Fighting Chance (Misty Grove Book 1) (25 page)

Cassie also had seen Colt and Trent pouring over schematics and what appeared to be the layout of the ranch.
 

“There’s one thing bugging me though,” Cassie said. “What do I bring to the relationship, Millie? He’s taking on a lot, and I’m simply coasting.”

“You could learn how to cook.”

Cassie looked at the other woman dubiously.

“What? You love to eat. You’ve got the diner at your disposal. You can learn to cook.”

“You’re looking for free labor,” Cassie teased.

“I’d probably lose more money with the amount of food you’d ruin—”

“Hey!”

“There’s always crockpot cooking,” Simon chimed in.

“Now there’s an idea,” Millie said.

“What’s an idea?” Lucas barged into the kitchen. Spying a fried chicken leg, he picked it up and bit into it. “Love this one,” he said between mouthfuls. “Hot and spicy.”

“Cassie learning to use a crockpot.”

Lucas raised a brow. “You do know how to use a crockpot, sis.”

“Chili. I know how to make chili and that’s about it,” Cassie replied dryly.
 

“That’s a start. You know how to turn the thing on,” Millie deadpanned.

Cassie rolled her eyes. “I’m not exactly a dimwit when it comes to the kitchen, but Trent has more sophisticated tastes than having chili or barbecue every day.”

“I’m sure he doesn’t expect you to make chicken cordon bleu,” Millie intoned with a French accent.

“Do you know how to make it?”

“Of course. I’ve taken cooking classes in France.”

“When did you have the time to take a cooking class as an assassin?” Cassie asked, bemused.

Millie shrugged. “I seem to get a lot of cover assignments as a chef. They were necessary.”
 

“I think I’m not cut out to be a domestic goddess,” Cassie grumbled. “It’s a lot easier taking care of the ranch than a Victorian house. I mean, those wooden floors...”

Cassie trailed off as Trent stepped into the kitchen.
 

“So this is where everyone has disappeared to,” he murmured.

“You’re early!” Cassie couldn’t keep the elation from her voice as she jumped off the barstool and leapt into his arms, planting a resounding kiss on his lips.
 

“Hmmm, I think I’ll be early more often if that’s the welcome I get,” Trent commented, a pleased gleam entering his eyes. “But what are these complaints about housework, babe? I thought we were living in domestic bliss?”

“I wasn’t complaining. On the contrary, actually. I want to contribute more to our relationship.”

“Ah, I see.” Trent looked up and surveyed their audience. “There’s a thing or two I have in mind, but I think I’d rather tell you when we’re alone.”

Millie laughed as Lucas made a gagging noise.

Cassie smacked Trent on his shoulder as she felt her cheeks flame. “I’m not talking about that!”

“Neither was I,” Trent chuckled. “Get your mind out of the gutter, hellcat.” Turning to her brother, he said, “Lucas, is it my imagination or do there seem to be more bikers around?”

“We’ve seen a couple more than usual at the garage. I think there’s a rally in the next county this weekend.”

“Should we be concerned? Is it a friendly rally or are they rival MCs?”

“I’m not sure. The ones at the shop seem like 1 percenters and wear the same patches.”

“I see,” Trent’s jaw tightened. “I’ll look into it.”

“We see more of them around this time of the year,” Cassie assured him. “They shouldn’t cause a problem in Buckland County.” But she understood Trent’s concern since he’d been involved in the Texas motorcycle club shootout last year. He’d told her about it during one of their evening chats.

Still, her man came home early. She wanted to plan a special evening for them, even if she wasn’t prepared for it. After all, wasn’t spontaneity fun sometimes?

“I’m making you chicken cordon bleu tonight,” she announced before she could fully comprehend exactly what she had signed up for.

Trent looked at her warily. “Are you sure, babe? I can throw a couple of steaks on the grill.”

“What? You think I can’t pull it off?” She glared up at her man.

“Best to let her have her way, Trent,” Millie drawled. “She’s been dying to please you.”

“I don’t mind having a steak,” Lucas piped in.

Cassie transferred her glare to her twin. “Trent and I are having a romantic evening to ourselves.”

“Uh, we are?” Trent quirked a brow in amusement.

“Yes, we are,” Cassie grabbed his hand and dragged him out of the kitchen. “Let’s go next door and shop at John’s.”

