by Chiah Wilder
“Sure, you just let us know when you’re ready,” Cara said, a satisfied smile spreading across her face.
An hour later, they were seated at a small table at Blue’s Belly, sipping their drinks and listening to a local band play classic rock covers. Cara had arranged it so Banger and Belle were seated together. If Belle wasn’t so pretty and sexy, Banger would’ve been pissed at Cara’s blatant matchmaking. He didn’t have anything better to do, though, and sitting with the curvy cook beat spending the night alone at his house.
“Mmm…. This is so good,” Belle said as she took a big gulp of her frozen strawberry margarita. “It’s my favorite drink. What’s yours?” she asked, looking at Banger.
He brought his bottle of beer up and clinked it against her drink. “Coors all the way.” The way she giggled warmed him.
“I love the sugar around the rim of the glass.” She stuck out her tongue and ran it over the edge, licking at the granules, then her lips.
Watching her tongue on the glass made Banger’s dick twitch; he bet it could do all sorts of dirty shit to him.
“Why you looking at me like that? What are you thinking?” She playfully brushed her fingers over his hand.
“You don’t wanna know what I’m thinking.” His blue eyes twinkled.
“Why?”
“‘Cause you’d slap my face, and I’m betting you got a damn good swing.”
A blank look was soon replaced with a flush that crept across her cheeks. “Oh.” She giggled nervously then broke away from his stare, stirring her drink repeatedly with the small straw.
“Didn’t mean to make you nervous, but you must know you’re a beautiful woman.”
“I’m not nervous, just out of practice. It’s been a while since I’ve been like this with a guy.”
“Are you fucking with me? A sexy woman like you must have a bunch of guys after her.”
“Not really. Anyway, I’m too busy.” She took another gulp of her drink, red still the dominant color on her face.
Banger laughed and grabbed her hand. “Let’s go dance. This is one of my favorite songs.”
He led her to the dance floor, and they shook their bodies to Sammy Hagar’s “I Can’t Drive 55.” As Belle moved her hips to the beat of the music, Banger felt his jeans grow tighter. The way she swayed told him she’d be all kinds of hot in bed, and for the first time in a long time, he wanted a specific woman. The fucking he did with the club whores and hoodrats didn’t count—it was for physical release, nothing more—but his whole body was burning for this voluptuous woman who ignited something in him he’d thought was long gone.
When the music slowed a bit, Banger pulled Belle into his arms, pressing her close to him, loving the way her soft tits felt against his chest. They moved back and forth to the slow strains of Nazareth’s “Love Hurts,” her subtle floral scent driving him crazy. He wrapped his arms around her, his bulge rubbing against her, the sensation sending sparks down his spine. Belle leaned her head on his chest and put her arms around him. When his hands lowered to rest on her fleshy ass, she stiffened then shook her head. Leaning down, he whispered in her ear, “You’re a sexy woman. I love the feel of your body.”
“You can feel it with your arms around my waist. Take them off my butt.”
Just like that, she ordered him to stop what he was doing. At first, it startled him because women never told him what to do. Hell, he and Grace had sex the first night they’d met. Since her death, the club women clamored for him; he’d been off-limits during his marriage, but they came at him like sharks, silently hoping he’d take another old lady. They couldn’t do enough to please him and show him he needed their pussies. And the woman he actually craved ordered him to stop touching her tempting ass. What the fuck? He didn’t know what to make of it.
“Your hands are still there.”
It was a statement, but it worked; he abruptly moved them up and around her waist. Satisfied, she leaned her head on his chest once again. They danced the next few songs, then she said against his ear, “Let’s go back to the table, my feet are killing me.” Her lips just grazed his skin, and Banger ran his finger down her jawline while he nodded.
They ordered another drink just when Hawk turned to Banger. “Cara and I are cutting out. She’s got an early morning hearing. I’ll see you at the clubhouse tomorrow.”
Banger winked and tilted his chin then turned his attention to the lovely, cocoa-haired woman who made his pulse quicken. Her tangle of curls fell a little past her shoulder, and Banger’s fingers itched to wrap around the spiral strands, feeling their silkiness against his callused skin. And her full bottom lip was begging for him to suck on it while he held her close. Damn, she’s a hot one.
