Spec (Hell's Handlers MC Florida Chapter 2)

“Morning,” she announced, chipper as hell. She went straight to Brooke. The two of them embraced. “How can I help?” She was all smiles, but Scott saw the tension running beneath the mask. Tension he’d put there.

“The muffins are ready to come out of the oven. Mind grabbing them for me?” Brooke asked.

“You got it.” After grabbing a mitt, Liv bent over and retrieved a tray of muffins.

Wait, Liv? When the hell had he started thinking of her as Liv instead of Olivia?

Scott groaned as those damn shorts pulled tight across her truly stellar ass. The kind of round ass he’d kill to get his hands on. Fuck, this was going to be a long breakfast. The pungent scent of burning food hit his nose. He glanced down at the griddle with a curse.

Scorched to shit.

Yeah, he definitely needed to punch something today.

“SERIOUSLY, BROOKE, I’M so sorry I overslept. I would’ve been here earlier to help,” Olivia said as she set the piping hot pan of muffins on a cooling rack as instructed. She’d never tell Brooke she had no clue what she was doing and hadn’t made a muffin, well, ever.

Fake it till you make it.

Brooke rested a hand on her forearm. “No, I’m the one who’s sorry. I didn’t want you to feel obligated to come if this group is too much for you, so I didn’t tell you about the breakfast. But I should’ve let you make that decision. I really am sorry, Livy.” She gave a gentle squeeze before releasing her.

The humiliation she’d felt crashing a breakfast she hadn’t been invited to turned into affection for the woman who’d given her a safe haven, no questions asked. “I can handle them,” she said with more confidence than she felt. At the very least, she could pretend. Her false bravado skills were excellent.

“Good. Then I’m glad you’re here. It’s nice to have another double X chromosome to balance all these Ys.

“Heard that,” Scott muttered as he scraped a plateful of pancakes into the trash.

“See what I mean?” Brooke winked. “Can you please rescue that man before we’re eating McDonald’s breakfast sandwiches?”

Olivia hesitated. Her gaze went to the muscular expanse of Scott’s back, where he cursed at the griddle as he attempted a second batch of pancakes. She’d been up half the night scrolling Lance’s social media accounts from her new phone. Convinced he was still in Chicago and nowhere near her, she’d finally been able to set the phone down but still couldn’t quiet her mind enough to sleep until well past midnight.

“Sure,” she said, straightening her shoulders. She could handle this. All she had to do was keep from giving in to her instinct to snap at him if he got grumpy with her.

And she could do that.

This should be a piece of cake.

With a fortifying inhale, she made her way across the large industrial kitchen to where Scott hovered over two griddles. “Need some help with that?” she asked in as friendly a tone as she could muster.

His back stiffened before he rolled his shoulders. A glance over her head, probably at Brooke, had him sighing. “Yeah. I’m a shit cook.”

She gave him a half-smile then stepped up next to him. “I’m not the best either, but I think we can handle flipping a few pancakes between the two of us.”

He grunted and handed over the spatula. She flipped the ones he’d poured onto the griddle, then grabbed the bowl and scooped more batter. Scott stayed quiet but kept that laser-sharp gaze on her. She had to consciously keep her hand from trembling, especially when he reached in front of her to grab his coffee, and she got a whiff of a clean, fresh, soapy male scent. God, the man smelled like some insane combination of strength and fresh laundry, if that was even possible.

They worked in silence as Brooke buzzed in and out of the kitchen. Given the way Scott felt about her, their proximity and the silence should’ve felt more awkward, but it was oddly comforting. His large, imposing presence had her feeling safer than she had since leaving Chicago. Nothing would happen to her while Scott was nearby.

Unless he killed her himself, of course.

Brooke disappeared through the doors again, prompting Scott to finally break the silence. “I’m sorry about this morning.”

Her eyes bugged, and she bit her lip to keep her jaw from hitting the floor.

He huffed a laugh and rolled his eyes. “Accusing you of bailing on Brooke’s invite. I didn’t know she hadn’t told you about breakfast.”

Oh, my God, the man apologized. To her. Sure, his grimace made her think it physically hurt him to apologize, but he’d done it. “I… uh, it’s fine.” Profound, Livy. Truly. “I mean, it’s all right. You were just looking out for your friend. It’s admirable, really.”