Cut Loose: Hellhounds MC by Stacey Broadbent

Author:Stacey Broadbent [Broadbent, Stacey]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2022-07-21T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-One

Sam

The smell of lasagne wafts through the air as I finish cleaning up the dishes and wiping down the bench. Lasagne is, and always will be, a comfort food to me. It reminds me of days spent in my grandmother’s kitchen, where she taught me how to read recipes, measure ingredients, and turn the mundane into something delicious. I remember singing to Buddy Holly while carefully layering the meat sauce with pasta sheets, homemade of course, and then spreading the top with oozy cheese sauce. It was my grandfather’s favourite, and it quickly became mine too. After every bite, he’d turn to my grandmother with pure joy, and he’d exclaim how exquisite it was. I knew he wasn’t just talking about the food.

“You’ve outdone yourself, sweetie-babes,” he’d say. “It is… perfection.” And he’d kiss the tips of his fingers.

I always hoped I’d have a love like theirs. One that lasted through the ages. I wanted a husband who’d dance around the living room with me, hold my hand as we strolled through the park on a summer’s day, and light a fire to keep me warm at night. A man who cherished me for who I am. An impossible task when I barely know myself anymore.

I’ve spent too long under the thumb of men who never really cared for me, and now my true identity is unknown even to me. Moving from town to town hasn’t given me the opportunity to forge friendships, or any type of relationship, for that matter. I have no hobbies to speak of, unless you count cooking for the man who’s taken it upon himself to be my personal protector. It’s been so long since I’ve had any semblance of freedom, and I don’t know what to do with myself. I don’t know how to find myself anymore.

“Something smells good.” Jericho tosses his keys on the table as he closes the door. “Lasagne?”

I turn, resting my hip against the counter and throwing the tea towel I’m holding over my shoulder. “Mmhmm. My grandmother’s recipe.”

“I meant what I said earlier, you know. You don’t have to cook for me.” He rounds the counter, his eyes dragging over the length of my body before settling on my face. “Not that I don’t appreciate it, of course.” He smirks, but there’s a wariness in his eyes. “I don’t ever turn down a home cooked meal. Better than what I manage to scrape together most nights.”

“I know I don’t have to, but I want to. I mean, I’m here, so I may as well put myself to good use.”

He runs his tongue across his bottom lip. “I can think of plenty of ways to put you to use, princess. And cooking isn’t one of them.” He chuckles, his lips falling into a smirk. “But I’ll take it.”

Butterflies swirl in my stomach as I avert my gaze, shuffling my feet. Why does he make me so nervous? He’s been nothing but kind to me, and yet, the way his eyes follow me is almost possessive, territorial.

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