His brow quirked at her reply, a silent question hanging in the air between them. “For food?” he asked.

Her response was punctuated by a playful wink, a coy smile playing on her lips. “For food too,” she told him, her voice a soft purr that sent a thrilling jolt through Chains.

The late afternoon sun had begun to slant in through the window, its dying rays casting long, languid shadows across Juliette’s bed. The room was aglow with a soft golden hue, the atmosphere filled with a sense of calm and contentment. Chains, his muscles finally beginning to unwind from their passion play, pulled Juliette closer. His fingers danced lightly across her bare skin, his breath warm against the nape of her neck.

Her voice, barely a whisper, was rich with emotion as she uttered a single word. “Stay.”

A moment of silence hung between them, heavy with anticipation. Then, her request was repeated, slightly louder this time, carrying with it a weight of unspoken longing. “Stay the night.”

“Nothing could pull me away, Juliette,” he replied, his voice rumbling through her.

Later that evening, the scent of grilling steak wafted through the air as Chains demonstrated his culinary skills. The sizzling sound, the smoky aroma, it was as if he was painting a masterpiece on the canvas of her heart, feeding her with everything she had been missing…bar her maw.

“Fresh from the market,” Juliette had said, as she unwrapped the steak. Chains had nodded, as he fired up the grill.

“I might have to call you Chains Lagasse with the way you handle your food,” Juliette told him as she handed him an ice-cold beer.

“If only,” he said. “I can cook. Had a lot of experience, but guys like him…they’re exceptional.”

“You’re exceptional,” she said.

“With cooking? You haven’t tasted it yet.”

“With everything.”

He clinked his beer bottle against hers and took a swig. “As long as you believe that I’m not going to try to change your mind.”

“Couldn’t anyway,” she said.

While the steak sizzled he finished preparing the salad. Juliette had been given strict instructions that he would prepare the whole meal and she could sit back and relax. She was doing just that when he glanced up to catch her watching him from the table she was sitting on, a soft smile playing on her lips.

“Enjoying the view?” he asked.

“Very much so,” she’d replied, her eyes drifting from his eyes to the apron-clad torso. She laughed. “I wonder what the Jokers would think about Chains in a chef’s apron?”

“It’s not the first time they would have seen me like this,” he said.

“Seriously? You wear an apron when you cook for them?”

“Nah. Only when we dress up silly sometimes.”

“And how often is that?” she asked.

“Probably a lot more than it should be,” he said. “We like to enjoy ourselves at the club. It’s not just about a bunch of guys going their thing. We do family stuff. We are a family…just a really big, unusual family. But family all the same.”

“I like that,” she said. She missed family. Maybe she’d just found a bigger one that she could have ever prayed for.

The supper they shared was much more than just a meal; it was a deep connection of souls. Conversation flowed as easily as the beer, laughter punctuating their intimate moments. The rest of the night unfolded in a similar rhythm, each beat drawing them closer until sleep wrapped them in its peaceful embrace.

Morning brought a golden sunrise, bathing their world in a warm glow. Chains, already up and at work rustling up a breakfast, caught Juliette’s eye as she walked onto the porch. Chains served her a plate.

“We’ll head to the club after breakfast, see what’s on that USB.” Chains said. Her nod of agreement was interrupted by the intrusive ring of his phone.

“Gator?” Chains frowned as he answered the call. Juliette watched him, wondering what was up so early in the morning. Chains’ expression shifted to one of mild irritation.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “OK, bro. I’ll help you move the gator, but you owe me one.”

Juliette raised an eyebrow, suppressing a chuckle at the unexpected change in their day’s plans.