by Chiah Wilder
Stop it! Right. Now.
Something searing hot splashed on her hand. Belle looked down and noticed the beef stew was boiling rapidly. Cursing under her breath, she turned the flame to low, hoping she hadn’t burned the house special. And all because she couldn’t keep her eyes off Banger. How stupid and juvenile was that? After all, she was a thirty-eight-year-old mother of two, hardly a young twenty-something looking for a boyfriend. She shook her head—she was acting ridiculous.
As Belle took out the homemade rolls for the stew, Ruthie came into the kitchen, her hand on her hip, her deep-set brown eyes twinkling. “Go on and take your break. Jerome can cover. You got a customer who wants to talk to you.”
Belle’s mouth went dry and shivers trembled up her spine. “Who?” she asked, even though she knew it was Banger. She was stalling for time so her body would calm down.
“Banger. Now go on and get.” Ruthie blew on a spoon of beef stew before she took a taste. “Damn, this is good. They’ll be lining up for it tonight.”
Belle smiled weakly then rushed to the bathroom to make sure she didn’t have flour all over her. She swiped on another layer of apricot lipstick and a smear of clear gloss, took a deep breath, and willed herself to stop shaking. She walked out toward his table.
“Hey there,” she greeted him, her voice much more confident than she felt.
A huge smile cracked Banger’s face, and she liked how his eyes lit up when he scanned hers. “Hiya, beautiful.” He straightened against the seat and gestured for her to sit down.
She sat opposite him, their gazes locked together, neither saying anything. Belle cleared her throat. “So I must be doing something right if you’re coming back so soon for another meal.” Her laugh sounded forced and too high. Damn. Get a grip. He’s just a man. A gorgeous, sexy, intriguing man. Stop!
“You’re doing a lot of things right.” His gaze dropped down to her chest then back to her face, and he winked at her.
Uncomfortable, she pulled out a napkin from the dispenser and began wiping the table. “You’ll have to try the beef stew and homemade rolls. I’m not bragging, but they came out great.” She kept wiping the table.
His warm hand stopped her frenzied movement, and her gaze shot up to his. “Pretty sure the table is more than clean.”
She laughed, even though the butterflies in her stomach were twirling around. “I guess you’re right.” Belle leaned back stiffly against the seat, his hand still covering hers. It was nice to feel the strong warmth; it made her feel safe and comforted. What the hell is wrong with you? So he’s holding your hand. Big deal. “Were you in the neighborhood?” she asked.
“Nope. I came here to see you.”
“I usually work nights. How’d you know I’d be here?”
“Called Ruthie and asked. Her second husband and I are good friends. Have been since high school. That’s how I met Ruthie, and we’ve been friends ever since.” He squeezed her hand. “I wanted to see you again.”
She swallowed hard. “You did?”
Banger stared into her eyes. “Yeah.”
She slowly slid her hand from under his then pretended that someone had texted her. Even though her head was down, she was aware of his stare boring into her. She set her phone on the table then stretched out her arms, her hand knocking over his water glass. Damnit! He makes me so nervous.
Banger jumped up as water spilled on him. He grabbed a handful of napkins to sop up the liquid as it dripped off the table.
With her hand over her mouth, she said, “I’m so sorry. I really am. Here, let me get a rag.”
“No need.” Banger motioned the waitress over. “Could you take care of this mess for us?”
The waitress dried off the table and set a full glass of water in front of Banger before ambling away.
“You must think I’m terribly clumsy. First slamming into you last night in the hall, and now spilling water all over you. I’m usually careful. I don’t know what’s gotten into me.” Her voice trailed off, and she avoided his look because she knew exactly what the problem was—him. The man made her heart flutter, her mouth go dry, and her body ache in areas that scared the crap out of her.
“I think you’re pretty and cute.” He took a sip of water. “I’m going to try your beef stew and rolls. Then I gotta go back to the clubhouse to do some work.”
Noticing the president patch on his jacket for the first time, Belle asked, “You belong to a club?” She then spotted his one percent patch and wrinkled her nose. “You an outlaw biker?
“Yeah. The Insurgents.”
She pushed back from the table. Her only experience with a biker was Holly’s brother, but she wasn’t sure which club he belonged to. She knew he lived in New Mexico. When Belle had first moved to Pinewood Springs, she’d been so despondent that her friend, meaning well, had hooked her up with her brother. She’d gone on a couple of dates with him, but he’d been so pushy, he’d given her the creeps. Remembering him made her shudder. She couldn’t imagine how he and Holly could be brother and sister—they were so different.
Banger looked her over. “Is that a problem for you?”
She shook her head. “Not really. You’re a customer, that’s all.”
“Is it?” His hard gaze latched on to hers.
Diverting her eyes away, Belle nodded, releasing several strands of hair in her face. She tugged them back under her clips forcefully. The red bloom on her cheeks felt hot as she slid her fingers over them, all the while staring at the napkin dispenser.
He leaned over and said in a low voice, “Your look just told me I’m more than that.” With his finger, he traced her jawline softly, and she instinctively tipped her head to the side, a small sigh escaping through her lips.
