Spark of Time: MacKenny Brothers Series Book 5: an MC/Band of Brothers Romance

by Kathleen Kelly

  “He’s family,” I offer as an explanation.

  Isabelle looks at Charlotte, who’s trying to hit the white ball with a pool cue. “Yeah, family is hard.”

  “Swap you?” This makes her laugh. “Can I offer you a drink and a seat?”

  “Yeah.” She nods toward Charlotte. “She’s not finishing any time soon.”

  Isabelle has on a pair of jeans, sneakers, and a black top that has no shape to it. I’ve noticed she tries hard to blend in, to not be seen.

  “What can I get you to drink?”

  “Just a soda.”

  “One soda coming right up.”

  The clubhouse bar has a line-up, so I bypass it and go back into the kitchen and open the refrigerator. Lola is out there helping Cherie and Beth.

  “You going to pay for that?”

  “No,” I reply, winking at her.

  “Did Isabelle find you?” asks Beth.

  This stops me in my tracks. “Was she looking for me?”

  Beth grins and sweeps her long, wavy hair behind her. “Did you want her to be looking for you?”

  Cherie giggles and Lola grins. I don’t take the bait and keep walking. Those women might be family, but they gossip worse than old ladies at a sewing circle.

  Isabelle is sitting at my table in the corner. I hold out a soda to her and sit down. “Sorry, no glass.”

  “I don’t mind. How’d you jump the queue?”

  I wink at her. “I have my ways.”

  She barks out a laugh. “So why aren’t you in the MC like your brothers?”

  Staring at the MC members around me, I shake my head. “It isn’t the life for me.”

  “You’re a farmer?”

  “I am now.”

  Isabelle cocks her head to the side. “You weren’t always?”

  “No. I wanted to follow in my grandfather’s footsteps like Sean.”

  She takes a sip of her soda. “Sean, who’s in the MC?”

  Nodding, I chuckle. “Yeah, well, I was going to be in for life. But my time got cut short.”

  “What happened?”

  “A training exercise that went wrong. Took out my hearing in one ear.” I shrug. “Life threw me a curveball, and I had to pivot.”

  “But farming?”

  “I got a small payout, and with that money, I bought the farm.” I chuckle at my words. Twisting in my seat, I look into her eyes. “I joined up to honor my grandfather, and I’d have stayed in for life. I got hurt, and I had to reevaluate what was important to me. Before I enlisted, I’d done a stint working on a farm. He was all about organic, no pesticides, and be kind to the earth.”

  Isabelle bursts out laughing.

  “Hey, he had some valid points, and where I can, I follow a lot of his practices, and sometimes I have to use pesticides, but I only use natural ones. I also am very big on letting the earth replenish itself by letting a field fallow for a year. I’ll never make a fortune as a farmer doing it this way, but it’s the most sustainable way.”

  “Money’s not important to you?”

  I take a sip of my drink and look down at the tabletop, chuckling. “I like money, but I think what I’m doing is more important. I sell my produce at the farmers’ market on the outskirts of town on the last Sunday of every month.”

  “Do you get many people?”

  “Yeah, you should come. You could sell your baked goods.”

  She puffs out her cheeks and leans back in the chair. “I’m working six days a week now. That would make it seven days a week.”

  “Yeah, but only once a month, and it’s a good way to meet the locals.” Holding up a hand, I do a sweep of the room. “You could cater more events like this, but maybe a little higher class?”

  “You don’t think much of them, do you?”

  There’s an edge to her voice, and she narrows her gaze on me.

  “It’s complicated. I love my brothers. I don’t like what they attract or what they do to earn an income.”

  “They’ve been nothing but nice to us,” replies Isabelle in a soft voice.

  Sensing I’m not about to change her mind, I ask, “What about you? Have you always wanted to be a baker?”

  Isabelle stands. “Thanks for the drink. It looks like Charlotte is done. See you around.”

  Standing, I reach for her hand. “I was—” As I touch her, she jumps, lets out a squeal, and stumbles backward, falling over. “Jesus, Isabelle!” I hold out a hand to her.

