Burned (Devil's Blaze MC #3)(75)

“Holy shit, it smells good in here!” The blond one says; and I was right, I really like him. The darker one cuffs him over the head.

“Show some respect to Sabre’s woman!”

I stop, and despite the tingle of excitement the man’s words bring, I need to set them straight.

“I’m not Sabre’s girlfriend, we just met today. I was stranded. He was just being nice. I’m lucky he runs a garage.”

“Sabre doesn’t run a garage.” I hear from behind as I go to the fridge to get them some drinks.

“I’m afraid all I have is water or soda? Well, I did make some peach tea this morning?”

“You make your own tea?” This time from the darker one.

“Well, yeah.”

“Tea is good!” They both say it in unison.

I’m not sure what to make of the looks on their faces. I go ahead and fill two glasses with my tea and some ice from the dispenser. By the time I get it done they’re sitting at the bar, so I slide the drinks over to them.

“Okay, I’ve got to know names here, I feel silly calling you the blond and dark one,” I tell them to break the ice because the silence makes me feel a little awkward. To busy myself, I go back to putting dessert together. I’m making a chocolate lasagna and it has to freeze for an hour, so I might as well do that while the guys are cooling down.

“We’ve been called worse, but I’m Keys and this ugly fuc…guy is Shaft,” he says already finishing his tea. He looks so forlorn at his empty glass that I get the pitcher from the fridge and bring it over to fill both of their glasses back up.

“Would you guys like to stay for supper?” I ask before I can second guess myself. I’m alone so often, and though I probably should be wary of having strangers in my house, something about these guys make me feel safe. It was the same feeling I got around Sabre, only with Sabre, it was more intense.

“Sure, let me just shoot a text to our road boss, we were supposed…speak of the devil,” he adds as his phone starts ringing.

“Yo. (Pause) No, we’re finished. Sabre’s woman just invited us to eat with her. C’mon man, it’d be rude to say no. Besides, she makes her own tea and shit, you should taste it.”

Again my face warms at being called Sabre’s woman. Why does he keep saying that? Why do I like it so much?

“Hey, Peaches? Torch and Beast want to come over and eat too, is it cool?”

I blink. Torch and Beast? Still, he asked, and it’d be rude to say no. I was always taught to never be rude. Then again, I was always taught to never have strange men in my home, either, and now I will have four.

“They’re all part of the club, Sabre would be cool with it,” Shaft says and I don’t know why that makes me feel better, but it does. “Sure, but I’m afraid it’s just meatloaf and mashed potatoes, some corn, and I am going to make a….”

“They’ll be here in ten,” he cuts me off.

I decide to just go with it. After all, Sabre would approve. Maybe I’m coming down with the flu? I shrug it off and ask the question that’s been on my mind since they introduced themselves.

“Now, I have to know, how did you get these names? Sabre? Keys? Shaft?”

The men look at each other for a minute and shrug. Shaft is the first one to speak up. “Well, Sabre got his because he’s freaky with knives. Like, I think he could kill a fly by throwing a knife from 100 feet away. Though some of the men say it’s because he’s like a sabre tooth tiger, once he bites into something, he really latches on. He doesn’t let go until the problem is gone or solved, whichever.”

I listen to him talk and put my dessert together without really paying attention. My mind pictures Sabre holding a knife and caressing the blade while he’s talking to me, and my breath lodges in my throat. I try to concentrate on the dessert, but I’m still thinking over what Shaft said about Sabre. I can’t help but be intrigued—even if I shouldn’t be.

Brittany, my big tabby cat, picks that moment to come in. She sniffs around the feet of Keys and swishes her tail at him. When he doesn’t take the hint, she grabs him with her claws, at the back of his leg. I’ve been on the receiving end of that little temper tantrum. It’s never good, even if he is wearing jeans.

“Ow! Son of a bitch!” He growls looking down to where Brittany is meowing at him and waiting. I get the feeling he wants to kick her into next week. To his credit, he doesn’t.

“That’s Brittany. She doesn’t like to be ignored. Sorry. If you pet her, she’ll move on,” I tell him, not bothering to admit that she’ll just move on to Shaft. “Now, how did you get your name, Keys?” I ask and look up to see he’s stroking Brittany behind the ear.

“There’s not a car I can’t hot-wire and start. You named your cat Brittany?”

I begin to answer him and then stop, “Why would you need to hot-wire a car?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” He asks in return and looks so thoroughly confused, I let it go. “So then, how did you get the name Shaft? Was it because of mechanical work? Or did you really get into that TV show or movie?” The silence stretches for so long that once I put the top layer of cream topping on the dessert and move it to the freezer, I have to look at them. “Well?” I prompt.