“How did I miss seeing a pretty lady like you? You from Pinewood Springs?” he asked as he leaned in close, his arm pressing against hers.
She shook her mass of curls. “Lakeview. It’s about an hour from here.”
“Yeah, I know it. You got some great backroads for biking. I go there often during the summer. How did you end up in Pinewood?”
“My husband died a year ago, and he left me and the kids in a bad way. He always told me he’d take care of me, but he didn’t.” She paused, her gaze moving from his to the dance floor.
“That’s tough.”
When she looked at him again, her twinkling eyes had turned hard, the bluish-steel of a midwinter sky. “Yeah, it is. Anyway, my best friend, Holly, had moved here to be with her boyfriend. He’s a deputy sheriff. When Harold died, and our house was foreclosed, Holly told me to get a fresh start. My kids and I moved in with her and Darren for a few months until I landed the job at Ruthie’s. With the overtime, and Ruthie’s generosity, I was able to afford a small bungalow on the east side of town. It’s a far cry from our five-bedroom home in Lake Vista Hills, but it’s good to be in a place that’s all our own.” She brought her drink to her lips, the hardness in her eyes softening a bit.
“How many kids you got?”
“Two. I have a daughter who is sixteen and a ten-year-old boy. They’re my anchors. What about you? Were you ever caught by a lady?”
He bobbed his head up and down. “I got a daughter, Kylie. She just turned nineteen and is away at college in Crested Peak. Her mama and I were hitched for fifteen years.”
“You divorced?”
“Nah. My old lady died.” After six years, saying the words aloud still pulled at his heart.
Belle placed a hand over his. “I’m sorry. It must be tough.”
Clenching his jaw, Banger stared straight ahead. “It is.”
Silence settled around them, each lost in their memories. Grace’s shining blue eyes and long, glossy blonde hair flashed in front of him. She had been a kind, beautiful woman who adored her daughter and husband. She was so clear in his mind that he felt that if he could just reach out a bit further, he could touch her, feel her warm skin and silky hair again.
“I’m glad I came out for a drink. I’m having a good time.” Belle’s lilting voice pushed Grace to the corners of his mind as she squeezed Banger’s hand.
He squeezed back. “I’m glad I came in the diner tonight.” He stroked her cheek with the back of his hand and marveled at how soft it was, like a piece of silk.
Banger relished being with a woman who made him laugh, who intrigued him, and who wasn’t a few years older than his daughter. He’d become bored with the senseless chatter of the women he bedded. He had nothing in common with them, and they didn’t hold his interest one iota beyond sucking him off. Being with Belle was like a breath of fresh air.
When midnight struck, Belle gathered her purse and coat. “I better go. My kids are alone, and I have to work tomorrow. It’s been a nice night. Thank you.”
As she rose to her feet, Banger jumped up and helped her with her coat, then lowered his head and said, “I’ll walk you to your car. Just give me a sec.” He texted Blade, one of the prospects, to pick him up.
As they moved through the parking l
ot, the icy air chilling their lungs, Banger put his arm around Belle and tugged her close to him. She didn’t pull away, and they walked together until she stopped in front of a gold Honda Accord. “Here I am,” she said softly.
She pulled off a glove and dug in her purse for the keys. Their breaths formed clouds around them in the bitter cold air. He took the keys from her and opened the door then swung her around so she faced him. Without hesitation, he bent down and kissed her gently on the mouth. She pushed back, a smile whispering on her lips. Banger leaned forward to capture her mouth again, but her hands on his chest held him back.
“Thank you again. I really have to go.”
Banger quirked his lips. “You didn’t like the kiss?”
Her eyes widened and patches of red streaked her cheeks. “You’re a direct person, aren’t you?”
“Fuck yeah. I don’t go in for hiding what I mean. I wanna kiss you again.”
She shifted from one foot to another. “There’s no point in it. I had a nice time, but I don’t have any time for anything more. I’m too busy working to make ends meet and taking care of my kids. A lot of times, I pull a double shift. I rarely go out for fun. Tonight was definitely an exception.”