“On second thought, I’ll take my meal to go. It’s getting late.” He motioned the waitress over and in less than ten minutes, a paper bag held a container of stew and three rolls wrapped in foil. He left the money on the table and got up.
Belle swiveled her legs from beneath the table, but before she could stand up, he grabbed hold of her wrists and pulled her up in one smooth movement, bringing her close to him. She breathed in his scent of clean freshness, letting it wrap around her like his powerful arms had done the previous night. He kissed her cheek and said against her ear, “Later, beautiful.” He winked at her then strolled out of the diner, leaving Belle staring after him.
The roar of his Harley brought her out of her reverie, and Belle went back in the kitchen to prepare for the evening rush. As she busied herself, she could still feel the touch of him on her skin, knowing the flutter of excitement that ran through her as she thought of him meant bad news. He did something to her; she was drawn to him, but she didn’t want to be. She had her hands full with her children. There was no way she could juggle all the crap going on and add Banger to the mix. It was too much. And he was a biker, the worst kind of man for a woman who’d been betrayed by the men in her life. Nope, she would have to keep it simple and at the diner. A few hellos and winks were about all she could handle.
The hard beat of the AC/DC song “Highway to Hell” filled the kitchen as Belle ran over to retrieve her phone. Her daughter always rolled her eyes at her mother’s ringtone, but whenever she heard it, it uplifted her. Lately, she’d needed all the uplifting perks she could find.
“Hello.” Belle walked back to the stove and stirred the gravy.
“Hi. Are you still at work?” Holly greeted her.
Belle marked the day she’d met Holly as one of her luckier ones. They’d met at the strawberry festival on a warm, late-summer day six years before. Belle had been manning the school booth, selling homemade fruit pies and jams, when Holly had come up. They’d struck up a conversation, and discovered they shared an interest in cooking and entertaining. Holly had been new to the area, and was feeling lonely without her friends or family. Belle had invited her to join her cooking club, and from then on they’d been close. Holly was like the sister she never had.
&nb
sp; “Yep, still at work. I’ve got a couple more hours to go. What’s up?”
“I’m calling you in plenty of time so you can let Emily know she has to stay with Ethan this Friday. You and I are going out for burgers. Darren has the graveyard shift, and I’m itching to go out to eat. He’s been so busy that all I do is sit at home. Boring! Anyway, no excuses. We’re hanging out on Friday night.”
Belle laughed, but her stomach constricted when she thought about asking Emily to stay with her brother. Sometimes she was fine with it, but most of the time she gave her a real attitude. Belle thought it was simpler to stay home than have a fight with her daughter. “I’ll see what Emily is up to. If she doesn’t have plans, then a nice dinner out sounds good.”
“You just tell her you need her to help out. Fuck, you never go out. You deserve to have some fun. Treat yourself.”
“I know. You’re right. If Emily can’t do it, I’ll see if Ethan can spend a few hours at Luke’s house. I’ll give Sarah a call.”
“That’s good. I’ll let you get back to work. I’ll pick you up on Friday at around seven, okay?”
“Sounds good. See you.”
Belle put her phone back in her backpack. Her friend was always looking out for her, trying to make sure she didn’t become too much of a homebody. If Holly didn’t drag her out once in a while, Belle would never go anywhere. She needed a day away from cooking and the kids.
As the five-o’clock crowd filed in, Belle dug in her heels, preparing for a long three hours until she could go home.
* * *
Pain surged up her calves as she entered the modest, three-bedroom bungalow she rented. She knew the children were used to a lot more space, but it was all Belle could afford on the money she made at Ruthie’s. She kicked off her shoes, welcoming the carpet’s softness on her aching feet.
The minute she walked into her pristine kitchen, she knew Emily had not begun dinner like Belle had asked her to. She opened the refrigerator and took out the chicken she’d breaded before she went to work earlier that day. She asked so little of her daughter, yet Emily still couldn’t manage to perform the simple task of making the salad and steaming the broccoli. After placing the vegetable in the steamer, she padded out to the family room. Ethan had come down while she was in the kitchen and his eyes were glued to the TV, his small hands gripping the game controller as he destroyed invaders who approached his village.
“Where’s your sister?”
Without glancing at his mom, he shrugged.
“Was she here when you got home from school?”
He shook his head. Belle left the room and climbed the stairs, knocking on her daughter’s bedroom door. No answer. She opened it, hoping to find her daughter sprawled out on her bed, her ear buds in, watching something silly on the computer. No such luck. Her daughter’s room was just as Emily left it in the morning before she went to school. With a heavy heart, Belle went to her room to change out of her uniform.
After Ethan had gone to bed, Belle, wine glass in hand, tried for the umpteenth time to call Emily, but it went to voicemail, just as it had the many times before. Anger and worry zigzagged through her body, and by the time it hit midnight, Belle had decided to call the police. But just as she was dialing, she heard the back door bang open. Hanging up the phone, Belle leapt up from the couch and rushed toward the kitchen to confront a very stoned Emily coming into the house.
“Where the hell have you been, and why haven’t you answered any of my calls?”
