Red (Hell’s Jury MC #5)

29. Chapter 29

CHAPTER 29

Stella

“Holy crap,” Lexie says as she points to the guy with the buzzcut and tattoos. “Hotness factor 10.”

I can’t argue with her. The guy could be a model. Tall, shirtless, tattooed and with a swagger that belongs on a runway.

As if he senses Lexie watching him, he waves and winks.

She jumps away from the window. “I think he likes me.”

“He’s taken,” I tell her. He was one of the guys at the hospital and Lachlan put names to their faces and gave me a little background. “His name is Trigger. His fiancé’s a vet and apparently the hottest woman in the world, except for me.”

“Good grief,” Selma says. “Lachlan needs glasses.”

“Trigger’s a weird name,” Lexie says.

“It’s not his real name; it’s a road name. You get one when you join Hell’s Jury.”

“Cool,” she replies. “So what’s Lachlan’s?”

“Red.”

“Wow. Imaginative,” Selma says.

Lexie changes the subject. “Who’s not got a girlfriend then?”

Selma and I join her at the window.

I point at Rider. “That one’s single.”

Lexie frowns. “He’s too short for me.”

“I’ll take him,” Selma says.

“You’ve already got a boyfriend!” I say.

She shrugs. “Meh.”

Graham is meh, but I don’t tell Selma I agree with her. If I did, he’d become non-meh pretty fast. “We’re not here to drool over Lachlan’s friends. Let’s get to work.”

Selma takes over. “Okay. The cupboards need scrubbing. So does the fridge and stove. Lexie, why don’t you tackle that since it gives you a direct view into the back yard.”

I grin. “So she can supervise the… uh… workers.”

We laugh. “I’ll go upstairs,” I say. I have two motives for doing so. One, because it’s cleaner up there. And two, I don’t want them to see Lachlan’s bedroom.

Selma nods. “I’m going to tackle the laundry room first, then the living room. Do you know if Lachlan has a vacuum?”

I shake my head. “I doubt it.”

“I’ll get mom’s.” Selma heads to the door. “What else?”

“Broom and mop,” Lexie says. “Some spray stuff, cloths.” She looks around. “I’m not really sure what you need when you’re cleaning.”

Silver spoon Lexie probably didn’t even have to make her bed until she moved in with me. “Paper towel for the mirrors and windows.”

“Yep,” Selma agrees. “I’ll see what else mom has.”

“We could buy all that stuff,” Lexie suggests. “We have Lachlan’s credit card after all.”

“No way,” I reply. “He didn’t tell me to go crazy.”

“I think that ship has already sailed,” Selma says dryly.

“Besides he’s gonna need all that stuff for the house anyway,” Lexie argues.

She has a point. I try to picture Lachlan and me cleaning the house and it makes my head hurt. Still, we might have to, since I live on a small allowance mom and dad give me and Lachlan is probably cash-poor because he just bought a house. “Okay. I’ll tell Lachlan we’re leaving to get some cleaning supplies.”

“He’s not your keeper,” Selma says. “You don’t need to account for your comings and goings.”

Lexie jumps into defend me. “It’s common curtesy. You’d tell Graham wouldn’t you?”

“Please,” I reply sarcastically. “The only thing Selma tells Graham is when to jump and how high.” Still, there’s a ring of truth to what Selma said. “Lachlan’s so busy outside he won’t even notice me gone.”

We pile into Lexie’s SUV and head to a discount department store. When we get there, we outdo ourselves, buying everything we think we need for now and future including garbage cans, a vacuum, hooks for hanging pictures and roach spray, just in case.

As we walk towards the exit with our new purchases, Lexie spies the electronics section. “Maybe we should get Lachlan a TV.”

Selma says, “We’re already walking a fine line between personal shopper and full-out theft, so let’s not push our luck.”

“Yeah,” I agree reluctantly.

We shove everything into the SUV and are on our way home when I spy a grocery store. “Stop there,” I say as I point. “I’ll grab a few groceries so I can make some food for the guys.”

“You can’t even manage mac and cheese,” Selma says.

“Would you stop being the voice of reason! I’m thinking of cooking chili. How hard can it be?”

Selma and Lexie wait in the car while I go into the store. Mom makes a good chili and I think about the ingredients in it. Beans and ground beef for sure. I get a ton of ground beef. I’m not sure what kind of beans, so I add three cans each of black, white, baked, kidney, and lima to the cart.

I buy five cans of tomato soup because there’s definitely some kind of tomato flavor. Salt and pepper, and of course some chili powder. I linger in the produce department trying to decide what peppers would be good. Green for sure, but not jalape?o. Too bitter. The serranos look inviting so I buy a half-dozen.