  She looks around the room, slightly embarrassed if the blush that’s reddened her face is anything to go by. Isabelle slaps my hand away and gets to her feet on her own steam.

  “Charlotte! We’re going.”

  Charlotte runs to her sister. Isabelle grabs her hand, and they walk out of the clubhouse.

  “Smooth with the ladies, I see.” Cutter smirks.

  “What the fuck just happened?” asks Sean.

  With a shake of my head, I say, “I have no fucking idea.”

  “I do,” states Lola.

  We all look at her.

  With her drink, she points toward the doors Isabelle left through. “She’s been hurt by a man and badly. It’s the only reason a woman reacts that way.”

  Kyle throws an arm around her. “And you know that how?”

  Lola shakes her head. “Another life.” She kisses him. “I’ve got you now.”

  Kyle grins. “And on that note.” He steps away from her and puts two fingers in his mouth, letting out a shrill whistle. “Listen up!”

  The clubhouse goes quiet. Kyle walks to an empty chair, drags it across the floorboards, and places it in front of Lola. He holds out a hand to her, and she looks at him. Kyle raises his chin, and she climbs up on the chair. Lola is wearing a low-cut black tank top and a denim mini-skirt that barely covers her ass. She’s paired it with black high-heeled boots and several long silver necklaces. Lola has the biker chick look down to an art form.

  “You all know Lola,” he bellows.

  A few of the MC cheer, and he waits for them to go quiet before he continues.

  “She’s been a part of my life and the MC’s for a few years now. And I thought…” he pauses and takes both her hands in his. “Lola, I think it’s time we made this official. Will you become my ol’ lady?”

  Lola has never been one to be lost for words. Her long red hair falls over her face so only Kyle can see it. She nods profusely and is whispering something to him. He’s looking at her so intently, hanging onto every word. When she finishes speaking, Kyle picks her up and twirls her around. Slowly, he lowers her to the ground, throws an arm around her shoulders, and looks at the expectant crowd.

  “She said yes!”

  The club whores all rush forward, as do Beth and Cherie. It’s only then that I realize my brother Maddock isn’t here.

  “Where’s Mad?” I ask Sean.

  “He’s here somewhere.”

  Sean cheers, “Yahoo!” Then pushes his way through the crowd to punch Kyle in the arm.

  The music gets turned back on, and the drinking and partying goes into full swing. For a moment, Kyle locks eyes with me, and I grin and nod at him. In true Kyle fashion, he gives me a chin lift and a two-finger wave. I return the wave and head for home. I’m happy for my brother, but I’ve no desire to party with his brethren.

  Instead of going straight home, I do a drive-by past the bakery, and in true stalker fashion, I drive down the lane behind the row of shops. Isabelle is out there putting rubbish in one of the big industrial trash bins. She has her hand up, shielding her eyes from the glare of my headlights. Rolling my truck to a stop, I turn off the lights and wind down my window.

  “Jamie?”

  “Yeah, I wanted to make sure you got home okay.”

  She crosses her arms over her chest and cocks her head to the side. “Really?”

  “And maybe I wanted to know what I’d done to upset you and why you left so quickly?”

  Isabelle frowns, her lips turn down, and she looks me in the eyes.
“Are you a good guy, Jamie?”

  “I think so?”

  “That’s not a yes.”

  Undoing my seat belt, I turn off the truck and climb out. She backs away from me, and I lean against the truck with my legs crossed at the ankles.

  “I’ll word it another way.” I push up my hat at the front. “I’ve never hit a woman, I don’t lie, and I work hard.” She smiles at me. “And family first, always.”

  The smile turns into a grin. “You know that is something Charlotte and I always say to each other.”

  “It’s a family mantra. We’ve all gone in our own direction, but we’re always there for each other.” I cross my arms over my chest and tilt my head from side to side. “It’s not always easy, especially with the MC.”

  “You don’t like the MC very much, do you?”

  I let my arms drop to my sides. “Yes and no.”

  Isabelle takes a step toward me. “Do you want to come inside? I could make you a coffee?”

  “You sure?”

