Her eyes beg. Ask me why. Her working girl posture—shoulders back, chin up, hip cocked to push her ass out—kind of shifts until she don’t look like a stripper no more. She looks like that girl walkin’ with me through a dark field, trippin’ to stay in step, fearless ‘cause I’m there beside her.
Pure terror socks me in the gut, and despite the lingering numbness, it rocks me on my heels.
I stalk off and the door finally comes to a rest, but not before I see her stiffen and disappointment flash in those big, beautiful eyes.
I feel that, too, and holy Christ, it hurts.
I should quit this job. I could pick up some more bounty work to keep me busy, and it’s not like I need the money. I’ve had the thought a hundred times. I should walk away. I ain’t normally one to run, but in this case?
The blows are gettin’ harder and harder to take, and my skin ain’t gettin’ any thicker.
CHAPTER 3
STORY, AGE SEVENTEEN
“Why don’t you go talk to him?”
Fay-Lee wriggles up onto her elbows and lets her sunglasses slide down her nose. We’re on the roof of a low outbuilding at the Steel Bones clubhouse. The pitch of the roof isn’t too steep, and even though it’s only April, the heat from the shingles makes it warm enough to wear a bikini top comfortably.
Nickel’s over by the grill, drinking a beer, talking to Dizzy. Nickel’s hot as shit in a white tank top and faded jeans that ride low on his hips. I’ve been ogling him behind my sunglasses all afternoon.
“He won’t talk to me,” I pout, pulling at the threads on my cut-offs.
“Have you even tried?”
“Literally every time I see him.” And that’s the truth.
I’m a junior in high school now, and I’ve spent almost two years striking out with Nickel Kobald. He doesn’t even reply when I talk to him anymore; he just raises an eyebrow all sarcastic, tightens his jaw, and taps a foot until I wander off, mumbling and sweaty from humiliating myself. I wish the feeling would last so I’d learn my lesson, but that’s not how I’m made. Ma says I’m a human bop bag. Get knocked over, pop right back up for more. I don’t disagree. I ain’t about to lie there.
“So what’s your angle?” Fay-Lee asks, slipping down her swimsuit straps so she doesn’t get tan lines. I don’t worry about tanning. I’m wearing SPF 30 ‘cause I don’t want color; I just like the feeling of the sunshine sinking into my skin and the cool, early spring breeze that whips past every so often.
“What d’you mean?” I ask.
“How are you reeling in Mister Tall, Dark, and Homicidal?”
“Well…” My cheeks heat, thinking about all my striking out. I’ve got zero game. “At Thunder in the Valley, I asked him if he wanted me to get him a bottled water.”
“Smooth.” Fay-Lee nods with fake admiration.
“At the bull roast, I asked him if he was into classic rock.”
“Classic.” Fay-Lee’s laughing at me behind her shades. I deserve it.
“I’ve asked him to give me a ride somewhere, like, five times.”
“Didn’t work?”
“Nope.”
“You need to get him drunk.” Fay-Lee raises her beer to me, takes a long pull, and then tucks it back between her thighs.
“How would I even do that?” I huff. “I have to snarf beers off you.”
“It’s totally lame that Sunny cuts you off after three.”
“I know.” I’m lucky Ma’s off trying to score with some dude named Wall. Usually, she sticks pretty close to me at the clubhouse. “When she was my age, she was following Phish.”
“Old-schoolers suck.” Fay-Lee shoots me a wicked grin. “Maybe not that one there, though.” She makes a show of staring toward Nickel and licking her lips. “I bet he sucks so, so good.”
I shriek and slap Fay-Lee’s bare shoulder. We both break into giggles.
I love this girl. She’s my first real, actual, female friend. She showed up a few months ago on the back of a nomad’s bike, and even though the nomad left, she’s still around. She’s Dizzy’s house mouse. I think she’s supposed to be watching his two boys, but they’re over on the pile of tires, trying to throw each other off, and she’s hanging with me.
“Hey, get your dirty eyes off my boyfriend.” I jerk my chin toward the boys. “Aren’t you supposed to be watching those two?”
“You wish he was your boyfriend.”
