by Cathryn Cade
“That’s fine.”
“Wonderful. See you at about seven?”
“We’ll be there. And thank you, Rissa.”
RaeAnn was relieved to learn that Connor liked Streak a lot, so she did not have to coerce or persuade him to come with her to Rissa and Streak’s place.
They drove into Airway Heights, along the main road among pickup trucks, semis, and other vehicles, and turned off by a local burger joint, which was clearly very popular.
A lane led back to an older two-story home. The main floor now had plate glass windows and doors, bearing the tasteful logo of Iris Salon.
“Let me check if their dog is out,” Con said, peering into the darkness beside the house. “She’s a great dog, but she’s a little wild. She jumps on people sometimes.”
He got out, whistled, and beckoned to RaeAnn.
She got out of her SUV and followed him to the door.
Rissa was a pretty blonde with a big smile and perfectly cut and styled hair. She was also very pregnant.
“Come in,” she greeted them, holding the door open into an old-fashioned kitchen. “Welcome. Connor, Streak and Javi are upstairs watching a game. Grab yourself a soda from the fridge and go on up. RaeAnn, what can I get you to drink? I have chardonnay, ginger ale, herb tea, water.”
“Water’s fine.”
Glass in hand, RaeAnn followed her hostess through an open doorway into the salon. It was every bit as up-to-date and attractive as the website had promised, with cream walls and woodwork highlighted with metallic and purple accents.
Two stylist stations with sinks graced the right side of the room before a wall of mirrors. On the far left sat a small table and chair suitable for nail care, and a bathroom filled one corner.
A half-wall separated the work area from waiting area and reception desk.
“Your salon is lovely,” Rae said. And unexpected in the old house.
“Thank you,” Rissa said happily. “It’s all new. Iris is my real name—I don’t answer to it, but I do love the flower for my salon logo. One of these days when we’re finished paying off Streak’s law school loans, we’ll move ourselves to a bigger place and keep this for the salon. But for now, this works.”
She indicated the client stations. “Have a seat, tell me what you think of my chairs.”
RaeAnn sat and nodded. “Cushy. I like.”
“Right? So do my clients. So tell me about working at Brilliance. I met, what’s her name, Brin? At a convention.” She made a face.
Rae huffed a laugh. “Britt. She’s… difficult. She fired me for taking time off unexpectedly.”
Rissa raised her brows. “My husband thinks she was more concerned about being targeted by that gang, the Boyz.”
“Maybe… probably, yes.” Rae sighed. “Anyway, here I am, unemployed.”
“You could probably argue unfair labor practices, and either get your job back, or money.” Rissa watched her with a neutral expression.
Rae shook her head. “No. If I were in dire straits, I might do that. But I’ll find another position, and she can kiss my butt.”
Rissa laughed. “Spoken like a Flyer old lady. So tell me about you and Cooler.” She gave Rae a mischievous smile and sipped her ginger ale.
RaeAnn shook her head, her cheeks warm. “That man… He has a big heart and the most devious mind of anyone I know. And if we get through this time without me murdering him, it will be a miracle.”
Rissa laughed harder. “Oh, my God, that’s so perfect. If we could have conjured a woman for him, it would be you.”
RaeAnn blinked. “We?”
“Erm…” Rissa wrinkled her nose. “The Flyer old ladies are pretty tight. And we talk. Not about you,” she added quickly as RaeAnn drew back. “Don’t worry about that, it’s not like you’re walking into the mean girls’ club or anything. But we talk about our men. And Cooler is—well, he’s one of the last single guys in the club, and we’ve all wondered why. Till he started talking about you.”
“What?” Rae stared at her. “About me? No, he’s… he’s been with plenty of other women, trust me. He’s not hung up on me.”
Rissa shrugged. “Okay. Well, anyway… I invited you over so we could get to know each other, and because as you can see, I’m going to need to slow down pretty soon. My baby is due in November, and my back bothers me if I stand too long. So, I’m wondering if you’d be interested in coming to work with me. It could be on a trial basis if you’d rather. I mean, you might find another position you want, I get that. But if you were at Brilliance, you’re good, and I need help.”
