Chaos series by Kristen Ashley

Tomorrow would be filled with me unpacking, cleaning my old place and doing the chores I didn’t do when Travis was around but now needed to do because I hadn’t done them in a week.

And then Travis and I would finally be in a nice place. The kind of place you’d want to give your baby.

I couldn’t wait.

I still wanted nothing more than to curl up somewhere and take a nap.

This was because the flu had hit the cashiers at LeLane’s and was now sweeping through the store. It was not the twenty-four hour flu. More like the ninety-six hour flu. Another two cashiers had gone down, a produce guy, two butcher boys, and a floral technician. It was all hands on deck at LeLane’s and I had hands, so they used them. I’d taken extra shifts, double shifts or shifts and a half.

This would be awesome normally. I was racking up a ton of time and a half.

But I also had my son. I didn’t mind working like that when he was with Aaron, but I hated doing it when I had him.

Not to mention, I had boxes to pack and all sorts of stuff to do, like find time to make a half a dozen calls to switch over utilities.

So I’d been on the go for days, sorting things out on breaks and lunch, forcing myself to pack at least five boxes before calling it a night, thus getting minimal sleep and dragging myself out of bed and getting on the go again.

Just to say, if I never packed another kitchen up in my life I’d be happy. It seemed like nothing but all the stuff was hidden behind the cupboards. When you had to take it out, wrap it up and box it, it seemed like it could fill ten kitchens.

Because of this, I hated to admit it, and tried my best not to, but when I handed Travis over to Aaron the day before, I’d actually been relieved. I needed a break any way I could get it. And I’d been so preoccupied with the move, I hadn’t really noted that it was Aaron I handed him over to. He’d answered the door. He’d also tried to engage me in conversation, taking a close look at me and asking if I was all right.

I’d allowed this (though I didn’t share how I was doing) since he needed to know I was moving so I told him that and that I’d text my new details to him. Then I’d bent in, given my boy a kiss, and took off, my mind filled with what I had to do next (a shift) at the same time battling the desire to crawl into the backseat of my car and sleep for a week.

Not surprisingly, Joker noticed the toll all this was taking and stepped in, bringing Chaos with him. Big Petey, Joker, and once Tabby and Shy looked after Travis while I worked. And after Joker saw me nearly fall into a box, losing my fight against sleep, Tyra, with Lanie and Tabby, came over to finish packing the boxes when I was at work.

So, obviously, buying a bunch of cream puffs, éclairs, mille-feuilles, and petit fours at half off because the customer who’d ordered them hadn’t picked them up, plus my extra twenty percent employee discount, was in order.

It had already been in order but it was currently more in order.

And luckily, due to my next paycheck being augmented, I could actually (mostly) afford it.

LeLane’s still was in the throes of the flu epidemic, but the two cashiers who’d first gone down were back, which meant I had two days off.

Two days off where I’d be moving stuff in, unpacking it, doing chores, and running errands.

I couldn’t wait to live in that house.

But I needed another day off.

Or three.

I was dead on my feet.

Or, more aptly, dead on my behind on a stool at Chaos.

I was also faking it. I was getting to know these people, and if they got one whiff I was struggling, they’d kidnap me, take me to the nearest luxury hotel, lock me in a room, and only disturb me to send up a massage therapist and, maybe, a skin technician.

“Babe, this is cool,” Tack said, and I focused on him to see him tipping his head to the bar laden with pastries but he was looking at me. “Unnecessary but cool.”

I pinned a bright smile on my face as I contradicted, “Necessary and the least I could do.”

He grinned.

Boz, with a ring of chocolate stuck in the long whiskers around his mouth, declared, “Never stepped foot in that store. Thought they were up their own asses. They got éclairs like this, I’m goin’ every day.”

Bonus, I’d bought LeLane’s a new customer.

He shoved the second half of his fourth éclair in his mouth and I turned my bright smile to him.

“Shee-it! What the fuck?” I heard hooted by Hound (who was at the other end of the bar, annihilating the petit fours).

After that I heard a catcall and a low whistle.

And finally, Boz shouted, “Fuck me. Joke cleans up good!”

That made my grin genuinely though I didn’t understand the reaction to Joker since I hadn’t seen him yet. Still, any promise of Joker in my vicinity would make me grin and do it genuinely.

Joker had told me he had something to do that morning and would come and get me around nine thirty. I told him I had something to bring to the Compound so I’d meet him there.

Now he was there.

And that made me happy.

Until he came into view.

That made me freeze.

It was him. I knew it was. I could see his eyes. The color of his hair. His usual faded jeans, tee, and leather jacket.

I could also see his face.

All of it.

He’d shaved.

He’d also had his hair cut. It was trimmed at the sides, not a crew cut or anything, but a lot shorter, messy and long-ish on top but not as long as it used to be. It still fell over his forehead, but not like before.

He had a very nice jaw.

He even had attractive ears.

And last, he did not look like him. Even if he still did.

No, he now looked like a boy I once knew. A boy grown up.

Carson Steele.

His eyes fell on me and his lips moved as he kept coming toward me.

“Hey, Butterfly. You ready for today?”

I didn’t answer.

I was busy staring.

This couldn’t be true.

I kept staring wondering how I could miss this. Wondering how this could be real.

But I hadn’t missed it. The very first time he got close on the shoulder of I-25, I knew I knew him. And later that first meeting, I’d felt the same way. And again and again, repeatedly.

I knew that I knew.

But I couldn’t put my finger on it because he’d changed. He had the years since we’d last seen each other written on his face, in every inch of his frame.

But it was more. The hair. The beard. The bulk on his body. The way he held himself. The way he dressed. The company he kept.

Carson Steele had been a loner.