Page 66 of Trick
“But if – ”
Trick put a finger over my lips to stop me. “No, Lauren. No buts, no what ifs. This is absolutelynotyour fuckin’ fault.”
He put his arm around me and pulled me into his side, and I rested my head on his bare shoulder. I was shaken to the core by what he’d told me, and despite what he said, I couldn’t stop the feeling of guilt that Dustin had been hurt because of me.
We sat there quietly, until Elvis made it known that he wanted his breakfast, too. I took care of him, while Trick took a quick shower and got dressed.
“You’ll drive yourself crazy sitting in here all day. Let’s walk over to the garage and you can visit with your uncle for a while.”
We found Uncle Bill sitting in his office at the garage. Sinner was there, too, kicked back in a chair and sipping on a cup of coffee. They’d heard about Dustin already and lectured me on not feeling guilty.
“That’s what I told her, too, but I don’t think it helped,” Trick pointed out.
“She’s hard-headed, that one,” Uncle Bill grumbled to him, talking about me as if I weren’t even in the room.
Sinner snorted and asked, “I wonder where she gets that from?” My uncle scowled at him and flipped him off.
It was obvious from the crumbs on the plate in front of them that the two men had been enjoying the muffins that Ella made, too, and conversation soon turned to the weight they both claimed to have gained since she started cooking for them.
I suspected they were trying to distract me from my thoughts about Beau and Dustin, something I became sure of when Trick told them about the dismal state of my kitchen and that he had offered to give me cooking lessons.
Uncle Bill gave me a sly grin, then launched into a story about the time I’d attempted to make barbequed chicken and had given everyone food poisoning. From the way Sinner grinned and started nodding along, it was clear he’d heard this story more than once over the years.
I groaned and ducked my head, as heat blazed along my cheekbones.
“When my brother was still alive, he’d shown her how to grill a steak. After he died, I stopped by the house to clean the gutters out, and Lauren offered to grill some barbequed chicken for dinner. The chicken was charred to a fuckin’ crisp on the outside, but I didn’t want to hurt her feelings, so I forced itdown. The problem was, it was still raw on the inside, only the barbeque sauce hid that fact until we’d eaten half of it,” he grimaced, looking slightly green at the memory of it.
“I’ve never been so damned sick in my life. It was comin’ out both ends, and to this day I can’t eat barbequed chicken without my asshole puckerin’ and my stomach heavin’.”
“I was only twelve years old,” I protested, “and Grandpa always insisted that steaks needed to be cooked medium rare. I just assumed that all meats were the same.”
“Your grandpa was a dumbass who couldn’t count to twenty-one unless he took his pants off, girlie. You should never have taken advice from him about anythin’,” he complained. “That miserable bastard gave me nothin’ but grief when he was alive, and I’m not one damned bit surprised that he managed to give me a case of the chicken shits from the afterlife.”
I couldn’t help but laugh, and he and Trick both looked pleased with themselves for getting my mind off things, even for a moment.
Lucky came in to speak to Viking about an issue with a customer, so Trick and I left the garage and walked across the courtyard to the main clubhouse building. Thursday mornings at the clubhouse were apparently very quiet, because there was no one in the common room.
He talked me into a game of darts, and then we moved over to the pool table, where Trick discreetly tried to palm my ass when I bent over to take a shot. It went wide, of course, and rolled into the side pocket without coming anywhere near the other balls.
I straightened abruptly, glancing around the room to make sure we were still alone. Trick just grinned and stepped upto the table. Within minutes, he’d cleared it, gloating about his superior pool-playing skills.
I narrowed my eyes and pinned him with a glare.
“You have superior grab-ass skills, which is why I missed my shot in the first place,” I insisted, although based on past experience, I would have missed the shot anyway. He didn’t need to know that though.
He smirked, then bent his head and kissed the tip of my nose. “You are so much fun to tease,” he whispered, putting our pool cues back in the rack mounted on the wall.
“Let’s go see if there’s anything in the kitchen for lunch, otherwise we’ll order something.”
I followed him into the kitchen, and he checked the contents of the refrigerator and huge pantry.
“There’s not a whole lot here, but I can make us a couple of grilled cheese sandwiches and heat up a can of soup.”
“Soup and sandwiches would be fine. Can I help with anything?”
“No, just have a seat and I’ll take care of it.”
He got the tomato soup ready for the microwave, adding milk instead of the water I usually used, and adding a sprinkle of dried basil to it, then set it aside and started preparing the sandwiches for the skillet.