“Oh, wow,” Rae breathed. “I… yes. I’d like that. If your clients are okay with it.”
Rissa grinned. “They will be. Or they can drive into Spokane, right? Anyway, the old ladies are half of my clientele.”
What? RaeAnn took a long drink of ice water. Nothing like knowing if she screwed up, she’d have to face them all at parties. But then, she hadn’t screwed up a hair process since she was in her first month of beauty school, so no worries.
She nodded. “When would you like me to start?”
“Tomorrow? I have three trims and a keratin treatment in the morning, then a full set of highlights and another trim in the afternoon.”
Rae took a breath and blew it out. “Okay. Sure.”
“Great!” Rissa said. She peered out the front window at the small yard and parking area. “And now, I hear a car. So here come some more old ladies for you to meet. I hope Manda brought the party mix. The baby wants a snack.”
Within fifteen minutes, RaeAnn had been introduced to Della, a tall beauty with raven hair, and Lesa, a lovely brunette who was even more pregnant than Rissa.
Rae quickly gave up her comfy salon chair to Lesa and sat beside Della on a nail tech chair.
Manda and Shelle arrived together, with two big bowls of party mix. “This one’s low-salt,” Manda said, holding up the yellow plastic bowl.
“Oh, thank you,” Rissa cried. “I’m hungry, but my ankles are swelling, so I’m watching the salt.”
Lesa snorted. “I’m sure mine are, too. I just haven’t seen them for a month.”
“Have Pete give you a calf-and-ankle massage,” Rissa said, taking the yellow bowl and scooping up a handful of crispy snack mix. “It feels so good.”
“I can give you one now,” Shelle offered. “I’m learning therapeutic massage. Moke loves it.”
Lesa cackled. “I bet he does. You can give me the non-sexay verson of that, ‘kay?”
Everyone laughed, except Manda, who was looking longingly at Lesa’s round belly.
“We’re trying to get pregnant,” she said in a lull. “But so far, no luck.”
“Aww, I can’t wait till you do,” Rissa said. “Little ginger poppets running around.”
Manda nodded. “Or we could adopt.”
“Watch out, T will try to get five at once,” Della warned.
Manda giggled. “Probably. He loves babies and kids.”
Rae listened to the women tease each other, charmed by how well they got along.
“So, RaeAnn,” Della asked, a wicked glint in her eyes. “Have you seen Cooler’s special ink yet?”
RaeAnn looked around at the other women, all watching her. “No, I haven’t,” she said, her face heating with discomfort. “We’re not—we’re just sharing a house.”
“Oh, hell,” Lesa pouted. “I was hoping for some vicarious sexy talk, at least. Since that’s all I can get right now.”
Rissa caught RaeAnn’s eye and winked. “My doctor said no more intercourse, so I gave Streak a hand-and-mouth job a couple nights ago. He liked that just fine.”
“Whoa, you naughty girl,” Della said, smirking. “Rav was all about those for my last month. And he repaid in kind, let me tell you.”
Lesa growled under her breath. “I’m not even allowed to cum! I might go into labor. God, I hate my life.”
“I need a glass of wine,” Della announced. “Rae?”
�
�Yes,” Rae said fervently.
Shelle rose to follow them into the kitchen. She laughed gently at the look on Rae’s face. “We’re a bit much at first, but you’ll get used to us.”
“Speak for yourself,” Della said, handing Rae a glass of chardonnay. “I take a whole lot of getting used to. My biker man tells me that all the time.” She waggled her brows at RaeAnn.
Rae took a drink of wine and shrugged. “Holding your own against these guys takes a spine. I’m raising Mac’s teenage son, so if anyone understands, it’s me.”
“He’s a great kid,” Shelle said. “He has your smile.”
“He’s good with the littles,” Della added. “I plan to bribe him to babysit when Beau is older.”
Rae beamed at them. She could listen to praise for Con all night long.
They rejoined the other women and chatted for a while longer, until Lesa yawned widely. “Sorry, girls, but it’s my bedtime.”