  She narrows her gaze, nods, and lets her arms drop. “Yeah, I think you’re safe.”

  Grinning at her, I follow her into the back of the bakery. She turns on the lights as she walks through the building.

  “You know I’d be happy with a filtered coffee.”

  “Pfft! I’m not as good at making it as Charlotte, but it’s drinkable.”

  “Maybe we should have filtered coffee?”

  Isabelle ignores me and continues. I lean up against a wall and watch her. Within ten minutes, she has two coffees made and is plating up some cookies.

  “Chocolate chip.” Isabelle moves through to the front of the store, where she has a few tables set up.

  “These are new.”

  Sitting down, she picks up a cookie, bites it, and then takes a sip of coffee. “Yeah. On warm days we put them outside on the sidewalk.”

  “Good idea.”

  “Tell that to the diner down on the corner.”

  “They don’t like the competition?”

  She shakes her head. “They’ve complained about us to the mayor. He tells me I’m not doing anything wrong, but I don’t want to be a problem.”

  “I could talk to Danny if you like?”

  Isabelle laughs. “Do you know everyone in town?”

  “It’s a small town.”

  “It’s not that small.” She takes a sip of her coffee.

  I bite into a cookie and shrug. “Danny runs a stall at the farmers’ market, where he sells sandwiches.”

  “The farmers’ market that happens once a month?”

  “The very same one. The one where you could get to know the locals.” I chuckle.

  Isabelle picks up her cup and smiles. “You have a nice laugh.”

  Feeling a little self-conscious, I stop and sip my coffee. We’re silent for a moment as we both stare out at the empty street in front of the bakery.

  “Can I ask you a personal question?”

  She cocks her head to the side. “Depends. So long as I have the right to refuse to answer.”

  “Where’s the fun in that?” Isabelle shrugs. “Fine.” I hold up my hands in surrender.

  “Go on, ask.”

  “Did someone hurt you?”

  Isabelle puts her cup down a little too quickly, and it clatters noisily on the table. She rights it and takes in a deep breath. “Charlotte and I are here to start fresh. The past doesn’t matter.” Her eyes shift from mine to back onto the empty street. “And I think you’re right, we should definitely do the farmers’ market.”

  Her change of subject is both confusing and a pleasant surprise. “Good.”

  She leans forward. “What do you think I should bring?”

  “Some of your bread and cupcakes… everyone loves those. Cutter treats them like they’re manna from heaven.”

  Isabelle laughs. “He comes in most days for a coffee and at least two cupcakes. He’s sweet to Charlotte.”

  Knowing how broken Cutter is, I frown. “He is, but it’s kind of weird.”

  “Weird how?”

  “He has a…” I pause, searching for the right word. “Dangerous streak.”

  “Oh, yeah, he does. But he’s nice to her. One day, a group of kids came in to make fun of her, and he scared them half to death. I have no doubt he was perfectly capable of fulfilling his threat.” She shakes her head and shrugs. “He wouldn’t hurt Charlotte and, by proxy, me.”

  “What do you mean by that?”

  She laughs. “It’s hard to explain, but he looks out for her, which means because I’m her sister, he’ll look out for me.”

  Scoffing, I lean back. “Why do you think he likes Charlotte so much?”

  “She’s innocent. Charlotte sees the world through rose-colored glasses. For a time, those glasses, because of me, were tainted, but since we’ve moved here, she’s back to her old self. Except it’s a better version. I’ve never seen her so happy.”

  “Did you and Charlotte live together in…” I leave the question hanging in the air.

  “No. Well, we did for a short time, but I had to leave her behind.” Isabelle’s lips turn down. “She wasn’t happy when we lived together, and there were other forces at work.”

  Part of me wants to know all of her dark secrets, but I know if I push, she’ll shut down and run. Sitting here with her tonight has been nice.

  Maybe I can be her friend?

  I’d like to be more, but Isabelle isn’t ready for that.

  Nodding to myself, I stand and smile down at her. “It’s late. I should go. Thank you for the coffee and cookies. They were good.”

  “But the coffee wasn’t?”

  “I’ll never tell.”

