Chapter 9

CHAPTER NINE

Moira couldn’t quite find her tongue. She was the first non-family-female to step foot in Welker’s house? Of course, it was under construction, maybe he…?

“How long, exactly, have you been living here, Welk?” she asked. Moira thought it was a good question, but caught the sly glance exchanged by Callie and Sabira, and knew they saw her inquiry as less than innocent.

“Three months, give or take,” he answered, not clueing in, for which Moira was thankful. “As soon as the weather turned in June, I locked the door to my condo and moved in here.”

“He never had woman at the condo, either,” Sabira added cheekily.

Welker soured in her direction, but his expression toward Moira gave nothing else away. He seemed…curious as to where she was going with this? Was he daring her to rebut what Sabi had said; perhaps call him out on his reputation?

Moira would do neither, since she’d latched onto another piece of information that he’d let slip; one that she deemed far more important, at present.

“You have an empty condo in town that you’re not using?” she challenged. That could be the solution to her living situation.

Welker chuckled, this time figuring her out. “Sorry to burst your bubble, Moira, but it’s been rented.”

Damn. She knew that would have been way too easy.

“Why are you worried about staying here?” Callie asked. “Welk’s got plenty of room, and the security couldn’t be better.”

“Right. About that last thing,” Moira questioned, still not ready to engage about the why’s and wherefores of her comfort-levels. “Why exactly is this place set up like Fort Knox?” The question had actually been bugging her ever since Welker mentioned it.

Three faces shut down.

What the…?

“Did I say something wrong?” Moira asked, puzzled, yet determined to get to the bottom of things.

Callie looked at Welker, whose lips had fused together in a scowl.

Sabira simply shrugged. “Nope. But the answer is Welker’s to share because it’s beyond our paygrade,” she informed, plating up pancakes, bacon, and eggs. “Now let’s eat before our breakfast-for-lunch gets cold. Then we’ll be out of your hair if you two want to share all the things you’re not talking about.”

It looked like Moira had been denied, and clearly she wasn’t going to get the answers now that she wanted about whatever sketchy thing in Welker’s past had made him so cautious. But she’d find out what he was keeping close, even if she had to dish some of her own shit to do it.

The thought of Welker being…afraid of something, didn’t sit well with her. If the man needed back-up of any kind, she’d be there for him. Moira told herself it was because that’s what teammates did for each other, but she knew standing up for Welker went above and beyond duty. There was something in her gut that made her want to champion him. She just wasn’t ready to delve into exactly what that was. At least for the present.

Taking her cue from everyone else, now that food was to be eaten, Moira sat on a stool at the kitchen bar, poured real maple syrup over her pancakes and started in. They were freaking delicious. Due to the amount of time Moira spent trying out recipes, she hadn’t even needed to see Sabira’s use of vanilla, and vinegar-soured milk to taste the hint of those flavors in the fluffy confections.

“Excellent,” she praised, then tried the scrambled eggs. “And the eggs are good, too,” she told Welker.

“My neighbors have chickens,” he explained, while shoveling in his own food. “The fresh ones taste much better than the ones from the market.”

Moira hadn’t known the difference growing up, since everything in her home was store-bought, and not an ounce of love had ever been injected into the process of cooking it by whatever chef ruled the kitchen. That’s probably why Moira had a thing for carefully procuring ingredients, and making her own food. Some things in life deserved to be…special, even if they were for your own, solo, enjoyment.

“I completely agree,” she said. “I make sure to buy local whenever I can.”

“That’s right. You said you like to cook,” Welker probed. “How did you get started on that?”

Moira knew if she wanted communication between the two of them to open up, she’d have to start revealing a little of herself. She drew a deep breath, and even though her stomach lurched a bit at the thought of sharing, she gave it her all.

“The food in my house when I was young, got purchased by the cook and…put together by rote. There wasn’t much of a variation in what the chef-of-the-month could make since my father was a meat and potatoes kind of person. If I wanted anything outside the box, I had to concoct it for myself.”

“Well, that’s a shame,” Callie huffed. “We might not have had a lot of money growing up, but Mom was inventive, to say the least.”

