Page 2 of Carver's Obsession

Carver nodded. “Yeah. It never seems like I can fill myself up, but the crappy food I’ve been eating doesn’t help.”

“You’ll love the food here.”

“You guys have added on to the place,” Carver said.

“Yeah, we’ve had to,” Feral said. “We have a few more people here, and they demand their own bathrooms.”

Striker laughed at the confusion on the other man’s face. He thought these women would be the best thing for Carver. He’d never had anyone really care about him except the club members. The man deserved some peace more than anyone he knew.

Chapter Two

Carver’s eyebrows rose. What the hell was he talking about? He got his next shock when he walked into the kitchen to see two sweet-looking normal women making something and laughing.

He watched his boss walk around the counter and wrap an arm around one of their waists.

“Carver, this is my old lady…”

“I’m not old,” the woman said, scowling over her shoulder at the prez.

Striker rolled his eyes. “Fuck, fine, this is my very young lady, Kristina. The other woman is Alicia, Stone’s young lady.”

Alicia laughed.

The place was cleaner than he’d ever seen it before, and it smelled so fresh. His mouth watered at the scent of chocolate.

“Hey, girls. This is a brother, Carver.”

Both women smiled at him.

“Hi. We hope you’re staying home,” Kristina said.

Fuck.Home. He hated calling it that because it sounded like a family.

“Babe, can you girls make him something to eat?”

Kristina smiled brightly. “Of course. We have the roast beef from last night or lasagna from the night before. I’m frankly amazed we still have some.”

“Because someone keeps hiding it in the back of the fridge,” Gunner growled.

The girls snickered, making the men around him smile. Everyone seemed so comfortable and happy. When he’d left several years before, it had been a bikers’ club, but it was the only family he’d ever had that cared about him. Now, it felt more like a home—one he never thought he’d have in his lifetime.

Carver nodded. “Roast beef, please.” He couldn’t ever remember having a home-cooked meal before. When he’d lived in the club before, it had always been shit like hamburgers, pizza, and chili that had no taste. The scent of it as it warmed up in the microwave made saliva pool in his mouth.

Kristina handed the plate to Striker. “What would you like to drink?”

“Beer?”

“I’ll bring you one,” Feral said.

“Follow me,” Striker told him.

He followed the man, and they sat by the firepit. A low fire was already going. He sat back and took his first bite. Fuck. He’d never tasted anything this good before.

“It’s good, isn’t it?” Striker laughed.

Carver didn’t stop eating. Feral came out with several beers and sat down next to him. The other two at the fire talked quietly about some store, allowing Carver to enjoy the meal. He finished the whole plate.

“Fuck, that was good.”

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