  Isabelle bursts out laughing. I like the sound. She’s relaxed, and for the first time, I don’t think she’s afraid of me.

  “See you in a couple of weeks.”

  I turn to go, and she says, “You won’t be in for coffee?”

  “Can’t, I have to work out on the farm.”

  She nods and looks at the floor. “Okay, see you then.”

  I tip my hat and smile. “I look forward to it.”

  Jamie

  The farmers’ market is a big affair. Not only do the locals come, but it’s a day out for many in the surrounding towns. With a bit of wrangling, I got the organizers to put Isabelle’s stall next to mine. It’s the early hours of the morning. Isabelle is all set up, and it’s not six o’clock yet. The market is only open until one in the afternoon.

  “Have you got change for the cash buyers?”

  Isabelle grins. “Yep.”

  I’m standing in front of her stall, admiring it. She has many different types of bread on one side and a dozen different kinds of cupcakes on the other.

  “That’s a lot of cake.”

  “I went and talked to Danny. I told him I was going to do these markets but wouldn’t if he objected. He’s a nice guy. Told me my cupcakes would sell like hotcakes.” She smiles to herself. “And then he ordered bread for the diner. You were right, he sure is nice.”

  Smirking, I nod. “Good to see I’m right about some things.”

  Isabelle laughs. “Only some things.”

  She looks good. Isabelle is normally in her baker’s uniform or some shapeless outfit. Today she has on a pair of jeans and a black tank top. Her hair is curled and hangs loosely around her face.

  “Where’s Charlotte?”

  “Sleepyhead didn’t want to come.”

  “Is she okay by herself?”

  Isabelle nods. “Charlotte used to live by herself. She even had two jobs. I was so proud of her.”

  “Where was that?”

  Isabelle looks down the field we’re in, and the first of many cars pulls up. “You ready for the hordes?”

  “Yep. Remember to have fun.”

  Walking in behind my stall, I turn on the radio to my favorite country station.

  “What the hell is that?” asks Isabelle.

  “It’s country. It’s a
lways honest, never sarcastic.”

  “It’s always my dog died, my girl died, and I’m sad.”

  Chuckling at her, I say, “You’re going to love Rascal Flatts.”

  “Rascal what?”

  “Gary LeVox has a great range.”

  “Give me The Grinders and Kat Saunders any day.”

  “Should have known you’d be a rock girl.”

  “And why’s that?”

  “There’s just a wild streak to you, that’s all.”

  Isabelle shakes her head and laughs. “I’m not wild.”

  “Yeah, you are. You’ve got something.”

  My first customer, a regular, comes up to my stall and picks up a jar of honey, and for the time being, all conversation stops.

  Isabelle

  Jamie is always so careful with me. He lets me slide on all the tough questions I don’t want to answer. He’s good with Charlotte, and the man has a fine ass. Today he’s got on a pair of jeans and a white t-shirt. The trademark hat is nowhere to be seen, and his hair is combed back from his face with those baby blues shining out. Only he and his younger brother, Lochlan, have blue eyes—the others all have green ones. Although it depends on the light, sometimes his eyes look almost dark.

  “Hey, Isabelle, do you have my favorite?” asks Cutter as he stands in front of the stall, staring at the different cakes.

  “Cutter! What are you doing here?”

  He shrugs. “Heard you’d be here, so I thought I’d show my support.” Cutter grins at me. His gaze flicks over to Jamie, and he frowns. “I guess they let anyone in here.”

  “Jamie has been a great help. It was his idea for me to come.”

  His hair falls across his eyes, and he raises his chin. “Where’s Charlotte?”

  “Day off.”

  He rocks back on his heels and pulls out a twenty-dollar bill from the front of his jeans pocket. “I’ll have one of the chocolate-frosted cupcakes.”

  “Only one? And not your favorite?”

  “I’m pacing myself,” he jokes.

  Cutter hands over his money, I give him his change and cupcake. He takes it out of the box I put it in and holds it up to me, then walks away. On the edge of the field is a group of Harleys, which means there must be more of the Loyal Rebels in the crowd.