“What?” Emily stared at her with glassy eyes. “You called me?” She took out her phone and scrolled. “Damn. I guess I forgot to turn it back from vibrate after school. Sorry.” She brushed past her mom.
Belle gripped her arm. “No way is that good enough. Why didn’t you call to let me know where you were? I’ve been worried sick all night, and now you come home stoned off your ass?”
Emily pulled out of her mother’s grasp. “Too tired. We can talk about it tomorrow.” She started toward the stairs.
Belle grabbed her and turned Emily around. “We will talk about it now. You come home past your curfew, reeking of weed and booze, and you want to talk about it tomorrow? I don’t think so.”
“I’m tired. Leave it alone.” Emily narrowed her eyes.
Belle shook her head. “I’m tired too. I’ve been on my feet for ten hours, and then I had to sit here and worry half the night about where you were. We’re talking now.” She tugged her daughter toward the living room.
Emily shoved her mom, pushing her back against the wall. “Don’t ever fucking touch me again. I’m going to bed.” She stomped up the stairs as Belle watched her in disbelief.
Making her way to the couch, Belle sat on it, rubbing her shoulder from where it hit the wall. She couldn’t believe the daughter she’d loved and cherished had treated her with such disrespect. Covering her face with her hands, she stifled her sobs while she wondered what had happened. It seemed like Emily was growing more belligerent and for the first time, she’d been violent toward Belle. How could she stop this crazy ride her family was on? What the hell was she going to do?
Chapter Three
The sunlight reflecting off the snow blinded Banger as he walked through the clubhouse’s parking lot. When he entered, a few brothers sat around the bar, staring idly at a sports channel on the big-screen TV. He greeted them with a jerk of his chin and went to his office. Closing the door behind him, he sat down in his brown leather desk chair and closed his eyes. A bright blue gaze took center stage before the sexiest curves he hadn’t seen in a long time came into focus. He couldn’t get the gorgeous cook at Ruthie’s out of his mind. When he went by to see her the previous day, he’d been as excited as a high school boy before he spotted her mass of dark curls. He smiled at the thought. She was a mighty fine woman, and it’d been a helluva long time since he’d been enamored with any woman other than his beloved Grace.
Pangs of guilt pricked him when he thought about Grace. He’d loved her madly, and the fact that he was thinking about another woman in a way other than sex made him feel like he was betraying her, even though he knew it was silly. It’d been six years since he’d buried Grace, yet his heart still clenched whenever he thought about her. The excruciating pain which consumed him during the first couple of years after she’d died had dissipated to a dull, ever-present ache.
He’d met Grace at a biker rally when he was twenty-five years old and she was twenty-three. The moment he saw her big, crystal-blue eyes and long blonde hair shining in the sun, he was hooked. Grace had come from a biker background—her dad belonged to the local Evergreen Dogs, a non-outlaw group. At first, her dad distrusted Banger because he was in the Insurgents, but when they’d married and given him a granddaughter, he’d learned to accept their relationship.
From the moment he met her until she died, Banger loved Grace. They had their ups and downs like any married couple, but they made a pact to stay together no matter what. And they went through a lot, especially early on when the Insurgents and the Deadly Demons were waging a turf war. Those were hard, bloody times, and Grace would always cry when he left the house to take care of club business, never knowing if he’d come back alive. She’d stuck through it, and when Banger took the reins as president and worked to stop the bloodshed, their marriage survived all the late nights he gave to the brotherhood. Because of her biker background, Grace never questioned Banger’s loyalty to the Insurgents. She knew the club came first, and it was something that no citizen could ever understand.
Then Kylie, all pink and blonde with the sweetest blue eyes, came into their lives, and her birth brought Banger and Grace even closer. He never looked at another woman, and even though his wife would be insecure at times when he’d go to the parties where young, pretty women threw themselves at the president, he was never tempted. To him, the most beautiful woman was waiting for him at home, so the lure of easy sex never did it for him.
One rainy afternoon, Grace had taken his hand and kissed it,
her blue eyes glistening, and she told him in a hushed tone that she had ovarian cancer. Banger had never been terrified of anything in his life, but those two words spread fear and darkness over him like nothing ever had. The only way he knew how to fight was with his fists, a gun, and a knife, but those didn’t work with cancer. So he kept a smile on his face while he held her hand through the surgery, chemotherapy, radiation, and the last dying weeks. He had to be strong for Grace and Kylie; he didn’t want them to see him cry, so he reserved those moments for when he was alone in his office.
Belle lit a fire in him he thought had been extinguished six years ago. She’d been on his mind ever since she’d slammed into him a couple of days before. He couldn’t figure her out. The way she kissed him and brightened when she saw him told him she felt the spark too, but she was scared. He didn’t think it was of him, per se, but maybe the idea of being with a man. Her hesitation didn’t mean much—he’d still pursue her—it just made him want to know what she was hiding in her heart.
Knock, knock.
Startled, Banger sat up in his chair. “Come in.”
Rock poked his head through the open door. “Everyone’s assembled for church.”
Glancing at his phone, Banger said, “Fuck, I lost track of time. I’m coming.” He rose to his feet and exited with Rock at his heels.