There’s also a bag of onions on sale so I get it and add six boxes of doughnuts to the cart, hoping there will be leftovers for breakfast tomorrow.

I toss my bags on top of Selma, who’s in the back seat. She rifles through them. “Does Lachlan have a can opener?”

“Crap. He probably doesn’t.” I’m anxious to get back to Lachlan so I say, “We’re not stopping again. We can borrow mom’s.”

When we get back, we unload everything and get to work. Men wander in and out to use the toilet, grab a beer, flirt with Lexie and Selma. I may as well be invisible for all the attention I’m getting.

Lachlan comes upstairs while I’m changing the sheets on the bed. “No need to change those. We’re gonna mess them up later.” He grabs me, presses me against the wall, kissing me hard as his hands wander under my T-shirt, kneading my breasts, tweaking my nipple.

Heat streaks through me and my knees go weak. I sift my fingers through his hair as he kisses my neck. “God, that feels good,” I whisper.

“I could take a break,” he rasps, his hot breath brushing my ear.

Reality breaks through the fog. “Oh no.” I push him away from me. “Everyone would know what we’re doing.”

He shrugs. “My brothers are pretty casual when it comes to fuckin’. They’ll get it.”

For some reason, his crudeness turns me on but I need to put a stop to this. “But Selma and Lexie won’t.”

“Repressed white people.”

“You’re white and Lexie isn’t, so that argument doesn’t work.”

He smacks me on the lips. “The guys are gettin’ their eyefuls of Lexie and Selma.”

I pout. “Yeah. They haven’t even looked my way. I mean, I’m no beauty queen, but I deserve some attention.”

“Bullshit. You’re gorgeous but it’s bro code. No flirtin’ with each other’s women or you risk getting pummeled.”

I grab him around the waist and kiss him hard. “That’s such a turn on.”

He draws his finger across my lower lip. “You’re a nutcase, yeah?”

I smile. “Yeah.”

After he leaves, I finish my work, then head downstairs. “What’s a nutcase?” I ask Lexie, who’s washing the big living room window.

“It’s like when you’re slightly crazy.”

“I know that, but don’t you think it’s weird? Like the whole comparison. We call people nuts. But why? And is a nutcase like a peanut shell?”

Lexie looks thoughtful. “You’re right, I never thought of it that way. Selma might know.”

I shake my head. “Let’s keep her out of this.”

“Out of what?” Selma says as she comes around the corner, wearing yellow plastic gloves on her hands and a big black T-shirt that says, “Every time I try to jog, I spill my wine.”

“Where’d you get that?” I ask, not liking how cute she looks in it.

“At the beer store.”

“Mom’s gonna love your new fashion choices.”

“I’ll take it off before she sees it.”

“I’m not sure you should be spending Lachlan’s money on personal stuff,” Lexie says while I try to control my jealousy, which doesn’t even make sense, but it feels like Lachlan bought the tee for Selma and so far, he hasn’t got me anything.

Selma rolls her eyes. “I do have my own money.” She looks at her watch. “Getting kind of late in the day. Don’t you think we should get started on the chili?”

“I should get started. I don’t need any help.”

As I leave the room, Lexie says to Selma, “Does she look like a psycho? Is that what they look like? Psychos do not explode when sunlight hits them, I don't give a fuck how crazy they are!”

I shake my head. She’s quoting Tarantino again.

I get started on the chili by taking out the cans and lining them up, then contemplate the ground beef. I probably need oil. I head across the street. Mom and Sorcha are baking cookies. “The gramma says I’m a good cooker,” Sorcha says.

“You certainly are,” mom says, tweaking Sorcha’s nose.

“I need to borrow a can opener and some oil. I’m making chili.”

Mom frowns. “Do you know what you’re doing, Stella? I could make the chili for you and bring it over.”

I shake my head. “No, I want to do it by myself.”

She laughs. “At least you’re smart enough to start with chili. When I met your father I tried to bake a stewing chicken.”

I don’t really get it but laugh along with her as I yank the cord of the can opener out of the wall, then grab the bottle of olive oil.

“The avocado oil has a higher burn point. You should use it.”

“Don’t need avocados,” I tell her as I race out the door. Good grief. Avocados in chili. When did that become a thing?

I get the ground beef frying in the biggest pot we purchased, then chop up the onion and serrano peppers and add them. Tears are rolling down my face because of the onion and when I wipe them away, my eyes start stinging because of the peppers.

“Help me!” I yell.

Selma and Lexie race in. “What happened?”

“I burnt my eyes on the peppers!”

Selma helps me rinse them in the sink as Lexie stirs the ground beef, then takes a small bite. “Holy crap!” she exclaims as she knocks me aside, fills a glass with water and gulps it down. “That’s way too spicy.”

