He nodded and I decided to leave via the door from his office, rather than heading back through the lobby. It was faster and it meant I could avoid Richard Waters who usually hung around to speak with Eleanor whenever he visited.
As I walked to my car in the front, a deafening roar had me frozen in place.
A sea of black and chrome motorcycles flew by me, passing right in front of the church, and I couldn’t help myself from laying my hand over my racing heart. My word, they were loud… and intimidating… and kind of exciting. I shoved that thought deep down in my soul. I was not allowed to think they were exciting. They were dangerous and the bikers certainly were not good people (as Brad had told me on more than one occasion).
The problem with me, however, was that I found myself enamored by motorcycles and the men who rode them. I’d always been drawn to them. I couldn’t tell you why, but one of my earliest memories as a child was pulling away from my mother in a mall parking lot and running toward a motorcycle parked near our car. We’d been visiting her sister in San Diego, and we were getting a few supplies for our Disneyland visit the following day.
There was an older man with long hair and an even longer beard who saw me coming (probably because my mother let out a scream of fear), and knelt down to my level as I laid my hand on the bike.
“Pretty.”
He grinned. “You like my hog, huh?”
I nodded.
“This here’s a Harley Davidson Fatboy.”
I wrinkled my nose. “It’s not nice to say ‘fat.’”
He chuckled. “No, I don’t suppose it is.”
I stared at the man and knew I’d never forget his eyes. Ever. They were blue and they were kind… like Daddy’s.
“Willow!” my mother admonished. “Do not run away from me again.”
“Sorry, Mama. I like the hog.”
“The what?” she asked, and the man stood back up.
“My bike. I call it a hog.”
“Oh,” Mama said, and tugged me closer to her legs. “Well, thank you for letting her look at your motorcycle.”
“My pleasure, ma’am.”
Mama pulled me (reluctantly) to our car and we drove away, never to see the man or the motorcycle again.
Brought back to the present by one of the bikers looking my way, I licked my lips and waited for the last bike to drive out of view. I noticed the patches on the backs of their jackets read: Dogs of Fire: Savannah, and it sounded kind of tame for a motorcycle gang. I suppose there was the fire bit, but no mention of Satan or pictures of nude women on their vests. I shook off my thoughts and climbed into my car, driving the opposite way of the men.
* * *
Dash
As I passed the Baptist Church, I couldn’t help but notice the leggy blonde standing by an older model Toyota Tercel. Fuck me, she was gorgeous.
She wore a thin, yellow sundress that stopped at her knees, and some sweater thing that covered her arms. She’d finished off the innocent as fuck lookin’ outfit with cowboy boots and I suddenly felt pressure against my zipper. I imagined myself fucking her right out of the slip of fabric she called a dress, but I’d insist she keep those boots on.
CHAPTER TWO
Willow
Brad arrived at seven on the dot. I was still wearing my yellow sundress, mostly because it was new and I loved it, but I’d changed out of my boots and wore a pair of strappy heels.
“Hi,” I said, and Brad kissed me quickly before walking inside.
“Hi, sweetheart.” He looked me up and down. “The dress is a little short, don’t you think?”
I frowned. “Is it?”
“Yes.”
“But I love this dress.”
“Okay,” he said with a quiet sigh. “If you like it.” Then added, “And you think that’s the best decision.”
“I do like it, but if you want me to change, I will.”
“Never mind, we don’t have time,” he said. “I’ll just say hi to your father and we can go.”
Well, now I felt like crap, but I trusted Brad and knew he didn’t say it to hurt my feelings. He loved me. Brushing off my melancholy, I followed him into the den where Dad was on his computer and waited for them to say their hellos.
My dad chuckled. “Well, hi there, soon to be son-in-law.”
“Alfred.” Brad shook his hand. “Good to see you.”
“Where are you heading tonight?”
“Chez Orange.”
“Oh-ho, fancy.”
Brad wrapped an arm around my waist and smiled. “Our girl deserves it.”
I blushed, my heart warming. “Thanks, honey.”
He gave me a gentle squeeze and I let out a quiet, “Sorry, darling.” Brad hated “honey.” He’d asked me to call him love or darling, but honey was off the table. I kept forgetting, but was glad he was patient with me.
“Well, we better get going,” Brad said. “Our reservation is in twenty minutes.”
Daddy kissed me on the cheek. “Have a great time.”
“Thanks, Daddy,” I said, and followed Brad out of the house.
He held the door for me and I slid into the car, careful of my “short” dress. He walked to his side and climbed in, securing his seatbelt.
“How was your day?” I asked as we drove.
“Good. How was yours?”
I sighed. “Fun. Jazz, Parker, and I went looking at dresses.”
He smiled. “Did you find anything?”
“Not yet.” I waved my finger in the air. “But I will.”
He chuckled. “Are you excited?”
I smiled. “Very excited. Are you?”
“Yes. I love you, Willow.”
“I love you, too.”
We arrived at the popular and expensive French restaurant in downtown Savannah, and I waited for Brad to collect me. As we walked inside, he took my arm in his (he felt holding hands was too ‘high school’ and public displays of affection were gauche), and then guided me in front of him so he could hold the door.
Brad spoke with the Maître D’ and then he guided me in front of him again to follow the man to our table.
After Brad ordered for me, I tried to broach the subject of our living situation once we were married. I really wanted to stay close to my father, however, he had his eye set on a mansion by the water. The thought made me cringe, to be honest. I understood my place as the wife of a politician (he was currently vying for a seat in the senate), and we’d need to entertain some very important people, but I liked people.
