Page 21 of Property of Stone
He shook his head. “Story for another time, babe.”
Taryn doubted she’d be staying for that story time. “What does that yellow diamond mean?”
“Means we live by our own damn rules.”
That was no surprise. “I have to ask…is everyone here a biker?”
“You see anyone with a dick wearin’ a cut like mine, then yeah. You see pussy wanderin’ ‘round wearin’ a cut with rockers on the back statin’ they’re property of the Kings, then no. They’re a club whore.”
“Juicy isn’t wearing a cut.” She wasn’t wearing much of anything.
“‘Cause I just got done fuckin’ her, babe. She tends to lose track of her shit.”
“If you don’t mind not calling me?—”
“Babe.”
“Yes, that.”
One corner of his mouth pulled up. At least she could see his mouth, unlike Patch’s.
He lifted await-a-minutefinger and took his now-empty mug over to Juicy and the guy with his cock in her mouth. Hehanded it to Juicy. Did he want her to stop what she was doing so she could get him a refill?
“Case you need to spit. ‘Cause Grim’s cum’s probably hard to swallow.” He headed back in Taryn’s direction. “Unlike mine,” he added.
The creases at the corners of his eyes deepened with amusement and his grin totally changed his face. It made him look approachable and actually pleasant to look at. Unlike when he was scowling.
He pulled a pack of Marlboro’s from inside his vest—cut—and tucked one between his lips. After putting away the pack, he patted his vest—cut—until he found a lighter. After a few flicks of the Zippo, the tip glowed red and he sucked the smoke deep into his lungs.
It escaped his mouth when he asked, “Why’s it that color?”
“My chef’s coat?”
“That what it is? Thought chefs wore white.”
Today she had worn turquoise, but she had one in every color of the rainbow. “Some do. Some like a little more excitement in their life.”
His brow dropped low. “How’s wearin’ that color excitin’?”
It wasn’t to him, apparently. His excitement came from handing a mug to a woman on her knees while she gave head. “I guess I live a boring life.” After comparing hers to Juicy’s, she was perfectly fine with boring.
“Got a restaurant?”
“No.”
His eyebrows pinned together. “Where you work, then?”
“I’m a personal chef. I cook in people’s homes or at their events. Like for a family Thanksgiving, an anniversary, or birthday party. I travel to my clients. They don’t travel to me.I also teach cooking classes sometimes when asked. There’s a coffee shop in Camp Hill that requests me a lot.”
Teaching those classes gave her some much-needed extra cash since Vic was so far behind on his child support payments.
“Bet they make better coffee than Windy.” He took another drag on his cigarette and shot the smoke out of his nostrils. “So…like…whaddya make?”
She frowned. “What do I make? Food.” Was he dense? And why was he asking all of these questions? Did she have to tell him outright that she wasn’t interested in being his bestie?
He huffed, “Yeah, no shit. Like what?”
She wanted to roll her eyes at him but wasn’t sure if he’d get offended. “Do you want me to run down my full menu options?”