I wipe the wet hair off my forehead. “It won’t be so hot after I add all the beans and tomato soup.” I look at the cans doubtfully. “Which beans go in the chili do you think?”

Lexie and Selma inspect the cans. “Well not the lima beans,” Selma says.

“Definitely not the lima beans,” Lexie echoes.

“But the rest?”

They shrug. “Go for it,” Selma says.

I start opening the cans and dumping them in.

“The pot’s not big enough,” Selma observes like she’s a genius.

“No kidding.” To Lexie, I say, “Can you stir to make sure it doesn’t burn while I get a bigger pot from mom?”

“You could turn down the heat,” Selma suggests.

“And you could hang yourself with that T-shirt,” I tell her but turn the heat down as I race out of the house.

Sorcha and mom are eating cookies and drinking milk when I jog into the kitchen. “Where’s that big pot you use when you’re making turkey soup after thanksgiving? The one I’m using isn’t big enough.”

“In the pantry,” mom points.

“Want a cookie?” Sorcha mumbles around a mouthful.

I grab the pot. “Not right now, sweetheart.” I race back across the street.

Lexie carefully pours the small pot into the big pot then hands Selma the empty pot.

“What am I supposed to do with this?”

“Wash it, Cinderella,” I reply.

Selma glares and then fills it with water and soap and starts scrubbing.

“Keep stirring,” I tell Lexie as I open the rest of the cans and pour them in. Then I add a half a cup of chili powder.

When the chili starts to bubble, we take turns tasting it.

“Still too hot,” Lexie gasps.

“Your tongue’s too sensitive,” I reply as the sweat breaks out on my forehead.

Selma seems to be unaffected by the heat factor. “Needs some flavor besides chili powder. Salt and pepper.”

“Not pepper, for god’s sake,” Lexie squeaks.

Selma rolls her eyes and pours some salt into the chili. Then she dumps a small spoon of pepper into it. “That too much for you, Lex?”

Lexie stirs and then we take turns trying it again. “Still too hot,” Lexie says again.

She’s right.

“And now a little salty,” she adds.

My shoulders slump. “So how do we fix it?”

We stare at each other, then Lexie ventures, “Ketchup? Maybe some milk.”

I frown. “I didn’t buy any ketchup or milk.”

“Mom’ll have some,” Selma says.

I bolt across the road again. Mom and Sorcha are washing up the baking supplies.

“I need some ketchup and milk,” I say as I throw open the fridge.

“We drank all the milk, didn’t we gramma?”

“I’m afraid so.”

I groan as I grab the ketchup. No milk. What else will work? I think about mom’s curry. “Do we have coconut milk?”

Mom looks startled. “In the pantry.”

There are three cans and I take them all.

“What on earth are you doing?” Mom asks as I run through the door.

“Making chili,” I call back impatiently. Mom’s memory must be going.

Back in the kitchen, Selma opens the cans while I add the ketchup. Lexie stirs. We all step back as it starts to bubble.

“Should we taste it again,” Selma asks.

Lexie’s eyes get wider. “I don’t think we should.”

She’s right. I look at the time. It’s 6:30. “I think it’s ready to serve.”

“On what?” Selma says.

“Shoot. Forgot the plates.” I’m almost near tears. “Mom’s not going to let me borrow her plates.”

“Settle down,” Selma says. “Mom’s got a ton of picnic supplies.”

“Yeah, good idea,” I reply. I take off across the road.

“Where are the picnic supplies?” I say to mom. Sorcha is flinging the broom around the kitchen like a windmill while mom is wiping the table.

“Look!” Sorcha says. “The gramma says I’m big enough to sweep the floor.”

“You’re doing a great job,” I reply absently.

“What do you need?”

“Paper plates, forks, napkins.”

“In the pantry.”

I’m grabbing an armful when I spy the bag of potatoes. “Shoot. I forgot to add the potatoes.”

Mom looks at me strangely. “You don’t put potatoes in chili.”

“Then why do we always have potatoes in the chili?”

“Do you not pay attention to what you’re eating? The potatoes are a side dish and you have spooned them onto your plate since you were five years old.”

“I’m five years old,” Sorcha says. “Can I spoon too?”

Mom laughs.

I don’t. “Then what should I do?”

“Potatoes aren’t a deal breaker, Stella. You could serve buns. I’ve got some in the freezer.” Mom disappears downstairs.

Sorcha is studying me. “Can I have some chili?”

“I’ll bring some over for you later.”

Mom returns with two dozen buns and hands them to me. “You’ll need butter too.” She grabs a block out of the fridge and puts it on top of my load.

I almost drop the napkins.

“Thanks. What else?”

“Did you put salt and pepper in it?”

“Selma did.” I frown. “She can’t really cook, can she?”

Mom shakes her head. “I failed you both.”