Three Kings, One Night (Lost Kings MC #2.5) (4 page)

He helps me unwrap the little ornaments I keep stashed away. Nothing special, but they make me happy.

“Oh, hang on. Rock got me these little strands of Christmas lights, let me grab those before we start sticking the ornaments on.”

Wrath gives me a strange look, but doesn’t say anything as I dash down the hall to my room. There’s a bag with an extra tiny strand of lights and small ropes of gold garland that Rock dropped off at my door before leaving to manage the MC’s strip club, Crystal Ball, today. At the time I had no idea what he expected me to decorate with them. Unusually flustered, Rock mumbled something about waiting for Z and took off.

Of course when Z stopped by with the little potted tree, it all made more sense.

I feel like I’m missing something, but glancing around my room doesn’t give me any idea what it is, so I shut the door behind me and walk back to the living room.

Wrath’s busy unwrapping ornaments for me and setting them out in neat little rows. He’s so precise it makes me laugh.

He glances at me with a lop-sided grin. “What?”

I gesture at the rows of ornaments and he shrugs. “I never knew you were so anal.”

He wiggles his eyebrows at me. “I can be if you’d like.”

“Jerk.” I give him a playful punch in the arm, which honestly probably hurt me more than him. His arms are like granite.

He taps the bar top with his finger. “Some of these are way too big for that little tree.”

“I know.”

We decorate the tree in no time. When we get the last strand of garland wrapped around it, Wrath lifts his head. For a second I almost get lost in his ocean blue eyes that I used to love so much.

“Are you cooking something?”

“Oh my god!” I jump up and race down to the kitchen. Wrath’s heavy footsteps pound down the hall after me, but I’m more focused on getting to the oven in time. I’d forgotten all about the cookies!

What the hell?

One minute we’re sitting here havin’ a moment, decoratin’ her tree, the next she’s off and running down the hall like a scalded cat.

“Trin, you okay?”

The scent of burned cookies reaches my nose and I gag a little.

I flip on the oven fan and open the back door to clear the room.

“Dammit!” Poor Trin looks like she’s going to cry.

Rushing over, I grab the tray of ruined cookies out of her hand without thinking. The metal sears my fingers. “Fuck! That’s hot.” The tray goes flying on the counter as I shake off the sting.

Her honey eyes sparkle with amusement. “Duh, it just came out of the oven.” Then she goes and waves her oven mitts in my face.

While I’m running my hand under some cold water I ask her if she’s okay.

“Yeah, my cookies are ruined though.”

A glance at the little black lumps confirms this. “Yeah, no saving those. Can you make more?”

“I can. They’re just a pain in the ass. I still have half a batch of dough for them though. Rock and I are the only ones who eat them, so it’s not a big deal.”

My face scrunches up. I hate those little ginger cookies, she and Rock love so much. Fucking ginger has no business being in baked goods.

“What else you making this year?”

I know she makes her regular cookies and one new one every year, so I’m curious to know what the new one is.

She grins. “Brownie cookies are the new ones this year.”

“Sounds like a chick thing.”

“Good, then you don’t get any.”

“Oh, you’ll give me your cookies, or else, little girl,” I tease her in an especially low, pervy voice.

She giggles, her burned cookies forgotten. “You sound so creepy.”

“That’s what I was goin’ for, baby.”

Still laughing, she shakes her head at me, and reaches for an apron. For the first time today, I take in the entire room. She’s got four neat little stations set up in our large, industrial-sized kitchen.

She follows my gaze around the room. “I need another oven,” she says.

“You got two.”

“Yeah, and like eleven bikers to bake cookies for.”

Something about the way she says that strikes me funny.

“Stop laughing at me.”

“I’m not Trin. Swear.”

Messing with Trinity when she’s in the cooking zone is never a good idea. She hates it when any of us touch stuff in her kitchen. Especially when she’s in the middle of a project.

I pull out a beer, sit at the kitchen table, and watch her work instead.

“You mind if I open another window, babe? It’s hotter than hell in here.”

“Yeah, sure.”

When I turn around I have to stifle a groan. She’s stripped off her sweatshirt and is left standing there in a skimpy tank top and flannel pants. Like most girls, she’s got an elastic stashed somewhere on her body, and she gathers up all her pretty gold hair, tying it up in a messy knot on top of her head.

Fuck, she’s cute.

“Do you want some Christmas punch?”

“No thanks, babe.” That stuff she makes is so sweet, it makes my teeth sweat thinking about it.

It seems like hours go by as I watch her work.

“You don’t have to stay here, Wrath. I’m fine. There’s got to be someplace else you’d rather be on Christmas Eve.”

The truth is, there isn’t anywhere else I want to be. But I don’t know how to say that to her after all the shit we’ve done to each other.

When I don’t answer, she throws a glance at me over her shoulder. “Don’t want to hang at Crystal Ball with Rock?”

“Fuck no. Nothing more depressing that a strip club on Christmas Eve.”

“Poor Rock, I’m sure he’s having a rough night.”

Inside I’m laughing my ass off. Rock thinks none of us know he’s stopped nailing his regular stable of girls while he’s pining away for his hot lawyer chick.

“What do you know about it?”

Trinity snickers. “You think the girls aren’t talking about that all the time? Cookie’s lost her fuckin’ mind over it.”

“Christ, don’t we have some rule around this place that says no gossiping about the guys?”

She snorts. “Good luck with that.”

