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It took a bit, but finally, we flumped down on the bed in one big tangle of limbs.
“That,” Aidan said, “was fucking awesome.”
19
I can do this, I can do this, I thought as I hovered at the entrance to the mess hall.
“Are you OK, honey?”
Maisie, the head cook, stood next to me, looking out at the tables upon tables of men. Good-looking men. Very good-looking men, who were single, likely to feel an uncontrollable desire to have sex with me if I went into heat, and may be potential mates. I looked down at the tray of fried eggs I was holding and took a deep breath.
“I will be,” I replied belatedly.
“OK, well put them out and then start picking up plates. Finn’s talked to the guys. No one’s going to get inappropriate with you. You have any trouble? You come to me.”
She tapped a stainless steel ladle in her hand and scanned the crowd.
OK then.
I’d met Finn briefly, a tall guy with grey eyes who was one of Jules’ mates. He seemed nice. This will be fine, I thought, then took another deep breath and walked out.
I felt their eyes on my skin as I strode over to the bain-maries, zeroing in to where I could see there was an empty spot. I went past a line of men, each with a plate in their hands, but they weren’t looking at the food.
Walk, walk, walk…
“Excuse me,” I said when I reached the gap, men clustered on either side.
“No probs, love,” a deep voice said.
I glanced up to see a tall man with dark brown skin and a long tail of brown dreadlocks step back, the men around him quickly doing the same, until there was a wide path leading up to the metal servery. Almost an honour guard. I nodded my thanks, then moved up, ignoring the fact that my fingers were shaking, before I placed the tray over the hot steamy water and then stepped back.
“These look delicious,” another guy said with that self same bulky muscular body. God, no wonder they wanted eggs. These guys had to be on a solid protein diet to maintain such physiques. I realised my eyes were sliding over the mass of burly men before me, just standing there dumbly as they began to grin, before I snapped myself out of it. I smiled—because as a woman, what else did you do when things were awkward?—and stepped away, walking quickly over to the cleaning station. I wrapped my hands around a trolley handle and focussed on my breath.
In and out…in and out, I told myself. Stay here, stay grounded.
You stupid fucking bitch!
Rick’s voice was a whip crack, cutting through the ambient noise. I jumped at the sound of it, as if he was just there at my shoulder, and my eyes darted around.
Nope, not there. Here, in the mess, with all of these guys.
Me stalking towards Rick with that ashtray in my hand.
Nope, I’m walking over to the empty table, gonna scrape those plates clean.
My ears felt full, my head swollen, as everything started to sound echoey and distorted.
The blood seeping into the carpet. So, so red.
“Let me help you with that,” a guy said as he slid onto the vacant bench seat, pulling the leftover plates towards him and scraping the contents onto one, before he stacked the others neatly. I frowned and then shook my head, reality asserting itself with an abruptness that made my head spin. I could see the big strong hands as they moved, his short crop of brown hair. “Bloody grubby bastards, leaving their shit here to be cleaned up. We cleaned our plates for you over there.”
He pointed to a table where a cluster of men all sat there watching us, a stack of tableware sitting in the middle of them.
“Right,” I said, finding my voice. “Well, thanks…?”
“Keith,” the guy said with an impish smile, as if that had been his goal all along.
“Well, it's nice to meet you, Keith, but I’ve got this. You wouldn’t want me coming to your place of employment and doing your work, would you?”