“You’re not driving all the way out to your place when you’re this sleepy, are you?” Shelle asked.
“No, Pete’s at The Hangar. I’ll sleep on the sofa in his office till it’s time to head home. God knows I can sleep anywhere right now.”
“Oh, I almost forgot to tell you all,” Rissa said, waving a hand as she hoisted herself from her own chair. “Ladies, meet my new stylist. RaeAnn’s coming to work with me.”
They all smiled at Rae and gave their well wishes.
“Cool, I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon,” Della said. “But warning, you mess up my hair, I’ll cut you.”
Rissa smacked her on the ass. “Oh, stop your tough biker chick talk. Rae’s gonna turn tail and run before I even put her to work.”
“Fine, I’ll be nice,” Della grumbled, winking at RaeAnn. “Do a good job, and I’ll tell you about Cooler’s ink.”
“You haven’t even seen it,” Lesa protested. “Only Manda has.”
Manda flushed deeply, shaking her head at RaeAnn. “It was an accident!” she squeaked.
Rae managed a smile. “I’m sure it was. Well, thanks Rissa, I think I’ll collect Connor and head home.”
Rissa clasped her hands prayerfully. “Please come back. I won’t let any of these pills in the door if necessary.”
“I’ll be here,” Rae promised.
Manda managed to walk out with RaeAnn. “It really was just an accident, me, uh, seeing Cooler’s ink. I spilled hot coffee on him in the clubhouse kitchen, and he had to get his jeans off fast. Stick was there.”
Her phone buzzed, and she pulled it out of her pocket, still watching Rae anxiously.
“It’s okay, honestly,” Rae said. “Don’t worry about it.” She was glad to know that Mac hadn’t been having sexy times with the sweet-faced blonde, though.
“Oh, good.” Manda looked at her phone and then huffed a laugh. “It’s T. He wants to know if we’re all down to our panties yet.”
She and Rae both burst out laughing. “We should s-send him a picture, just to be mean,” Rae said.
“Oh, no. It would just encourage him.”
Manda hugged RaeAnn impulsively. “I’m so glad you’re here. See you soon, huh?”
Rae hugged her back. “You bet.”
She drove back to Mac’s house with a smile on her face.
The Flyers’ wives and girlfriends were pretty darn nice women.
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
Connor grumbled that the kids in his new high school were going to be a bunch of goat ropers and bunny huggers, which RaeAnn took to mean rodeo and 4H clubbers.
She ignored the remark, knowing that under his cocky facade—which he got from his father—he was nervous about having to acclimate to another new high school.
But he came home after his first day much more relaxed and even told them at supper that the soccer coach seemed cool, and the team had won their conference the year before.
Rae and Mac exchanged a look of shared pleasure. Their son would be okay at Cheney High.
“Another great thing about his going to high school in a small town like Cheney,” Mac told her later. “If any of the Boyz show up there, they’ll look out of place as lipstick on a pig. People will be watching them.”
Rae liked the sound of that.
The days went by, Connor settled into his new routine, and Rae into part time work at Iris and living in the same house as Mac.
When Mac was working, he was gone for 24 hours. 25, with commute time.
But when he was around, he seemed to always be in her vicinity.
She would turn around in the kitchen and he would be there reaching for a glass in the cupboard, so she bumped into him, getting a full on whiff of his scent, still tinged with that sexy cologne she remembered.
Or she'd be standing at the counter and he would come up behind her, so close she felt his warmth against her back through their clothes. He’d say. 'Oh, 'scuse me, babe, just need one of these,' as he reached for a paper towel which he could very well have reached from the other side of the kitchen island.
And whenever she came out of her bedroom in the morning, if he was home, whether she was dressed or just wrapped up in her blue, velour, cover-up robe with her hair just finger-combed and not a stitch of makeup on her face, he would smile at her and tell her she looked good. And do so in a way that told her he truly meant it.
And so, gradually, she dropped her guard.
She smiled back. When he stopped to lean against the counter as she chopped vegetables for a simple stir fry, she told him about her day and asked about his.
