Page 26 of Klutch's Kryptonite

Before she can respond, Rachel returns with two massive plates of steak and eggs with hash browns and toast. Demi’s eyes widen at the sheer amount of food.

“I can’t eat all this,” she protests.

“Try,” I encourage, already cutting into my steak. “Food this good shouldn’t go to waste.”

She hesitates for just a moment, then digs in with surprising enthusiasm. I find myself watching the way her lips close around her fork, how her throat moves when she swallows.

Christ, I need to get a grip.

“So what exactly does a Sergeant-at-Arms do?” she nods toward the patch on my chest.

I take a sip of my coffee, deciding how much to tell her. “I enforce club rules. Handle security. Make sure everyone stays in line.”

“Sounds... intense.”

I shrug. “It can be.”

“Like fighting?” She tilts her head, studying me. “You’re really good at that, by the way.”

“Thanks,” I say, oddly pleased by her compliment. “Been doing it a long time.”

“How long?”

“Since I was eighteen,” I tell her, surprised I’m sharing even that much. “My old man was a fighter too. It’s in the blood.”

She nods, seeming genuinely interested. “What does he think about you being in a biker gang?”

“Club,” I correct her quickly. “We’re a club. Not a gang. And my pop is a member of the club. He’s the Chaplain now.”

Her eyes widen. “You’re dad is a biker too? Wow.” She shakes her head and her brows dip. “Wait. Chaplain? Like... a religious thing?”

I laugh, almost choking on my coffee. “Shit. You’re killing me, Blue.” How do I explain that my pop is a bad motherfucker who’d slit a man’s throat without blinking? I shake my head and chuckle. Fuck it. “Not exactly. He keeps the peace in a way. Makes sure brothers aren’t getting too far out of line.”

“And your mom?”

“Still married to my old man. Going on almost thirty years now.”

Something flickers across her face but the shutters come down before I can figure it out. “That’s nice,” she says softly. “That they’re still together.”

I reach across the table without thinking, brushing a strand of hair from her face. She stills at my touch, those bright blue eyes locking onto mine. “What about your folks?”

“My mom died when I was twelve,” she says quietly. “It’s just me and my dad now.”

“I’m sorry,” I tell her, meaning it. I can’t imagine losing my mother. It would destroy me.

She shrugs, trying to look nonchalant but not quite pulling it off. “It was a long time ago.”

“Doesn’t mean it doesn’t still hurt.”

She looks surprised by my honesty, I’m a little surprised myself. I don’t usually give a fuck how women feel. I’ve alwaysbeen a hit-it and quit-it kind of man, but something about Blue feels different. Shaking off the thought, I dig into my food.

We finish our meal in silence, and when Rachel brings the check, I snatch it up before Demi can even reach for it.

“I can pay for my own food,” she protests.

“I know you can,” I tell her, sliding a fifty into the leather folder without even looking at the total. “But you’re not going to.”

She looks like she’s gearing up to throw some more sass my way, but seems to think better of it. “Thank you,” she says softly instead.

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