’s nice to meet you.”
She opened her mouth, but closed it and gave me a shrewd smile. “It’s nice to meet you, too. How old’s your Harley?”
Har tilted his head back and spoke to the ceiling. “Fuck. Me.”
Har
HAR WATCHED BRUTE TRUDGE toward the back door carrying a shop vac. “Jesus! I’ve vacuumed for nearly an hour. Why does something still smell?”
Har leaned toward the counter where the pressure cooker sat. “Sure you’re not smelling this?”
Brute looked at it. “What is it?”
“Pot roast.”
“First good news I’ve heard all day. I’m takin’ this thing out to the shed. Then we can eat that shit.”
“You can’t, it’s not finished yet,” Stephanie said, closing the refrigerator door she had been crouched behind.
Brute’s eyes widened at him. “Hell, you brought her here?”
“After what happened the other day, brother, you shouldn’t be surprised.”
“Sorry,” Brute muttered, ambling out the door.
Sandy looked between him and Joules. “Did he just invite himself to your dinner?”
Har shook his head. “Doesn’t matter. Listen, I’m leaving Stephanie with you. Any of the bitches get catty with her, shut that shit down.”
From the corner of his eye he saw Stephanie fold her arms under her tits and affect an angry-woman pose. He ignored it, because otherwise it would turn him on. Sandy looked between the two of them, her face gleeful.
“Michael. I do not need to be left with anyone. I can take care of myself.”
Sandy threw her head back and laughed. “I love this! She calls you Michael and she makes pot roast. Put a cut on her already, Har!”
Brute came back in time to hear that. “You aren’t puttin’ a cut on Stephanie.”
“Oh my God, I need a drink.”
He glared at her. “You drink whiskey sours?”
“I have.”
He looked at Joules. “Bring me two whiskey sours.”
“That’s so sweet of you, tellin’ my old man to bring me a drink,” Sandy said.
Joules sighed. “Woman, you know better.”
He ambled away and Sandy smiled at Har. “It’s all gonna be fine. I know your lady doesn’t need me lookin’ after her, but I’ll step in if Layla or anyone gets feisty.”
Brute stalked over to him. “You may have just got here, but you need to see the damage.”
He nodded and looked at Stephanie, “I’ll be back.”
He followed Brute, but grabbed his drink from Joules when they crossed
