CHAPTER ONE Maisy

CHAPTER ONE

Maisy

"I need to go," I said to my brother, Dell, practically pushing him out the front door of my apartment. The hot, sticky air of summer in the south rushed in, making me feel like the shower I had thirty minutes ago was pointless. Thank fuck for deodorant.

I had two annoying brothers. But weren't most brothers that way, really? Dell was sitting right at thirty, which was two years older than me. Then there was Cliff, who was about to turn thirty-four, though he acted more like a sullen teen most of the time.

I snatched my purse and keys and followed my brother out. There wasn't a moment of hesitation as I slammed the door behind me before he could say another word. I did my best to lose him by power walking to my car.

No such luck.

I thought I was in the clear as I unlocked my car and opened the door until I saw his mouth open. I was so not in the mood for this today. I was teetering on the edge of running behind. As it was, if I ran into any kind of traffic, I was definitely going to be late. On top of that, I just didn't care to hear what my brother had to say anymore. This was a conversation the men of my family had tried to throw at me over and over again for the last six months since I started working at Iron & Steel.

Yes, it was a bar.

Yes, it was owned by a motorcycle club.

Yes, sometimes things could get a little… rowdy.

But I never felt like I wasn't safe there. While I wasn't part of the Steel Paragons or even in the outer circles of the massive patchwork family they had, I still felt like I was protected while I was under that roof. Most days, that was enough for me. It was a bar job, but it was a good job.

"Just think about it," Dell finally said. Though it sounded like he was giving up, he wasn't. He was the smarter of my two brothers. He knew when to back off before I snapped. "It'll be a good, safe job."

One that I had no interest in taking. Especially since it felt like it was being handed to me, thanks to Dad.

It grated on my nerves, but I didn't want to be mad at Dell. He was here because of our dad. It was always on behalf of Dad. Dell was a decent big brother, but oftentimes that was overshadowed by the way he gave into Dad's manipulation tactics. It was frustrating, and I wished we could just stand up to the man. I wished I could have my life be mine . Wished Cliff would step out from behind Dad's shadow and shine on his own. Wished Dell would break out of the mold and do what he really wanted to do.

Wishing never got me anywhere, so there was no point in wasting time on any of that. It'd been the same most of my life, and I had a feeling it wouldn't change until either Dad or I died. And that wasn't something I saw happening for a long fucking time.

"Yep," I clipped out as I dropped down behind the wheel of my car.

He moved back to let me close the door. With his hands on his hips, he stood there as if he was waiting for me to roll down the window and continue this stupid conversation. I started my car and immediately cringed at a high-pitched squeal that came from under the hood— you know, the part that housed all the stuff that made a car go . I tried not to look at my brother because I didn't need him lecturing me on the importance of car maintenance and repair and yadda yadda. I knew. It was a very recent development that I had planned to get fixed the moment I had some time, which was not today.

"Maisy Jane!" Dell said and I caught him stepping up to my car again. With a huff, I rolled down the window a crack. "Get that looked at."

"Yes, Dad . I'll do it before work tomorrow."

He eyed me, likely trying to see if I was bullshitting or not. Since I told myself I planned to get it looked at in the morning— whether I made it there or not— I must have pulled off a convincing enough look.

"Bye," I said with a little sass as I started to reverse.

He watched as I backed out of the space and was on my way.

The squealing did not go away like I'd hoped it would. At every stoplight, I could feel judgy eyes aimed my way from the cars around me. Whatever. It wasn't like it was their car or their life. Who gave a fuck if I interrupted their music for two minutes of their day? Not me.

I pulled into the huge shared lot and drove between the bar and the mechanic shop the club also owned.

Yeah, I know.

There's a mechanic shop right there. They could fix your car.

Like I hadn't thought of that. It would save me time and maybe even money, but I wasn't the type of person to take advantage. The club members had been nice to me so far, but I wasn't going to overstep… ever. I'd get it fixed, on my own time, by myself.

Two days then I would have a day off. I swore I'd take care of it then because I was sure it wasn't going to happen tomorrow, despite what I told my brother.

My clothes stuck to me as I exited the car, thankful there was no one hanging around the back of the bar. No one to hear the horrible noise my car was making.

It was a few short steps into the bar, and I was instantly blasted with cool air. My hands worked quickly as I tied my hair up in a messy high ponytail. Anything to get it off the back of my neck.

I rushed to the front and clocked in as fast as my fingers would go. I wasn't late! I mentally gave myself a fist bump.

"Hey," Payback greeted me. "Been pretty slow so far."

"You don't say?" I teased, looking around the empty bar. He laughed and shook his head.

It was the hour between grabbing a quick lunch drink and getting the night started with the first round . That time of day when anyone in here was either celebrating something big or currently having the worst day ever. At least there wasn't any sulking currently going on.