*****

Trent sat back in his chair, finishing off the last of his contracts as he eyed his woman over the rim of his laptop. After pulling up a recipe on her phone, Cassie proceeded to the general store to pick up the ingredients. She nearly panicked when John didn’t have Swiss cheese on hand, but luckily Trent already had it in his fridge. Of course Millie was always a backup, so there wasn’t any danger of missing any ingredient, and there were always substitutions that could be made.

“You sure you’re okay with ham instead of prosciutto?” Cassie asked as she unpacked the groceries on the kitchen counter. “We can always make a quick run into Edington and get some.”

“I’m perfectly fine with ham,” Trent said. And he’d be damned if he’d drive them through rush-hour traffic after he’d made every effort to leave county offices at 3:00 p.m.

Right now she was busily pounding away on the chicken breast. Every now and then, she’d stop and look at the recipe on her phone. Whenever her brows furrowed, he had the urge to get up and smooth them. He’d have to have a chat with her later regarding her perceived notion about “give and take” because it seemed she was taking it quite too literally. He had to make her understand that he loved taking care of her and that included cooking, driving her places, and picking her up. She didn’t have to clean the house or do the laundry all by herself if she hated it. They could do them together on some nights and the weekend. He sighed as he took a gulp of his beer. He’d been envisioning a relaxing evening with her on the couch where they’d talk or watch a movie on TV. Then he would slowly nuzzle her neck as the end credits rolled by and make love to her all evening and maybe into the morning.
 

It was only 6:00 p.m. All was not lost.

Trent finished his beer, stood up, and walked to the kitchen to grab another one. He leaned back against the fridge. “Need any help?”

“I’m fine.” She swiped the back of her hand on her forehead. “Actually, uh, can you turn on the oven to 350?”

“Done.”

“I should have done that before I started the prep.” There was a hint of frustration in her voice.

“It’s fine, babe.” Trent kept his tone calm and neutral. “We’re not going to starve. Besides, it’s better to stick the chicken in the oven when the chicken is not too cold.”

She flashed him a grateful grin and he had the urge to forget this whole fancy chicken night and take her to bed. But it was her show. He watched her roll up the chicken and cover it in bread crumbs. When the oven dinged to indicate it was at temperature, she put the tray of chicken in. Looked like she was going to pull it off without a hitch because Trent could certainly keep an eye on the dish—discreetly—and help her determine when it was done.
 

“Crud!” she exclaimed, scowling at her phone.

“What’s wrong?”

“Béchamel sauce.”

“We can skip that,” Trent hedged cautiously.

“No we can’t,” she snapped.
 

Okay, no we can’t.

Cassie started running around the kitchen, pulling out the butter and flour.
 

“I can help, Cassie.”

“No.” She measured the butter and started melting it on the saucepan. When she agitatedly measured the flour and made a mess on the kitchen counter, she cursed. “I’ll clean it up later.”

“No problem.” Trent could give a fuck about the mess. Right now, he cared more about the fact that she wasn’t smiling anymore.
 

“Cassie...”

“Oh, shit, the butter,” she wailed as she pulled the pan from the stove as the smell of nutty butter permeated the kitchen.

She had the heat on too high, Trent observed.
 

Right now, she wouldn’t look at him as she parked the pan on the unlit back burner. “Shit. Shit. Shit.”

He needed to step in and salvage the evening.
 

“Cassie, listen.” He pulled her to him, but she pushed away.

“I got it. I’ll just redo it,” she muttered.

“Hey.” Trent firmly but gently tipped her chin up. “Babe, I really appreciate you taking this on yourself, but let me help you. A relationship is not just about give and take. It’s teamwork. There are times I can give more, and at other times you can, and sometimes we can do things together. The moment we start nickel and diming everything we do for each other, it cheapens what we have.”

“I don’t want you to get tired of taking care of me.” Cassie blinked as a tear escaped the corner of her eye, and it was then Trent realized that this was more than about cooking for him. She was putting an effort to show him she cared enough to make them work. “I want to take care of you, too, Trent. You have to let me.”

“And you are, babe,” Trent whispered. “The brilliance of your smile and that twinkle in your eye are enough to nourish my jaded soul. Whenever you leap into my arms after a long day at work, you wash away the weariness of the day. And my heart, God, my heart, Cassie, it’s so full to bursting because it knows you’re my woman. You make me happy just being you.”