Banger drew her closer to him, her hot tequila breath warming his face. “I’m not asking you to spend your life with me. Just asking for a kiss. No harm in that, is there?”
She gave a half-shrug then tilted her head up, her gaze locking with his. He moved his hand to the back of her neck and kissed her lightly on the lips. When she pressed into him, a low growl rose from his throat and he crushed his mouth against hers, his tongue breaking through the seam of her lips then dipping into her warm, giving mouth.
Banger trailed his fingertips down her back and found her soft ass. When he cupped her rounded cheeks under her coat, he felt them flex at the same time her small moan vibrated against his mouth. The sound of her arousal lit a fire in his dick, and he pushed her against the car, his hardness poking her. Then she stiffened, pushing him back, her blue eyes watering and her face red from cold and embarrassment. His gaze lingered on her lips, swollen from his kiss. Bringing his thumb up, he ran it across her cheeks.
She panted, “I have to go,” and abruptly turned and scooted into the driver’s seat of her car. “Thanks again.”
“I want to see you again. How about going for round two sometime this week?”
Her curls swayed from side to side. “Can’t. Really, I’m too busy right now for anything more than what I already have on my plate. I’ll see you if you come into the diner. I’ve already stayed out too long. Bye.”
Banger didn’t argue. “It was nice spending time with you.”
Belle closed her door then blew him a kiss before taking off into the inky dark. The Accord’s red taillights wavered in the misty night, and he stood watching her until he couldn’t see her car anymore.
The thought of Belle and her soft lips warmed him as he made his way over to Blade’s SUV parked in the far corner of the parking lot.
“Hey,” Blade said as Banger slid into the passenger seat.
Banger nodded curtly, closed the door, and settled back on the heated seat. Banger wanted to see her again, hold her, smell her jasmine scent, and kiss her incredible lips. For some reason, her touch uncovered a deep desire that he thought had long been buried. With the memory of Belle on his mind, her scent on his clothes, and her taste on his lips, warmth blanketed him as the chilled wind shrouded him. There was something about her that made Banger want to know her better. Belle had intrigued him, and there was no way in hell he was going to walk away.
Chapter Two
Belle poured herself a glass of chardonnay and sat at the kitchen table, sipping slowly as she tried to stop the fluttering in her stomach when she replayed her time with Banger. When she’d bumped into the tall man, her heart had leapt to her throat when his eyes had met hers. They were the most incredible shade of aquamarine, like the clear, tropical seas of the Pacific, and they’d pulled her in. Breaking away from them, she’d let her gaze run over his rugged, lightly tanned face. His long, honey butter-blond hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and his beard had flecks of white through it and was close to his face. His skin was slightly weathered, as if he’d spent time outdoors in the wind. The small wrinkles around his eyes crinkled when he smiled, and his deep, resonant voice melted over her like liquid chocolate. His six-foot-one frame was rugged and built, and his presence exuded strength and raw sex. Banger’s chiseled cheekbones and jawline made her want to reach out and stroke them. He was definitely all male. Her pulse had raced when his eyes bored into hers, as if trying to read her soul.
When she’d gone back into the kitchen, the sound of his deep, sexy voice had echoed in her ears, and he already had her fantasizing. Then she’d seen him at the table with Cara, her daughter’s attorney. She couldn’t believe how nervous she’d felt when his smoldering gaze ran over her body. Banger did things with his voice and eyes that made her heart shudder. And when he’d held her while they danced, her squishy body pressed against his hard, strong one, funny sensations had tugged between her legs. When he’d kissed her, her panties dampened and her breasts ached for his touch, but she’d had to stop it. She couldn’t begin to think about becoming involved with Banger because she knew she’d fall hopelessly in love with him, and a man that good-looking would surely cheat on her.
Since Harold had died, her life had been a series of upheavals. When her husband had passed away, it was the first time she’d been alone. She’d become pregnant her last year of high school with her daughter, Emily. Her boyfriend had denied any responsibility and dumped her before Emily was even born. She’d struggled to provide the basics for her daughter since her mom and dad didn’t help her out, too angry at her for “ruining” herself. Not being able to afford rent and food, she’d been forced to stay at home, enduring endless lectures on how she had sinned and how she was damned.