Welker threw back his head and laughed. “Inventive? That’s what you’re calling it?” He snickered, giving Moira the story. “Mom loved to throw things together to see if her guinea pigs—me and Callie—approved or not.” He regarded his sister again. “Do you remember the frosted-flake encrusted steak she baked with honey-mustard glaze and cinnamon?” He rolled his eyes and made a gagging sound.

“I do. But the supper I remember most, the one I had to send into the trash, was the calamari tacos. Chewy and crunchy together did not work, and the lavender cocktail sauce she tried to dress them up with…” Callie stuck her tongue out and grimaced.

Moira and Sabira both laughed.

“That doesn’t sound so bad to me,” Sabi speculated thoughtfully once she’d calmed down.

Callie answered, affectionately, but with a tease. “That’s because you grew up in India, and will eat just about anything.”

Cool .

Moira’s inquisitive brain immediately kicked in, wanting to know more about Sabira’s palate when she was young. “Tell me your favorite foods.”

Twenty minutes later, amidst a lot of moans and groans, but also a lot of “yumms”, Moira had plenty of new ammunition for cooking once she got home, as the four of them companionably cleaned up their current meal.

“I’d be happy to show you how to make a few of the more difficult recipes,” Sabira offered, scraping scraps into the bin. “At least when this whole MC thing has cleared up and you can get back into your house.”

“I might take you up on that,” Moira replied, carrying the syrup and butter to the fridge.

Her continued acquaintance with the female pair depended on how things went here, with Welker. By the time her jeopardy was over, she and Welk might just want to kill each other, and having anything to do with his loved ones would be off the table.

Moira changed the subject as she turned to the sink and began filling it with water, addressing Sabira. “Welk tells me that one of the outbuildings here is going to be your pottery studio?”

The woman lit up, grabbing a dish towel. “It is. I’ve taken a bunch of classes at the local college, and I’m getting pretty good at things, but what I really need is my own space so I can experiment.”

“Don’t let her fool you,” Callie added proudly. “She’s no beginner. Her stuff is fantastic.” Callie walking over to cover Sabira’s hand with her own and gave it a squeeze as she smiled into her wife’s eyes. It was easy to see the love between the two women, and Moira was momentarily jealous as she witnessed the easy affection. When, if ever, would it be her turn to experience that kind of devotion?

She supposed she’d had a taste of it with Jory, but not a full-blown relationship, that was for sure. And now that he had a budding family…

Welker must have noticed her look of yearning.

He snorted as he rested his ass against the counter across from her. “They make it look easy, don’t they?” he posed. “And with so many of our teammates finding significant others, I feel a little left out. I guess you do, too?”

Should she wear her heart on her sleeve, or not? There was a moment’s hesitation as she cleared her throat. “I…”

“Don’t put her on the spot, Welk,” Callie scolded. “Not everybody is looking for a partner, or trolling the waters all the time, like you.”

Is that what Callie called Welker’s catting around. Trolling the waters? Very…sisterly.

“It’s okay, Callie.” Moira chose her words carefully. “I get it. And you’re right. I’m not in the market. I did my share of experimenting in college, and even though I didn’t find that perfect person, I made a few connections for life. One in particular, Jory, lives in California.”

Welker’s face soured. “He’s your…boyfriend?”

If Moira didn’t know better, she’d say he was jealous. But that was ridiculous. He couldn’t be. Maybe his odd attitude was because she’d once had success in the dating department, and he…hadn’t? Perhaps, of all the women Welk had gone through, none had meant enough to him end up as a friend? That was kind of sad.

Moira put Welker’s green-eyed monster to rest.

“He was my boyfriend, but we found out we were really only destined to be buddies. Jory is happily married now, with his first child on the way.”

Welker looked…odd?

Her mind went back to his bedpost and its imaginary notches. His attitude—the way he was looking at her right now like she might just prove delicious—probably stemmed from him not getting laid in a while, and Moira’s new circumstances made her…handy. She’d like to read more into his interest, but despite his teasing, he’d never treated her as anything other than a normal and valued member of his squad. He’d never…

Damn.

