CHAPTER EIGHT Maisy

CHAPTER EIGHT

Maisy

"What the fuck?!" Mad Bell roared. "This sure as hell isn't right. I didn't order this much."

It was delivery day and Mad Bell was at the back door dealing with it.

I ducked my head and bit my lip. Even though he was around the corner and couldn't see me, I still tried to play it cool.

"No," he barked. I could just picture him standing there. His face was likely red, and smoke was probably coming out of his ears because he knew that was not what he put in for the order. His prominent brow would be furrowed in frustration and confusion.

"What did you do?" Payback asked me. I sliced down on a lemon with more force than needed. I was seriously about to crack up laughing. I didn't dare look at him or the prospect that was working behind me.

Since I couldn't talk, I set down the knife and wiped my hands on the towel hanging from the side of my apron, then I pulled out my phone and brought up the email thread.

I stood there with my head bent waiting to see if he would scold me, fire me, or… pat me on the back.

"It's for charity," I pointed out with a smile that was far too saccharine to be believable on me. "And LT is on board." I did manage to talk to him after I'd impulsively signed the bar up for the event. He looked amused when I told him and said he'd wait until I broke the news to Mad Bell before he said anything to anyone.

"I…" Payback shook his head, shock written all over his face. "I have no clue what to say to that. I've got to call Wrench and Cat. They're gonna love this. I can't believe… this is…"

He walked off still shaking his head. Clearly, I'd made him speechless with my… brilliancy? Stupidity? Yeah, that last one. It looked like I was all on my own. I supposed I couldn't blame him.

"Just so you know, this club is all about charity," the prospect said as he continued to wipe down the walls.

"Really?" I turned toward him.

"Yeah," he kept his head down as if he wasn't supposed to be talking about this with an outsider like me. "A bunch of them go up to the children's hospital at least one weekend a month and hang out with the kids. They read and play games and stuff. And since I've been around, they've had three charity runs. It brings in good money and exposure for the groups they support. And that's not all." He shrugged, leaving me to think he wasn't going to tell me anything else.

I hadn't meant it as an insult. I mean, sure, I didn't know the club did things for charity. I guessed I hadn't really thought about it either way. I only figured the fact that Chili for Charity was a good cause would be the one reason Mad Bell couldn't get upset and refuse to do it. Was it shitty? Okay, yeah, I could see how it was. Could I take it back now? No, and I wasn't sure I wanted to. Mad Bell needed out. He needed a change of scenery. He needed… oh, I don't know. Something? I really didn't have a clue what my end goal was here.

I briefly wondered if I'd gone too far.

"Bullshit you confirmed this. If you had—" Mad Bell was getting worked up. I cringed, feeling a little guilty.

"I have it right here," Sam, the delivery guy, cut in weakly. A beat went by before he squeaked out a terrified "Sorry."

I kinda felt bad for him, but there was no way I was going to jump in and save him. In fact, I was trying to be as nonexistent as I could be.

Sam cleared his throat nervously. "It was confirmed by Maisy Abbott."

Shit! I had forgotten I had given them my name when I called to change the order. Yep, I was caught. I had nowhere to go where he wouldn't see me, not unless I wanted to crawl through the service window that led to the bar area.

Dead silence rang through the air. Though if anger could put off an alarm sound, I was sure that was what I would have been hearing.

"Dipshit Dishwasher!" Mad Bell roared, finally breaking the silence.

The prospect's long legs took him out of the kitchen and down the hall like lightning. Unfortunately, it wasn't fast enough for me not to catch the look of frustration he shot in my direction before he rounded the corner.

Laughter rose up from the front of the bar, I turned my head to see Payback talking to some of the brothers who'd stopped by for a late lunch. I'd bet they all were having a good ole time gossiping about what I'd done.

"Fuckin' handle this," Mad Bell barked at the prospect, or so I assumed.

"There's a lot," the prospect said. His voice was surprisingly calm and even. "Where am I supposed to put it all?"

"Find somewhere," Mad Bell growled.

Something about the low vibration of the growl had me very confused. On the one hand, my body was reminding me it had been far too long since I relieved some stress— solo or otherwise. On the other hand, that growl meant that he was pissed. Fear shot up my spine, and the urge to run and hide clawed at my insides.

"You," he seethed, pointing an angry finger my way. "Office. Now."

He was pissed. Really, really pissed.

As I worked my way back to the office, I tried to convince myself that it was okay. That I could fix this. All I had to do was explain why there was extra food.

Which meant that I'd have to explain what I'd signed him up for… without his permission or knowledge.

Fuck!

I squeezed my eyes shut as I stepped forward to head to the office.

The prospect gave me a sympathetic look as I headed down the hall. Everything felt like I was underwater or moving in slow motion. It didn't feel real. My mind raced as I thought of what exactly I was going to say. And by that, I meant how I was going to get out of this.

Stepping into the office, I closed the door. It was best to muffle the yelling that I knew was coming. I only hoped he wouldn't try to kill me. Closing the door made it harder for anyone to realize what was happening, and then no one would come to my rescue.

