eyed clean jeans. But my blue striped pajama pants beckoned from the bed, and my body just hurt. I quickly donned them, the matching tank top and some thick comfy socks. To complete the look, I wrapped a thick sweatshirt around my torso like a fuzzy knitted hug.
I dodged back into the bathroom and ran a comb through my curls, figuring I’d rather eat dinner than dry my hair. I swallowed three Advil dry and then put a couple of bandages on my palms, noting the scrapes weren’t so bad with all of the bark and dirt gone. A swipe of gloss didn’t help my face enough. With a shrug, I headed out to face Aiden.
How many times through the years had I fantasized about domestic bliss with him? Man, I really was crazy.
He had set the table, and a bottle of Shiraz breathed on the counter. Leaning against the wall, he crossed his arms and watched me walk into the kitchen, his eyes sharp and his face thoughtful. He seemed solid and somewhat safe in his black shirt, dark jeans, and flak boots. My mind reeled; I wasn’t sure what questions to ask him. Maybe he’d feel pity and just roll over and confess everything. I hoped he didn’t have much to confess.
He just couldn’t be bad.
I tried for a reassuring smile, reaching into the freezer for a bag of homemade rolls, liking the feel of the cold bag on my aching palms. They went into the microwave before I stirred the stew. It was my Nana’s recipe. Gravied beef, roasted carrots, and puffy potatoes scented the air, and I ladled two big bowls and handed them to Aiden to put on the table. He poured the wine, and I placed the heated rolls onto a large plate before crossing to the table and sitting down. He followed suit.
We ate in silence for a few minutes, and the stew warmed me.
He grinned. “This is delicious.”
“Thanks.”
“It’s actually homemade,” he murmured.
“Yep. I like to cook, Aiden.”
He took a sip of his wine, his eyes focused on me. “So.”
“What do you know about a drug called Beast?” I asked, too tired to worry if I was going to tick him off.
He jerked and then lost all expression.
“That much, huh?” I muttered. “You were arrested for possessing it, and I have to assume the Lordes are distributing it. How about you do the right thing and become an informant?” That way we could get the bad guys, and hopefully I could help Aiden out.
“I’m not an informant, sweetheart.” He poured more wine for us both. “The drugs they found on the raid weren’t in my room.”
“You’re a Lorde, a Defender, and you’re responsible for the entire complex.” I hadn’t even had a trial yet, and even I could make that stick in court. I set my fork down. “Seriously, Aiden. How did you end up in a motorcycle gang that’s running drugs? Why?” It hurt somehow. To think the guy I’d dreamed about for so long had turned out to be a criminal doing something that would hurt people.
He sighed. “You don’t know anything about me.”
“I know you lived in Ireland until you were fourteen and came to live with your grandma in Silverville when your parents died,” I said. “You were quiet and kind of rebellious, and you saved my life. That’s as much as I know.”
“My parents didn’t die,” he said, sipping his wine. “Well, my mom died when I was a toddler, but as far as I know, my dad is still alive. He beat the crap out of me to the point that my Grams got custody.” Setting down his glass, he shrugged, his eyes harder than I’d ever seen them. “I came here, made a few friends, got in a little bit of trouble, and then left when Grams died.”
I leaned forward, my heart hurting for him. But he was finally answering some questions. “Before you left town so suddenly, were you boosting cars in the city?” I’d never believed it.
His grin showed the charm he seemed to try and hide. “Listen, counselor.”
I shook my head. “That was years and years ago. If you had been boosting cars, the statute of limitations has run.” Curiosity finally perked me up.
“Huh.” He sat back, studying me. “Then, yeah. I was boosting cars.”
My mouth dropped open, and I quickly shut it. Trying to remain composed, I breathed out. “So, it was true? The sheriff was right?”
Aiden chuckled. “Yeah. That old asshole