I do. I so, so do.
“As for the two last names.” Fay-Lee’s neck starts going, and her pointer finger goes up. “I told Dizzy. I said, I’m twenty-one years old, not nearly old enough to be their mama and not nearly big enough to whoop their asses. Which they both need, fuckin’ desperately. So I’ll cook, clean, and drive ’em where they need to go, but I ain’t beating my head against a wall. He wants ’em to act right, he can step up.”
“The two last names?”
“Parker. That’s the older one. And Carson. That’s the younger one. They’ve got fuckin’ last names for first names.”
“Okay, Fay-Lee.”
Fay-Lee rolls her eyes. “Don’t get me started on you. You ain’t even got a name for a first name.”
“Least of my problems. My boyfriend over there won’t even give me his number.”
“You’re hopeless.” Fay-Lee passes me her beer. I’m on number four of the day, but I ate a ton of hot dogs and spread the Buds way out, so I’m only a little buzzed.
I groan. She’s right. “Everything is hopeless.”
“Yeah?” Fay-Lee’s listening, but her eyes are wandering now, too. First to Dizzy, then the boys.
I sigh. Nothing’s been going my way lately. Not like it ever does. “I’m not gonna get the English credit. I’m gonna have to do summer school. Again.”
“That sucks.”
“My boss at General Goods is trying to make me work Thursday nights when I have dance. He says if I can’t, he’s gonna cut my hours.”
“That really sucks.”
“I should just call it a day, drop out, and go work with Ma at The White Van.”
I’ve been thinking about it more and more often. It’s not like I’ll be able to get anywhere with a diploma. I still won’t be able to read worth shit.
Fay-Lee rolls to her side and props her head in her hand, totally ignoring the boys shouting and wrestling across the yard.
“Or—” She flicks me between the eyes, and I yelp. “You could stop bitchin’ about shit you cannot change and go get yourself a piece of hot and crazy.”
My eyes wander back to Nickel, and a shiver shoots straight between my legs. He’s so gorgeous, I can hardly breathe when I look at him. His cheekbones slash toward his soft lips, and even in the middle of a sunny Saturday afternoon, his black eyes glint and dart. He reminds me of a panther or something, searching for prey.
He’s shifting on his feet, and he keeps crossing and uncrossing his arms. He never stands still for long. If I’m gonna make a move today, it’ll have to be soon. He doesn’t usually stay around long at family events.
“What do you suggest?” Short of flashing my tits, I’m all out of ideas.
Fay-Lee grins and waggles her eyebrows. “Get him alone and show him your boobs.”
My mouth drops open. And then I slam it back shut. It’s actually a great idea.
Nickel always shuts me down before I can even get started, but his eyes always stray down my front while he’s doin’ it. I’m not gonna lie. I’m a 30D. My boobs kind of have a gravitational pull on most dudes’ eyeballs. Right now, a table full of prospects by the horseshoes are ogling Fay-Lee and me, tryin’ to play it cool.
“How do I get him alone?”
Fay-Lee shrugs and rolls flat again. “I don’t know. Follow him to the men’s room.”
I could do that. I slide my feet back into my flip-flops so I’m ready to go as soon as he makes a move toward the clubhouse.
A shout pulls my attention momentarily toward the tire pile.
“Oh, crap.”
I nudge Fay-Lee with my elbow. “Parker just threw Carson off the top of the tire pile.”
Fay-Lee tilts her chin up to get more sun on her chest. “He still moving?”
I watch a second. The kid is slow to get to his feet, but a second later, he’s halfway up the pile, cussin’ a blue streak at his brother.
“He’s good.”
“Well, you better shake your ass if you don’t want to miss your chance.” Fay-Lee jerks her chin toward the back door, and there’s Nickel, walking through.
“Shit!”
I scramble off the roof, using a stack of pallets to get down, and I speed walk across the yard. Creech stares at me from a picnic table, licking his lips, and I go even faster. Creech creeps me out. He has a head tattoo, and he’s always grabbing my ass.
When I get into the clubhouse, I pad down the dark hall to the bathrooms, grateful there’s no one inside. It’s a beautiful spring day, and everyone’s out enjoying the sunshine.
