Page 43 of Bound By Temptation

“Gizmo. Come on, girl. I need to go murder someone going through my stuff,” she yelled out the door as I heard barking coming closer.

I chuckled. Finding pasta, a can of tomato sauce, and an array of spices, I went on the hunt for pans. Every time I opened another cabinet, I smiled. Everything: plates, cups, and bowls were in bright mix-matched colors that went together so perfectly you’d never know they weren’t an actual set. At least to me. I was used to paper plates and red Solo cups.

Finding the two pans I needed, one purple and the other teal, I got to work.

“What are you doing?” The voice came from right behind me over my shoulder.

“Cookin’ you dinner.”

She shook her head. “No. You’re not. I’m not hungry.”

I leveled her a look. “You’ve busted your ass all day, and probably this week, helpin’ out my club. So I’m cookin’ you dinner. Sit down, pet your dog, and chill the fuck out.”

She wanted to respond, and before her brain could catch up with her actions, her stomach growled, giving her completely away.

I pointed the newly found aqua spatula at her. “See, that’s what I mean. Sit. Relax.”

“How do you know how to cook? If you’re makin’ pasta, I don’t have any marinara sauce.” She sounded further away. I looked up to find her sitting at the small island off to the side of the kitchen area. It had four chairs that all butted up to it. They gave a view of the kitchen and of the tall windows. It was a really peaceful scene.

“I’ll make the sauce. Don’t have much fresh but I’ll make do.” There was only dried basil and oregano, but it’d be okay.

“Who taught you to cook?”

Normally this small talk bullshit would be a real turnoff. Hit it, get it. Done.

This was totally different, though. This was Indie. I wanted her to know me. Not Ax the biker. But Ax the man, who I was now. Dad always said the man and the biker were one in the same, but even with him I saw a difference between the two. When he was with Mom, it was like his world lit up. When he was a biker, he was badass. There was a thin line between the two. But it was there. That small softness he allowed in for her.

I’d never let anyone that close.

I began breaking up the meat I just dropped in the pan, hearing it sizzle. “My mom. She said that every man should know how to make at least seven meals.”

“Seven? Why seven?”

I continued breaking up the meat and giving it a stir. I moved to the drawers, searching for a can opener. “One full week. Just because a woman marries you, doesn’t mean she’s gonna cook for you. She always said we needed to be prepared for that shit.”

Indie chuckled, and I turned to look. Her laugh was beautiful. Her little Gizmo sat in her lap, loving getting rubs.I hear ya, buddy.I’d like a few rubs from her myself.

“She also said that a woman didn’t want to cook all the damn time and her boys wouldn’t be the men who demanded food on the table at a specific time. So, she taught us if we were hungry, we cooked.”

“I would’ve thought fast food would be your meal every night,” she stated.

I lifted my shirt and showed her my abs. “You think I could keep this shit up by eating McDonald’s every fuckin day?”

She slowly trailed her eyes over my abs, then shook her head and asked, “And she taught you how to make marinara sauce?” completely blowing off the abs. Indie didn’t need to worry about it. She’d have her hands all over me soon enough.

I nodded, letting her off the hook as I found the can opener and opened the tomatoes. “I’d like to have some Italian sausage in here with the beef and fresh spices, but we work with what we got.”

“I feel weird with you cooking for me,” she admitted. “In fact, I would feel much better if you would just walk on out that door, climb on that steel horse, and cowboy your way right on down the road.”

I didn’t even try to stop the laugh that escaped. “Get used to it. One, I’m not going anywhere. We can both be stubborn, Indie, but you should know I won’t back down. And two, I am cooking for you. I’m here, you’re hungry, and tired, so I’m cooking to make sure you aren’t still hungry when I put you to bed. My mom didn’t just teach me seven recipes like she did Raid. I have a whole arsenal of recipes to show you.” I looked around, then held the top of the can and turned to her. “Garbage?”

“Under the second cabinet. It pulls out.”

Ahhh, she was finally relaxing a bit. Finding the spot, I opened it and grabbed what I needed to throw away.

“Can I help at least?” she asked, and I shook my head, seeing the bottle of wine I’d pulled out of the fridge. Going back to the top cabinet, I found glasses in it. She didn’t have a glass with a stem on it, so I grabbed one without and poured some of the wine in the glass.

Walking over to her, I set the wine in front of her as her eyes traveled up my body. “Um. Thanks?” Her breathing hitched, and I fucking loved it.

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