Page 33 of Diesel's Perseverance
“Sure. I’m used to being alone. I’m just wondering what’s expected of me.”
“Not much. The brothers hang together for a while, then everyone comes together to eat. It’s not that different from a citizen’s party where the women hang out with each other and the guys are in their own group talking shop, politics, or sports.”
“You’re right about that. I’m just not that good in large groups, but Cara seems friendly.”
“She is. You’re in good hands.”
Myla watched him walk away toward a group of men in jeans with leather vests. She recognized the men who lived at the clubhouse, but some of the others she’d never seen. A multitude of children ran from the backyard into the house and back outside, laughing and chattering.
“Come with me,” Cara said over her shoulder.
Myla followed her into one of the most beautiful gourmet kitchens she’d ever seen. “Your kitchen is gorgeous,” she murmured.
“Thanks. I love it. It’s great for entertaining.”
“You must cook a lot.”
Cara’s eyes widened. “You have no idea. Do you like to cook?”
“Sort of.”
“Do you come from a big family?”
“There are five of us, but we’re all scattered across the country.”
“I’m sure it makes getting together difficult,” she replied.
“How many kids do you have?”
“Four. I’m an only child, and so is Hawk, so we decided we wanted a big family. I always wished I had siblings.”
“My oldest sister became our surrogate mother in many ways. She was the one who got us ready for school, made sure we did our homework, cooked our dinners, and put us to bed. Looking back, I feel sorry she missed out on being a teenager.”
“Are you Diesel’s friend?”
Myla glanced at a woman with curly brown hair and electric blue eyes who was bringing a wineglass to her lips.
“I am.”
“This is Myla,” Cara said to the woman.
“I’m Belle. You don’t have a drink. We got red and white wine, any kind of liquor you can name, iced tea, lemonade, pop, and water with different types of things floating in it. I’m still not sure why Addie thinks plain ol’ water is taboo.”
Cara laughed, then glanced over at Myla. “I have plain water in the fridge if you want some.”
Myla smiled. “I’ll have a glass of white wine.”
“We could use your help in getting everything on platters,” Belle said.
Cara leaned over and said softly in Myla’s ear, “Belle putseveryoneto work.”
“I’d love to help.”
She followed Cara to the massive prep station and met several of the Insurgents’ wives. Soon she was scooping mounds of potato salad, macaroni salad, coleslaw, and ambrosia salad into large bowls. She expected the women to be standoffish and crass, but her preconceived notions were unfounded. They made her feel as though she belonged and was always a part of their group. It surprised her how much she was enjoying herself. Usually, Myla didn’t like being at large parties or in crowds because they made her feel uneasy and on guard, but that wasn’t the case now. These women were warm, authentic, and welcoming.
“Are you doing okay?” Diesel asked in a low voice, so close to her that his breath tickled her ear and made her pulse pound.
“I’m doing great.” She willed her voice to sound steady. “What about you?”