My heartbeat doubles and then triples the closer I get to the john. Now that I’m on my way, I have to admit, this plan is not the greatest. Nickel lives upstairs, so he could have gone to his room. Also, there’s the definite possibility that he won’t be alone.
The idea causes me to fall back on my heels a few inches from the men’s room door. This is stupid. I should go outside, climb back up on the roof, and tan my back. I hear a flush, muffled by the door.
Shit. If he comes out now, I’m going to be standing in the hallway, staring at the men’s room door like a freakin’ idiot. Shit.
I hear voices at the end of the hall. I make a split-second decision and push in. Go big or go home, right?
“What the fuck?” Nickel’s washing his hands. The bathroom’s otherwise empty.
My stomach wobbles like it always does when I’m near him, and my breath goes shallow. Good thing. It smells like piss and Pine-Sol in here. So not sexy. This is the worst idea ever.
“Story?”
Nickel shakes the water off his hands, his face darkening. Goosebumps rise all up and down my arms. He is not happy to see me.
“What are you doin’ in here? You fuckin’ meeting somebody in here?” His voice is sharp. Angry.
I shake my head. The buzz that fueled this dumb idea is well and truly gone. My brain is still slow from the beers, though, and I can’t figure out how to get myself out of this.
While I stand there, speechless, Nickel’s jaw gets tighter and tighter until a tic starts pulsing beneath his ear. He hasn’t come closer to me; he’s still standing by the sink, staring. My skin flushes hot; sweat breaking out behind my knees.
He’s staring at my turquoise fringed bikini top. No, he’s staring at my tits. All of a sudden, I’m super-aware of them. My nipples stiffen, straining at the nylon, and they kind of itch. I wriggle, arch my back, try to scratch that achy little itch, and the quietest exhale escapes Nickel’s lips. His black eyes swirl. He’s not in motion now; he’s not scanning the distance for threats.
He’s anchored to me, and he’s into this. Oh, God. Now I’m even more into this. I slowly reach behind my neck and untie the top. He’s tracking me, his hooded eyes burning as they slide up to watch my fingers work and then down to where the cups sag as I lower them inch by inch.
I drop the ties and square my shoulders. He swallows so loud I can hear it.
And for about three glorious seconds, he’s eating me up with his eyes, and it’s like my tits strain toward him. My belly flips like crazy and heat gushes between my legs. His entire body is taut as a spring pulled as far as it can go, and I know that he’s going to break. He’s going to come for me, and I’m trembling because I’m a scared that he will and even more scared that he won’t.
“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he mumbles, like he’s talking in his sleep. And then his eyes are boring into mine; he’s not even looking at my tits. “You’re so perfect.”
“I think you’re perfect, too.” It’s true. To me, he is.
He laughs. An ugly sound. “You got no sense, do you, girl?”
“Don’t need sense. I need you.” That’s true, too. I can’t believe I have the guts to say it, but this moment is out of time. We’re stuck in the eye of a tornado, swept in circles around each other, powerless.
“I’m a decade older than you.”
“You’re still hot.” I grin, let him see me check out his six-pack abs. He broadens his shoulders, and his biceps flex. My grin widens.
“You’re settin’ yourself up for a disappointment, little girl.”
“Maybe. You should let me find out for myself.”
He stands there, lost for words, the beginning of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth, and then—without warning—a cold, metal knob knocks me right in the small of my back. I cry out, and Nickel leaps at me, slamming the bathroom door shut over my shoulder, scrabbling at my top, trying to put it back up.
“Stay the fuck out!” he roars, fumbling with the fabric, and all he’s managing to do is press the twisted cups against my breasts, his calloused fingers stroking my flushed skin, setting off chills that race through me straight to my throbbing pussy.
He’s breathing heavy, and his black eyes are drilling into mine, furious again and hungry, the half-smile well and truly gone. I can see the fight in them, and I’m hooked. I’ve never seen anyone fight themselves this hard. And it’s over me.
“It’s okay,” I murmur. “You can touch them.”
He beats his fist once against the door behind me. I’m not sure if he’s warning off whoever just tried to come in, or if he’s just pissed as hell.