By the time she’s done with her baking, she’s flushed and sweaty all over. I approach her with the intention of helping her clean up the mess she’s made. Except she’s walking backwards from the oven and bumps right into me. I cup my hands over her shoulders to steady her. Out of nowhere it hits me that my hands are touching her bare, warm skin.

Without even thinking about it, I lean down and press my lips to her neck. Fuck, she smells good. Spices, sugar, and something else unique to Trinity.

My hand slides into her hair, tugging it free from the elastic. All her soft, golden waves fall down around her shoulders.

“Wyatt,” she whispers and my eyes pop open at her tone. She’s still holding a tray of cookies in her trembling hands.

“Set the tray down, Trin.” I growl the words in her ear and almost lose it when she shivers against me.

She sets the tray down.

“Are you all done out here?” I whisper in her ear.

My cheek brushes against hers and she’s burning up. Not surprising since she’s been in front of the ovens for hours, but I’m still concerned. Grabbing her chin, I turn her face toward me. She’s all flushed, but not in the way I’d been hoping for. As I press the back of my hand against her forehead, I also notice how glassy her eyes are.

“Trin, you okay?”

She answers in a shaky voice. “I don’t feel so good, Wyatt.”

My gaze skips to the pitcher of Christmas punch. “How much did you have to drink?”

“I dunno,” she answers weakly.

All of a sudden she jerks out of my grasp and rushes to the sink. Hands curled over the lip she leans over and retches.

“Shit, babe.” I feel so fucking useless, standing there, holding her hair, rubbing my hand in circles over her back. I’d do anything to stop the violent spasms taking hold of her body.

After an eternity, she stops puking, runs some cold water over her wrists and splashes her face. A miserable groan drifts out of her.

“You okay, baby?”

“I don’t know. I’m so sorry.”

“For what?”

Instead of answering, she turns away and starts spewing again.

“Honey, you think I should take you to the hospital?”

“No,” she groans. “You don’t have to stick around. I’m gross.”

Like fuck am I gonna leave her alone when she’s this sick.

“Babe, it’s fine.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Stop sayin’ you’re sorry. I mean, I know we don’t always get along, but puking your guts out just ‘cause I kissed you, seems a little extreme, don’t you think?”

She lets out a soft chuckle and I can’t even describe how grateful I am to hear it.

“Can you help me out to the living room?”

“Don’t you think you should go to bed?”

“No. I’d rather sleep out on the couch if I’m sick.”

“Okay. Hold on. Try not to barf on me.”

As gentle as possible, I swing her up into my arms and carry her down the hall to the living room. I drop her on the couch without jarring her too much.

Her teeth are clicking together like crazy. “I’m so cold.”

“Give me a second.” It takes a few minutes, but I locate a bunch of clean blankets and get a fire going in the fireplace. After I get her all bundled up, she snuggles into the blankets and sighs.

“Better?”

“Mmmhmm.”

Just in case, I set a bucket on the floor next to her. Before settling in next to her, I bring her little tree over and set it on the coffee table, so she’ll see it when she wakes up.

***

Ugh. I wanna die.

I can’t remember the last time I felt this awful.

While I don’t have a high tolerance for alcohol, it’s never made me this sick. I’m guessing I caught the flu or something. I hate being sick. I hate puking.

I really hate being weak in front of anyone.

Especially Wrath. I’m burning up. Not only from fever, but from humiliation.

Slowly I slide my foot down the couch and my toe connects with something solid.

“Wyatt?”

He seems to startle awake with a sharp intake of breath.

“What do you need? You okay?”

“My tummy hurts.”

“There’s a bucket if you think you’re gonna be sick.”

Reaching out from under the blanket, my hand flaps around in the air until it connects with the bucket.

“Thanks.”

“Think you can keep some water down? I don’t want you to get dehydrated.”

I groan at the thought. I never want to eat or drink anything again.

“You don’t have to stay with me. I’m okay.”

He snorts. “I ain’t leaving you alone like this. Go back to sleep.”

“Okay.”

Eventually I drift off.

‘Round midnight, Teller steps in the front door. Before he can open his loud mouth, I motion for him to be quiet.

“What up?” he whispers.

“She’s sick.”

“Aw, fuck. She said she didn’t feel well this morning.”

Setting aside my jealousy, I curl my finger at him to come closer.

“Can you sit with her? I’m gonna go clean up the kitchen. She just finished baking all her cookies when she got sick.”

“Yeah, sure. Bring me back a cookie.”

I mutter a “fuck you” at him and he laughs.

Teller takes my place on the couch and even though I don’t want to leave, I do. ‘Cause if I know Trinity, sick or not, she’ll be up tomorrow fixing up the kitchen.

When I’m done with the clean up, I poke around in the fridge. Annoyed I can’t find what I want, I slam the door.

Teller’s still awake, staring at the tree when I walk back into the living room.

He tips his chin up at the tree. “You get that for her?”

“Nah. Z did. Rock got her those little lights.”

He just nods in return. “That’s cool.”

“How’s Bug?”

A grin lights up my friend’s face. He loves that lil’ brat something fierce. “She’s good. Got some boy from school sniffin’ around her. Murphy all but pissed around the house to scare him away.”

I gotta slap my hand over my mouth, so I don’t bark out a laugh that wakes Trin up. “Nice.”

I’m so tense and on edge, I can’t sit still. “I’m gonna run out and get some ginger ale or somethin’ for her. She’s gonna get dehydrated and feel ten times worse if she doesn’t drink somethin’. You’ll sit with her?”