“Lord knows that’s true,” Nave said, shrugging.
“Does he have his head on right about whatever his business is?” I asked.
“Never known him not to,” Valen said.
Was it just me, or did I detect a false note in his words? Not that he was outwardly lying to me, but that because he didn’t know what was going on, that he was worried his friend might be in over his head?
Nave let it drop. And I did as well.
Outwardly.
In my head, though, it was all I could think about as I ripped out the mint, as I took bushels of it inside to make mint lemonade as a side for dinner.
It was on my mind as I got out ingredients and started to figure out how to work them together to make something edible.
“So, is this some sexist shit, or are you the only one who knows how to cook?” Nave asked, smirking at me from his position leaning in the doorway, his hair still wet from his shower.
Unlike the rest of the guys, Nave went for full-on relaxation-mode when the day’s tasks were mostly done. So instead of slipping back into fresh jeans, he was in a pair of dark gray lightweight sweatpants and a slightly wrinkled—likely from being stuck in his duffel bag—white tee.
“Well, I haven’t really seen anyone else in here,” I said. “And I want to eat, so…” I told him, waving out. “What are you doing?” I asked as he pushed off the wall and moved inside.
“Helping.”
“Youcook?” I asked, probably sounding pretty offensive with my tone, but I was too shocked to watch it.
“I do,” he agreed.
“Do you cook-cook, or just throw random shit together?”
“Baby, I can rock your tastebuds,” he told me with a devilish little smirk. “My old man was the clubhouse cook most of the time,” he reminded me.
“Oh, right. Okay. Well, what are we making?” I asked. “I haven’t hit the store in a while, so we are running on fumes when it comes to ingredients.”
“There’s plenty here,” he assured me as he started rearranging the supplies. “Especially if we have any rice or pasta around here somewhere.”
“That is something we never really run out of,” I said, going into the pantry to grab some.
We were still working side-by-side a solid forty minutes later when Valen finally rolled back into the clubhouse.
He was starting to look a little rough.
Despite his bunk being quiet at night, he looked like he hadn’t been sleeping. He was kind of pale, making those smudges under his eyes stand out. It looked like he hadn’t bothered to shave in days, either.
It was more than that, though.
His posture was off.
There was just something… beaten down about him.
Where was he slinking off to?
What was he doing?
What the fuck was going on?
Clearly, it couldn’t be good if he was stressing about it. Why wouldn’t he bring someone else in on it then? At least Voss. As much as I didn’t like the idea of him keeping shit from a whole club who would be happy to help him, I would feel a little better if I knew Voss was on his side. Especially after hearing the stories about how crazy the guy was.
Valen jolted backward at seeing Nave and I working side-by-side near the stove.