Before the doorbell had rung, there had been something in Welker’s eyes. The way he’d stared at her lips… It had been different than anything she’d seen from him before, and she’d be lying to herself if she didn’t admit to having been thrilled at this unaccustomed attention. If Callie and Sabira hadn’t shown up, Moira and Welker might be, at this very moment, entangled on the floor, or engaged on the counter, or?—

Color moved up into her face, and she swung her hair forward to hide it as she scrubbed a dish, then rinsed it.

“You don’t have to wash those by hand, you know.”

Welker had moved sideways, gaining a better vantage point from which to see her face. “The hot water is making you red.”

Leave it to the asshole to call her on her embarrassment. It’s as if he knew where her mind had gone, but that was impossible, right? She needed to poke him back.

“Nope. It’s not the water,” she countered slyly, shaking her head. “I was just thinking of a few things Jory and I used to get up to.”

Lies. The pair of them had met as virgins, and ended as not much more with how they’d fumbled during sex, but Welker didn’t need to know that.

“Oooh,” Callie giggled. “Now we’ll have to go out for drinks some night and do girl talk.”

“Spare me,” Welker grunted.

Moira noted that his lips, normally lush and tipped up into a smile, were tightly clenched.

“That’s exactly what we’re doing,” Sabira put in. “Sparing you. Because I’m sure you don’t want to hear about Moira’s sex-capades. In detail,” she snickered.

“Detail?” he choked.

Callie scoffed. “You don’t for a minute think that the women you sleep with don’t discuss all your…finer attributes with their girlfriends, do you?”

Now it was Welker’s turn to color up.

Moira decided she liked having this girl-posse at her back. She’d never been the best at deflecting, or coming up with smart retorts, but this pair was taking care of business, and it felt awesome.

“You guys are terrible,” Welker grumbled as he walked to the door, then turned back to Moira. “I’ll be waiting outside for you, to head to your house.” He yanked the portal open, then slammed it shut behind him.

Moira looked at Callie, Sabira looked at Moira, and they all cracked up.

“That was so much fun,” Callie chortled. “It’s not often I get to see my big brother flustered.”

Moira’s laughter eventually wound down and turned into a hiccup as she smiled, widely. “You don’t tease him very much?”

“Oh, no. We do,” Callie corrected. “But it normally rolls off him like water.”

“So what was that about, then?” Moira asked, puzzled as she tipped her head and pointed a finger at the door.

“ That , was because of you,” Sabira joined in.

“Me?” Now Moira was really confused.

“Uh, huh,” Callie confirmed with a grin. “Big bro has it bad for you, Moira.”

There was no way…

“Uh, I think you two are mistaken. Welk and I are colleagues, and not even particularly close ones. He treats me like he does the rest of the team.”

She clearly wasn’t discouraging the pair as they beamed.

“I beg to differ. He talks about you more than he does anybody else he works with,” Callie offered.

What?

“No. You’re reading things wrong,” Moira assured them with a shake of her head.

“Are we?” Sabira asked. “Why then, would we know that you’re generally first to every call-out, and that you never take your hair out of its braid? Present situation, the exception,” she clarified, indicating Moira’s fly-away locks.

Moira pondered.

Being first to call-outs wasn’t so unusual. Welker could admire her professionally for that and perhaps mention it in passing. But the braid…?

“Let me ask you something,” Callie asked before Moira could find words. “How do you feel about my brother?”

Moira spluttered. “I, uh, haven’t really thought about it?” Dammit for her voice squeaking, and for her statement inadvertently becoming a question.

Callie rolled her eyes. “Okay. Let me rephrase that. Do you think Welk is cute?”

Moira’s mouth went dry, and she tried to conjure spit, but couldn’t. When she answered, her voice sounded raspy, even to her own ears.

“I, uh, acknowledge that he’s good looking, but so are most of the guys on our team,” she demurred.

“Okay,” Sabira said, pointedly. “How many of them do you stare at when they’re not paying attention?”

Callie piled it on. “And do you glance at their lips while licking yours, like you were all during lunch?”

“That was…the syrup,” Moira lied, then moaned, dropping her head to her hands.

In actuality, she’d had a hard time ignoring Welker’s mouth since they’d come so close to…

Dammit.

These two grinning women had her dead to rights.