"I'll get some fresh citrus up here," I told Payback.

"Good luck back there," he said, his smile sly and knowing.

As far as bosses went, Payback was a good one. He ran the bar while Mad Bell ran the back. I often bounced between the two, filling in depending on what was needed. I did a lot of the prep work and made sure everything stayed stocked, and when it got busy, I hopped in to help serve. It was nice because I never felt like I was stuck doing one thing, and I always had something to do. I wasn't one to sit still.

I didn't need to tell Payback I could handle Mad Bell. He already knew. While most people would get turned off by Mad Bell's surly attitude and shy away from him, I was not that type of person. I wasn't out to make everyone my friend, but I certainly wasn't going to let someone bully me with their attitude in my place of employment. Whether he did it intentionally or not had yet to be determined. I figured he was just naturally grumpy and very anal about his space.

His space? The kitchen. All of it. Even the window that opened into the bar where you'd pass food through.

Oh, and we couldn't forget about his bell. Yes, they had a bell to ding when an order was up.

A smile crossed my face thinking about that bell and how possessive he was about it.

I still had that smile on my face when I crossed into the kitchen.

"Good afternoon, Chef," I called out. Though there was a tone of cheer in my voice, it was never my intent to mock his title, and I think he knew it. Not that he went around using the title himself or making people call him that. I respected the man for what he did. I saw the pride he took in everything he made, even if he did try to hide it from everyone. "Need anything from me?"

He grunted, keeping his back to me. His shoulders went tight under his black shirt and I knew just my tone alone was getting under his skin.

I bit my cheek to hide the sadistic smile. Yeah, he was a cranky antisocial asshole, and I just couldn't help myself when it came to messing with him. It wasn't like he didn't deserve it. And I was never mean .

"I'll take that as a no, Chef Crabby."

He grunted again. Sadly, he was never amused by me.

I got to work on my duties, cutting up shit to restock the front. It was awkward sharing a space with someone and having to pretend you were the only one there. No talking. No singing. No humming— which, okay, humming was annoying, so I couldn't blame Mad Bell for snapping at that one. It sucked being there and feeling alone. I was fine with being alone, but if there was another person around, I didn't understand the point of ignoring them. Why not take advantage and be social? Just didn't make any sense to me. Hello?! You could at least be civil and ask how someone's day is going. Connect, even if it's just surface-level.

Did I care how his day was going?

Eh, maybe. On some level, I did care about him. He was a coworker. I saw him at least five days a week. I even thought about him on the days I didn't see him, but only because I was trying to come up with ways to get under his skin. Crack that outer shell. I was almost positive there was a decent human being under all that irritable attitude.

The sizzle of onions and beef on the grill broke the silence. I began slowly organizing everything to carry out to the front, waiting for the right moment to make my move.

The basket was nearly ready, sitting there waiting for him to add the seasoned fries. I tried to act like I didn't see it. Was I sweating? I think I did perspire every time I did this. It was the thing that really got under his skin. And I couldn't resist.

I knew the routine well by now. I could practically count down the seconds as it played out.

The shake of the bowl. The slide of the fries as they fell out. The crinkle of the checkered paper as it caught the greasy sticks.

I watched from under my lashes as he stalked across the length of the kitchen to the order-up window, his jeans a little too perfectly molded to his nice ass— not that I noticed. Okay, it was hard not to notice.

Go, go, go!

I hugged the containers full of replacement citrus to my hip, leaving me with one free hand. The timing was so perfect I couldn't help but smile. He slid the basket across the metal shelf and I was right behind him.

"I got it!" I said as I hit the ready bell with all my might. It rang out, and I would have sworn I heard Mad Bell's teeth cracking over the sound.

Though I wanted to see the look on his face, I turned on my heels and left the kitchen without so much as a look back. I couldn't let him know that I knew it got under his skin. What would be the fun in that? It irritated him more if he thought I was helping and he couldn't say anything to me about it. At this point, I wasn't even sure how the whole thing started. It kinda felt like we'd been in this dance from day one. Now, we were stuck in this horrible, vicious cycle where I fucked with him and he just took it.

But as I cut behind the bar, I couldn't help but look through to the kitchen.

Mad Bell stood there looking like smoke was coming out of his ears. I could even see how his jaw bulged as he glared back at me. His hazel eyes had fire dancing behind them.

One of these days, he was going to smile. Maybe even just a twitch of the lips. One of these days, he was going to see that it was all fun and games.

One of these days, I'd get that brow to relax. He'd lose the face that either screamed constipated or the look of suddenly not being able to understand English when I talked.

I'd been working with him for six months. One of these days, I was going to make him crack.