Revealing Annie - Freya Barker Page 0,99
again in a few minutes.”
“I’m on my way.”
“I’m fine,” I snap, but the next thing I know the line is dead.
See? It’s like he doesn’t even hear me. I’m not some wilting flower. I’ve seen and been subjected to more shit in my life than many ever will, but still he acts like I can’t take care of myself.
The fact I’ve developed a thing for the man over the past two years doesn’t exactly help.
He still pisses me off.
Brick
Damn stubborn woman.
She nips at my hand every goddamn time I reach one out.
So pigheadedly independent.
“Shilah, need you to come with me.”
The young prospect, or cub as they’re called in this club, wipes his hands on a rag and jogs after me to the truck.
“Where are we going?”
“Picking up Lisa, she’s stuck on the mountain in this weather. You’re gonna drive her car home.”
I crank the heat in the cab of the truck and drive out of the gates.
“There.”
Shilah points at Lisa’s piece of shit car barely visible through the windscreen. I drive past, hit up the first driveway I come across and turn back up the mountain. I pull up beside her car and tell Shilah to get out.
“Get her in here. Pull her the hell out if you need to,” I grumble, even though I know he’d never do that.
I watch as he opens her driver’s side door and gestures at the truck. I can’t see her reaction, but I can guess. The moment she gets out her angry dark eyes meet mine, but she climbs into the truck. I try not to notice the way her clothes look drenched and plastered to her body as she buckles in, her generous mouth pressed into a tight line.
“You hair looks nice.”
Don’t ask me what makes me say that. The only excuse I have is that I’m trying hard not to check out the hard nipples visible even through the sweater she’s wearing so I focused on her hair. I think this is the first time I’ve seen it natural and I like it.
“Save it. The hair’s a mess and you know it,” she snaps, keeping her head averted as she looks out the side window.
I figure it’s better just to keep my mouth shut until I let Shilah pull her car out in front of me and I see the back of her car packed with grocery bags.
“Groceries? Why would you go—”
She holds a hand to my face, effectively silencing me.
“Just don’t, Brick.” Her voice sounds tired, weary, and instead of tearing a strip off her for going to the store without help, I shut my mouth and put the truck in gear.
Back at the compound Shilah is already unloading the groceries as I pull up right outside the clubhouse so she can get out without getting wet. The moment she unclips the seat belt I reach over and touch her arm.
“I’ll go pick up the kids this afternoon.”
She turns to me, a little smile on her lips but she keeps her eyes down.
“Thanks, Brick, but I’m sure the storm will have blown over by then.”
“For crap’s sake, woman, would you let someone lend a hand from time to time? You’re plum worn out ‘cuz you’re too stubborn to accept any help.”
So much for my good intentions.
“I’m fine. I do fine by myself.”
“I ain’t debating that, and if it was just me I wouldn’t argue at all—I know you can barely stand to be around me—but plenty of other folks have offered and you turn us all down. Don’t know if you noticed but being family is a huge part of being part of an MC. We have each other’s backs.”
“Good for you,” she spits, getting out of the truck before turning to face me. “I’m not part of any MC, I’m just the cook.”
With that she throws the door shut and stomps into the clubhouse. I curse under my breath and put the truck in gear, pulling it up to the garage.
That afternoon I watch her climb into her wreck of a car and head back down the mountain to pick her kids up from school.
She probably already has something going for dinner, which she cooks for anywhere from six to nine kids and between six and a dozen adults. It all depends what is going on, and who is pulling up a chair at any given meal. Club events, holidays, cookouts, there are even more mouths to feed. On top of that she cleans, does laundry, and has her