He stood there with his back to me, hands on his hips. His whole body seemed to expand with a deep breath that I prayed would to be a calming one for him.

"The fuck. Is. This?" he asked, really punching the last word.

"Okay, so here's the thing—"

"Fuckin' hell, Maisy," he said, spinning in my direction, his legs closed the distance between us in the blink of an eye. We would have been nose to nose if he didn't have a good half a foot on me. As it was I had to tilt my head back a little to hold his raging gaze. "I came here to simplify my life. I earned my place in this club, and I'm proud of where I am. They gave me a kitchen to work in, which is more than I ever dreamed of. They don't ask much of me. They respect my fuckin' boundaries. And up until eight goddamn months ago, I didn't have much to complain about. But now, I fuckin' hate being at the one place that gives me a sliver of peace and happiness."

I swallowed hard and dropped my gaze.

It was clear I was the thing that had come into his life and made it miserable.

Wait, what? The fuck?! I wasn't one to drop my gaze.

Hearing him talk like that made me feel bad. Really bad. I hadn't realized I made his life hell. Still, that didn't mean I was going to shrink away from this confrontation.

As I raised my eyes back to meet his, my spine lengthened, cutting the inches between us as much as possible. He was so close. His breaths hit the side of my face. His heaving chest brushed against my boobs, making my nipples perk up with excitement because they thought something else was going on. His salt and lemon deodorant filled my nose.

Everything snapped for me at that moment. The fantasies I had of this man when I was unconscious in my bed came rushing to the surface, like the dirty little secrets that wouldn't stay buried.

Had he always smelled so good? And that raw manliness, had that always been so strong? Have his lips always looked so—

"Daisy!" he barked, causing me to jump and fall back against the door with a thud. Calling me the wrong name was just the dig I needed to pull me back into reality. "The hell is wrong with you?"

How did I even think we were having a moment there?

Of course this man didn't want to kiss me. No way in hell. Right now his face and body language said he wanted to murder me. Possibly bite my face off in an animalistic rage. But not kiss, definitely not.

What was wrong with me?

There must have been something really fucked up with me if I was thinking about kissing the man who looked as if he wished I'd never come into his life.

Fuck, I needed to get laid. It had been way too long. Or I needed a better vibrator since it was less hassle that way.

"I signed the bar up for the Chili for Charity at the park next weekend," I said, my posture and face daring him to keep yelling at me.

"You—" He paused, brows pulling together in confusion as if he couldn't comprehend what I'd said. "What?"

He pulled back a fraction of an inch, looking as if he didn't quite know how to respond.

"It's Tuesday," he said. Yeah, I knew what day it was. The day after Monday. The day the delivery came.

"Uh, yeah." I nodded.

"This weekend? You expect me to be ready to do some kind of cooking event by this weekend?" He paused. I shrugged. "And you're just now telling me about it?"

"Well, I kind of thought it would be a good—"

"Save the bullshit," he snapped. There was a beat or two that passed in silence. "For charity?"

"Yeah. The money goes to a non-profit organization that helps make sure kids in lower-income families get food during the summer break from school."

The look of confusion slid off his face, leaving behind a flat, blank mask. Even his eyes were a bit dead.

"Fucked up and too fuckin' far, Maisy."

I felt scolded, but I couldn't exactly say he was wrong.

Why had I signed him up for this again?

When Stella had talked about it, Mad Bell came to mind and I guessed I just ran with it. His chili was a hot seller at the bar. The club members came in for it all the time, and I'd seen some of their faces as they ate it. I might have also been in love with how it smelled before he added the beef— which, oddly enough, he cooked separately and then added after the base had been simmering for an hour. There were times I wished I could have secretly grabbed a taste before he ruined it by putting dead animal in the mix, but he was always around and I was too into this fun hate game we had going to break down and ask for some. I was worried it would give him a big head.

His chest heaved and pushed into mine, which only reminded me of how close we were.

I felt trapped. He was too close and the door gave me no room to back up. I slid to the side before turning my back on him. I need air.

"I'm sorry. I thought it would be a good thing for the club and the bar," I tried to explain, but I wondered if that was the real reason.

How did I explain that I thought he might want to share his pride and joy with people outside this little circle he lived in without making it seem like I cared? Yeah… no, not going to do that.

"You complicate my life in ways that make me dread waking up." He tossed the words out without any emotion behind them, which somehow made it worse. He walked out, taking all the air with him.

I was close to crying.

I'd gone too far, but he'd returned that serve even harder. An emotional blow that cut deep.

I'd say Mad Bell won this round.

I wondered how much the next few days was going to suck. Was there even a way I could fix this? Make it up to him? I knew it was too late to back out.

I'd seen him make his chili enough to know what he put in it. If I got a look at his little recipe notebook, I might be able to break down his cipher and figure out the amount of herbs and spices he used. And yes, I knew about the coded notebook. No, I did not find it absolutely adorable.

But would that really help me?

Fuck. I realized I needed Mad Bell. There was no one else who could do this, not even Roadkill, who likely knew more about how Mad Bell made the chili than I did.

Yep, I fucked up, and I was going to spend the rest of the day figuring out how I could fix it.