And when he touched her, a gentle hand to the small of her back as he escorted her into The Hangar, his favorite place to eat, she accepted it. Grew to expect it, and in her heart of hearts, loved it.
As a woman of sexual age and as a human being, Rae had been, without realizing it, starved for touch. Mac was a master of touch—affectionate, protective, and titillating.
And the worst part was that she wasn't sure he knew he was arousing in her a desire for more. Either that, or it was all part of one of his sneaky plans.
She gradually decided he was just being Mac and relaxed.
September 21st
Until the fateful evening that he and she attended a Saturday night party at the clubhouse.
At first, Rae had demurred, not wanting to leave Con at home alone after his recent troubles with the Boyz.
“That gang can find your house,” she told Mac.
Mac smiled smugly. “He won’t be here. Stick and Sara will be at the party—probably her last hurrah before their next set of twins come along—so Con’s spending the night at their place. Helping Webb and Velvet babysit Kick and Dash. They’re six now, and hell on wheels.”
“Webb and Velvet,” she repeated. “Con’s mentioned them. They sound like nice people.”
“Club’s official grandparents,” he said, his smile softening. “Webb’s a Vietnam vet, and one of the founding members of the club down in California. He and Velvet had one boy, lost him in Desert Storm. So they’ll never have their own grandkids, but in a way, they got a club full of them. The Vanko twins look on Webb and Velvet as just another set of real grandparents.”
“Oh,” she said softly. “That’s so sweet.”
“They’ve known Con since he was a little guy,” Mac added. “And they both have hearts of gold, but they put up with no shit from the kids, either.”
“The perfect grandparents.”
“Yeah. My folks love their grandkids like crazy, but they can’t say no. Spoil Con and my sister’s boys rotten.”
“And my mom loves Connor, but she has trouble showing it.” Ellen was more apt to ask Connor about his grades than his latest hobby or interest.
RaeAnn dressed with special care for the party. She knew darn well she was going to be on display that evening, and she wanted to look good.
She wore her favorite jeans, dark wash with same-color roses embroidered down the outside of the legs, and high-heeled cowgirl style booties. Over this she wore a thin, ca
ramel sweater with cut-out shoulders and a low vee neckline. Her favorite gold-tone necklace, an ornate design of intersecting beaded loops, let her cleavage play peekaboo. Matching earrings dangled low from her ears.
Her hair was done in long waves and her makeup dramatic, with smoky eyes and warm red lips.
There. She was ready. Picking up the little purse she’d gotten on clearance, caramel velvet beaded with a design of red roses, she hung it over her shoulder and headed downstairs.
The way Mac looked at her when she came down the stairs made every minute of primping worthwhile. His gaze riveted on her, he opened his mouth, shut it, and cleared his throat.
Then he shook his head in appreciation. “Mama,” he said simply. “Oh, yeah.”
“Why thank you,” she said. “You clean up well yourself.”
He wore a dark green western shirt, the sleeves rolled up on his strong forearms. This was tucked into a pair of dark wash jeans, and he also wore western boots.
His hair was slicked back from a recent shower, his skin tanned and ruddy with health and vitality. And as she neared him, she caught his scent—yum.
He took his cut from the back of a chair and twirled it up and over his back, sliding his arms in with the ease of long practice. Then he held out his arm toward the garage door. “Shall we? Connor, shake a leg. Time to go.”
“Coming!” Con thundered down the stairs behind them, and they were off.
The Flyers’ clubhouse parking lot was full this evening. A long row of big motorcycles lined the front of the building and cars, pickups, and SUVs filled the rest.
The evening sun slanted over the scene through a line of puffy clouds on the western horizon.
Connor said good-bye and headed across the field behind the clubhouse, to the Vanko’s big farmhouse. RaeAnn watched him go. He was joined midway by a big, black dog, who barked and wagged his tail happily, prancing alongside Con.
With him safely on his way, Rae turned her attention back to the clubhouse. Country music was pumping in the background, along with voices and laughter pouring out the open front doors.