When she’d landed a job at a tourist resort on the lake, she’d been twenty-one years old, broke, and worn down by her parents. When Harold, twenty-five years her senior, took an interest in her, she’d jumped at the opportunity to give her daughter a better life and to break away from her parents. He was a widower who’d lost his wife the year before. He had a son and daughter who were older than she, but Belle didn’t care; she just wanted out of her shitty life. In six months, she and Harold were married, even though her parents threatened to disown her and his daughter, Jessica, accused her of being a “gold-digging slut.”
Five years later, she’d given birth to Ethan, and Harold had been thrilled. They’d had a nice life. Harold had a successful textile company, and Belle didn’t have to work. He was a good provider, and a good father. He’d adopted Emily, and their life together had run smoothly for years.
Belle loved Harold, but she was never in love with him. Love was overrated; she’d been in love with Emily’s father, and it had left her pregnant, broke, and alone. Harold was a sickly man, who’d suffered from diabetes and hadn’t taken good care of his health. He ate and drank too much, so, at the age of fifty-four, he’d been put on insulin injections to control his disease.
Belle had always made sure to be the best wife and mother she could be. She’d joined all the charity boards Harold had told her to, attended all her children’s school activities, hosted wonderful dinner parties for investors interested in Harold’s company, and made sure to be available sexually for her husband, even though she didn’t enjoy sex very much.
She’d given Harold a good home and taken care of him, and when she’d found out he’d been cheating on her with his clichéd twenty-three-year-old secretary, her world had crumbled. He’d broken her heart. How could he have done that? After all she’d given him. She’d even put up with his bitch of a daughter, who’d consistently hated her throughout the years.
Of course, he’d admitted the affair when she’d confronted him, and he’d sworn it was nothing more than sex and freaking out about becomi
ng old. He’d begged Belle to forgive him, to not leave him, so she said she’d stay. She didn’t have a better gig, and he’d been the financial rock of the family. Then he’d died, and Belle had thought the saying that “karma is a bitch” was really true. She’d donned the obligatory black for the funeral, but her heart had been freed from the anger and disappointment she’d felt at his betrayal. His death had set her free.
Then she’d found out he’d left her and the kids penniless. He’d been bleeding the company dry, embezzling funds for the past three years. There was nothing left—even the house had three liens on it. Jessica had accused Belle of spending all her dad’s money, and Belle hadn’t bothered to explain the situation. She didn’t want to sully Jessica’s memory of her father.
Homeless, penniless, and bankrupt, Belle had moved her family to Pinewood Springs. It had been the best decision she’d made. Except for her long hours at work, she’d tried to make a normal home for her son and daughter. Her daughter hadn’t dealt with her father’s death very well, and she’d been acting out by drinking and ignoring her curfew. In the last year, Belle had fought with her daughter more than she had with anyone else in her whole life. She was at her wits’ end with Emily. Belle really didn’t know what to do.
She drained her wine glass. Being with Banger reminded her how good it could feel to be with someone attractive and sexy, but she’d have to dispel those thoughts. Her life was too busy, and she had to put her daughter back on track. She didn’t have time for dating, and the last thing she had time for was to fall in love. No damn way was she going to let that happen.
She washed out her glass, turned off the lights, and climbed the stairs to her bedroom.
* * *
Around two o’clock the following day, a loud rumble rolled to the back of the diner, and Belle looked up from a pot of bubbling beef stew just as Banger walked in. Her face flushed and a surge of adrenaline coursed through her when she saw him scoot his long, denim-clad legs into a booth. His blond hair was secured in a ponytail, and a glint bounced off the earring in his left ear. He wore a black T-shirt and from where she stood, she saw the bulge of his bicep. Not thick and ripped like he worked out, just tight and defined as though he was used to manual labor. Blue, red, black, green, and yellow ink twisted on his tanned skin as he moved his arms. When they’d gone out the previous night, Banger had worn long sleeves, so she hadn’t noticed any tattoos. Watching him as he sat, the menu in his large hands, Belle held her breath in anticipation. She wanted to see his tats up close, trace them with her tongue as he explained what they meant.