She stared up at him, her lips parting as if in awe.

“Uh, you didn’t know I could be a sap, did you?” Trent joked as he flushed, seriously shocked at the words that spilled from his mouth.

“That was poetic,” Cassie breathed. “And the most beautiful words anyone has ever spoken to me.”
 

Her lips tipped up into that dazzling smile, and Trent decided he could be sappy anytime as long as she didn’t stop smiling.

The chicken cordon bleu was a success and Cassie did it all on her own, Trent thought proudly. All she needed was to calm down and measure out the ingredients for the béchamel sauce first before she started. Honestly, Trent had never made fancy sauces before. He was more a breakfast or grill or pasta guy. The basics.
 

The plating was impressive too. He’d heard Millie coach Cassie over FaceTime.

Now they were relaxing on the couch watching taped episodes of this zombie apocalypse series that Cassie was so fond of.
 

Trent zoned out a bit, inhaling the scent of her hair, feeling her warmth against him, and just holding her in his arms. He hadn’t felt this much contentment in his life. She made him happy—unbelievably happy.

“We need more furniture,” Cassie spoke suddenly. She escaped his embrace and stretched on a yawn. “Let me buy the dining set. Millie and I were searching online today and we think we’ve found the perfect one. It seats ten and will need assembly.”

“Whatever you want, babe, but I insist on paying for major expenses in this house.”

“Hmm,” Cassie answered, dragging a finger down the center of his chest, which jolted him straight to a semi. His mind cleared of its languid haziness as his body responded to the sudden flirtatious cue in hers. “Maybe I can convince you to let me pay?”

“What do you have in mind?” Trent grew heavy lidded with lust. He couldn’t help the groan that escaped his lips when Cassie dropped to her knees in front of him. Anticipation built.

“I can think of ways,” she continued huskily, keeping her eyes on his as her fingers tugged on his boxer briefs. He lifted his hips to allow her to remove the underwear. Since that was all Trent was wearing in the first place, he was now buck naked in front of his woman. His breathing grew ragged as she took his cock in hand, gripping its base, and gave it a firm pump. He was hard as granite. Still keeping her gaze on his, her tongue licked around the sensitive tip once. Twice.

“Cassie,” he growled.

She grinned wickedly as her pink tongue shot out again and this time continued swirling around the head of his erection while her fist started a pumping rhythm.
 

“Fuck! Take more in,” he croaked. His eyes rolled back as she swallowed the length of him. Warm, moist suction had him bucking his hips as his hands gripped her head, and it was all he could do to avoid having her choke on his dick.

She released his cock. “Do it. Fuck my face.” And her mouth took as much cock as it could, her hand helping along. Trent pistoned his hips wildly. Knowing his shaft was hitting the back of her throat had him digging his fingers into her hair, pushing her head down to take him even deeper. Her throat hummed in approval and sent already frenzied sensations spiraling into a blinding supernova.

“Sweet fuck,” Trent roared harshly as he started to come. His whole body trembled with his release, pumping jets of hot cum into the depths of her throat, and she didn’t relent in sucking him dry. When he was spent and every last drop was cleaned from his shaft, Cassie wiped the corners of her lips, leaned in between his thighs, and crawled up his body, trapping his still-erect cock between them. A primitive, guttural sound rose from the depths of his throat.

“Well?” Cassie asked, her eyes as warm as dark caramel. His nostrils flared as he caught the scent of her arousal. His mouth watered.

“You may buy the damned dining set on one condition.” Trent leaned forward to capture her lips in a quick, bruising kiss. “My first meal on it will be you.”

Then he flipped her on her back and went down on her.
 

CHAPTER TWENTY

There was something to be said about late July weather in the heart of Georgia. Stifling heat with nary a whisper of breeze. Dense air suffocating in its stillness. Sweat clinging to skin like a shroud steeped in steaming brew. Yes, Georgia summers were like an outdoor sauna. On the ground, the hot asphalt became a wavy mirage of black ribbon at a distance. Not a single soul, neither man nor beast was in sight, until a roar of engines broke the silence, their growl a steady crescendo. A fleet of maybe ten or fifteen motorcycles appeared on the horizon. They were followed by an eighteen-wheeler. And they were on their way to Misty Grove.