“Fuck!” he barks. “Tie it back up!”
I lower my hands, which had been hovering at my sides, and I rest my palms on the door behind me. “It’s okay. I want you to.”
He rips his gaze away from mine and bores a hole into the wall with his eyes. “Tie it back up. Now.”
“I’m seventeen.”
“Not having this conversation, Story.”
“You want to.” I reach out to graze the hard length tenting his jeans. I’ve never touched a dick before, but I’ve seen plenty. I know he’s got a hard on. For me. The feeling’s so heady, twice the buzz I had going before. I stroke him through the denim. Once.
He hisses, a sound of pain, and grabs my wrist. Too tight. I suck in a breath. He holds on.
“You are going to tie that top back up, walk your ass back outside, go back to layin’ on that fuckin’ roof, and if I ever catch you doing something this stupid again, I’m going to—”
His face is a storm, dark and dangerous, and I wait, trapped right where I want to be, heat pooling between my thighs.
“What? What’ll you do?” My mouth waters.
“Fuck!” He loses it. His body springs into motion, and before I can blink, I’m out in the hallway, the force he used to push me there sending me several steps forward before I’m in full control of my body again. In the bathroom, there’s a crash, and then something shatters.
“What the fuck is that?” Boots, one of the older brothers, is wheeling himself toward me as I quickly do up my ties.
“Dude!” he shouts as he passes. “You wrestlin’ out a shit in there or a fuckin’ alligator?” Then he slaps my ass, cackles, and wheels himself into the ladies’ room.
Later, after I hide in the kitchen for a while and help the old ladies clean, I snarf an almost full beer Grinder left on a picnic table and find Fay-Lee. She’s still laid out on the roof. I pull myself up to sit on the edge, legs dangling. Nickel’s nowhere to be seen.
“From that face, I’m guessin’ you struck out.”
I groan.
“How bad was it?”
“So bad.”
“He barfed.” Fay-Lee says it like of course he barfed.
“No. Asshole.” I reach back to slap her baby-oiled thigh. She laughs.
“You puss out?”
“No. I showed him my tits.”
“What, was he like ‘meh’? He totally said meh, d
idn’t he?”
A smile twitches at the corner of my mouth. I love Fay-Lee.
“No. He got really pissed off, kicked me out, and went ballistic.”
Fay-Lee’s quiet a minute, her head cocked to the side. “Cool.”
“Not cool, girl. Not at all.” I swing my feet, letting my flip flops dangle. “Embarrassing. Humiliating. The absolute worst.”
Fay-Lee grunts as she does a sit-up until she’s vertical. Then she scooches down so she’s right next to me. She slings a skinny arm around me and rests her cheek on my shoulder.
“I don’t know, Story. What is he? Like twenty-five?”
“Twenty-six.”
She smirks. “I don’t know any other twenty-six-year-old dudes who’d take a pass on seventeen-year-old pussy served up on a plate. Do you?”
She’s right. I don’t.
A smile trembles on my lips. “You sayin’ he’s, like, a good guy?”
Fay-Lee snorts. “Nope. I’m sayin’ there’s something wrong with him. But still. It’s kind of cool.”
And that’s what I take away.
Not that there’s something wrong with Nickel Kobald, but that my best friend Fay-Lee Smith, the coolest girl I’ve ever met, thinks the man I love is cool, too. From that day on, my course is set. I want what I want, and I’m not giving up. Of course, life is going to shoot me down in the end, but until then, I’m gonna elbow my way closer to the things that feel like sunshine on my face.
Like Nickel Kobald saying you’re so beautiful.
You’re so perfect.
CHAPTER 4
NICKEL, PRESENT DAY
“Is she seriously dancing to ‘Goodbye Yellow Brick Road’?”
Forty shakes his head and snaps for Starla to bring another round of beers. The White Van isn’t very busy tonight. A new club opened up in Shady Gap, so business will be down for a while until the novelty wears off and dudes get tired of driving forty minutes to look at the same old tits and ass.
Nickel's Story: A Steel Bones Motorcycle Club Romance Page 3
