Chapter 46

Kayla & Nicholas

Kayla

I woke up the next morning to find myself alone as usual. I was pretty sure that Nicholas had spent the night in his office again, but when I padded down the hall and peeked inside, he wasn’t there.

With a sigh, I made my way down to the kitchen. Jade was already there, the smell of coffee wafting through the room.

“Pancakes?” she asked without looking up as I entered.

“No, thanks.” I walked over to the coffee maker and poured myself a cup, adding a healthy dose of flavored creamer for good measure.

“Nicholas has been in a mood all morning,” she said, glancing at me over her shoulder. “Not that it’s all that unusual for the moody bastard, but it’s worse than usual. Did you two argue or something?”

I hesitated, staring into my coffee. Truthfully, I’d been up most of the night thinking about the events at the birthday party. I kept wondering if I had been too harsh. And maybe I had been. Not that it excused his constant teasing.

“Not exactly,” I finally said, which was only half true.

Jade raised a brow, clearly not buying it. “Uh-huh. Well, whatever it was, he’s been out in the garage grumbling to himself for hours. You might want to… I don’t know, fix it? He’s insufferable when he’s like this.”

I sighed, setting my mug down. As much as I didn’t want to admit it, she had a point. Maybe I had been a little too harsh last night. It wasn’t like he deserved my sympathy, but the memory of his expression when I’d called our brief tryst in the hotel a ‘mistake’ did make me feel a little… guilty.

After all, if it weren’t for that chance meeting, we would never have met. And he wouldn’t have been able to help me save my pack.

“Fine,” I muttered. “I’ll try.”

Cooking something for him felt like the best way to extend an olive branch. I wasn’t exactly a genius in the kitchen, but I knew how to make one thing well: my mom’s famous cornbread casserole.

It was comforting, warm, and filling, exactly the kind of thing someone in a sour mood needed. Within an hour, the smell of baked cheese and cornbread filled the house, and I carefully plated a serving.

Balancing the plate in one hand, I pushed open the door to the garage and stepped inside. The scent of motor oil and grease hit me instantly, along with the faint sound of Nicholas muttering curses under his breath across the room.

Approaching quietly, I saw that he was hunched over a sleek black motorcycle, his hair falling into his eyes as he worked. Tools and engine parts were scattered across the workbench, and behind him, a row of pristine motorcycles gleamed under the fluorescent lights.

This was the first time I’d been in here, and I hadn’t realized how much his collection mattered to him until now. He had mentioned it before at the motorcycle show, but I hadn’t seen it in person yet.

Suddenly, Nicholas let loose a rather colorful curse word. A moment later, a rogue wrench went flying over his shoulder, straight toward me.

“Hey!” I yelped, narrowly dodging the tool before it took both me and the casserole out.

Nicholas jerked upright at the sound of my voice, smacking his head against the underside of the motorcycle. “Fuck—Shit!”

The bike shifted precariously as he scrambled to his feet, and I watched in horrified fascination as he reached out just in time to keep it from tipping over completely. He turned to me, breathless, his face red from exertion—or maybe embarrassment.

“It’s not funny,” he growled when he saw my hand covering my mouth to stifle a laugh.

“It’s a little funny,” I admitted, stepping closer and holding out the plate. “Here. Peace offering?”

…

Nicholas

I eyed the plate suspiciously as I pressed my palm into the stinging spot on my scalp where my head had collided with the motorcycle. “It’s not poisoned, is it?”

Kayla rolled her eyes, a gesture that was quickly becoming a permanent feature on her face. “No. Just take it.”

I set the bike upright, brushing off my hands before accepting the plate. The warm, cheesy smell hit me immediately, and my stomach growled in response. I hadn’t eaten yet today, and it made my mouth water.

“Huh,” I muttered, sitting down on an overturned crate. “Didn’t think you could cook.”

She snorted, picking up the wrench I’d tossed earlier and turning it over in her hands. “Don’t get used to it. This is a one-time thing.”

I smirked, scooping up a bite of casserole and letting the flavors settle on my tongue. Damn. It was good—better than anything I’d eaten in weeks. But of course, after last night, I couldn’t let her know that.

“Not bad,” I said begrudgingly.

Kayla wandered around the garage, her fingers brushing over the polished handlebars of one of my bikes. “So, this is your collection?” she asked over her shoulder. “You weren’t kidding when you said you were into motorcycles.”

“Yeah.”

“Is this the new one?” she asked, turning to the son of a bitch I’d just been working on.

I let out a low groan. “Yep. It’s got a problem I can’t seem to fix.”

Kayla raised an eyebrow, leaning over to inspect the bike. The hem of her shirt rode up, exposing a sliver of toned stomach that made me swallow harder than I’d like to admit. I looked away quickly, focusing on the plate in my hands.

Pain in the neck of a woman, I thought to myself, watching her toss the wrench between her hands like she knew what she was doing.

She was always pushing me away, always fighting with me. And then she turned around and did sweet, thoughtful things like cooking a meal for me.

It was infuriating. Confusing. And most of all, I wasn’t used to women acting like this around me.

Most of the time, they were eager to fall into bed with me and then expected me to dote on them afterward. But Kayla was… different. She messed with my head, and I think she enjoyed every second of it.

“You don’t know anything about engines,” I finally said, a smirk curling at the edges of my lips as I watched her hum to herself while leaning over the bike.

She shrugged, unbothered. “Not yet. But I could learn.”

Her response caught me off guard. Something about her willingness to learn more about my hobby softened the irritation I’d been holding onto all night and all this morning.

“Well,” I said after a moment, scooping up the last bite of casserole and setting the plate aside—I could have licked the plate clean, it was that good— “if you want to observe, you’re welcome to. But I’m not babying you.”

“I never asked you to baby me,” she quipped, her lips twitching into a faint smile.

I shook my head, smirking despite myself. She had a way of disarming me when I least expected it. I picked up the engine part she had been fiddling with, our fingers brushing briefly as she handed it to me. A spark shot up my arm at the contact, but I ignored it, focusing instead on the bike.

For the next hour, we worked together in companionable silence. I barked out the names of tools, and she handed them over without complaint. At some point, I caught her watching me intently, her brow furrowed in concentration as I explained the inner workings of the engine.

She wasn’t just pretending to listen. She was actually paying attention.

By the time we were done, it felt… easy. Comfortable. Like we were…

Friends.

It was a strange feeling, and I wasn’t sure what to make of it. I wasn’t used to this. With other women, there was always an agenda—either mine or theirs. Hell, I’d never really even considered becoming friends with a woman.

But it didn’t feel like that with her. Sure, we pissed each other off, but at the same time, I think we enjoyed each other’s company.

“Here,” I said, stepping back and gesturing for her to sit on the bike. “You do the honors.”

Her eyes lit up as she climbed onto the seat, and I couldn’t help but smile as she turned the key in the ignition. The engine roared to life, the sound filling the garage, and she grinned up at me like a kid with a new toy on Christmas morning.

I grabbed a helmet from the shelf and tossed it to her. “Shall we take her for a spin?”