People of all kinds, not just the rich or the pretty.
The thought of being alone in a gigantic house while the rest of my friends were an hour away and working, was tough to swallow. I’d be isolated and I knew myself well enough to know that, as an extrovert, it would kill me.
Before I could say anything, however, a man and a woman walked toward us and my breath left my body. I knew him. How did I know him?
He had long hair and a long beard, tattoos and a rough look about him. Despite his clean, dark jeans and button-up shirt, I had a feeling this wasn’t his usual attire. They were seated at the table next to us, in a u-shaped booth, and I watched as he slid to the middle, wrapping an arm around the woman to pull her close and kissing her temple.
The woman was a beautiful and graceful blonde. She wore a dress similar to mine, only a little shorter and a lot more low-cut. She was stunning and wholly enamored with her date. I took a slow, deep breath. I wanted that.
“They will let anyone in nowadays,” Brad hissed under his breath.
“Brad,” I whispered.
He frowned. “What?”
“Please don’t be rude.”
He sighed and leaned forward. “If you can’t afford to eat here every day, and dress appropriately for the event, then you shouldn’t bother.”
“How do you know he can’t afford to eat here every day?” I challenged.
“Look at him. He looks like one of those bikers.”
Well,
he had me on that. He did look like one of ‘those bikers.’ He was sexy. I bit my lip. I shouldn’t notice those kinds of things.
“Bikers can’t afford to eat at expensive restaurants?” I asked.
Brad shot me a look without comment.
“And does he need to sit so close?” Brad continued. “I didn’t come here to watch an erotic film.”
I blushed. I’d never seen an erotic film, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t tracking with him. “They’re obviously in love. I think it’s sweet.”
“Lust is more like it,” he ground out. “It’s disgusting.”
“Would you like to leave?” I asked.
“No,” he said with a sigh. “I won’t let the likes of him ruin my evening.”
I stared at him. I couldn’t believe that a couple enjoying a romantic dinner would register on the things that would ‘ruin’ Brad’s evening. It bothered me. Enough that I sat quietly and picked at my salad. I couldn’t stop covertly glancing at the other table. They were so in love. She giggled a lot while he whispered to her, close to her ear, kissing her cheek, her neck, her lips.
My heart raced and my nether regions tingled. Good lord, he was sexy.
“Willow,” Brad rasped.
“Sorry, what?” I asked.
He sighed. “You’re angry with me.”
“No, not at all.”
“Why are you so quiet, then? I usually have to ask you to stop talking.”
I forced myself not to scowl at him. “Would you excuse me for a minute? I have to use the ladies’ room.”
I rose to my feet (as did Brad) and I headed to the bathroom. I was suddenly so angry I could spit. Not the appropriate emotion for a future senator’s wife.
As I was washing my hands, the lady with the sexy man walked in. She gave me a lovely smile and said, “I absolutely love your dress.”
She was British. Of course she was. She simply oozed class.
“Thank you so much,” I said. “I was thinking the same thing of yours.”
“My husband surprised me with it today… along with a week away without the children.”
“That’s so sweet,” I said. “You look very happy together.”
She nodded, her expression growing dreamy. “He’s the best man I’ve ever known.”
“Have you ever been to Savannah before?”
“No. It’s beautiful. I feel like a week won’t be enough time.”
I gave her a few “locals” favorites and then headed back to the table, nearly running into her husband.
“Sorry, babe. Didn’t mean to startle you,” he said.
“You didn’t.” I smiled.
“My wife still in there?”
I nodded. “Yes.”
“You okay?”
I frowned. “Sorry, I’m being rude.”
“How exactly are you being rude?”
“I’ve been taught staring is rude.”
“I’m flattered you’re starin’ at me,” he joked.
“It’s just that you look very familiar to me.”
He crossed his arms. “Oh, yeah?”
“I can’t quite place it.”
“Well, since I’ve never been to Savannah, I’d imagine it’s not me who’s familiar.”
I sighed. “Maybe not.”
“Hatch, stop flirting.”
I turned to see the blonde walking toward us. Hatch chuckled. “Was makin’ sure you didn’t fall in.”
“Oh, you’re hilarious,” she retorted.
I blushed… again. “Well, I should get back to my fiancé.”
“He’s a handsome young man,” the blonde said.
“Thank you.”
“I’m Maisie, by the way,” she said, reaching her hand out.
I shook it and smiled. “Willow.”
“Oh, that’s such a gorgeous name,” she breathed out.
“Thank you. Mama loved it as well,” I said, my heart a little sad. “I really hope you enjoy Savannah. I certainly love living here.”
“Thank you for the suggestions,” she said.
“You’re welcome.” I left them in the hallway and made my way back to the table. Brad stood as I approached and held my chair for me, leaning down to kiss my cheek quickly before taking his own.
I was a little surprised… he never showed me any kind of affection in public. I liked it. I liked it very much.
Hatch and Maisie returned to their table a few minutes after me and Maisie shot me a sweet smile. I focused back on Brad and we finished our dinner.
Once Brad paid the check, we rose to leave just as Hatch called out, “Nice to meet you, Willow.”
I smiled, but Brad looked like he was about to combust. “Let’s go,” he snapped.
I glanced at Hatch, I don’t know why, but when I did, I saw his expression form a scary glare toward my fiancé. He moved to leave the table, but Maisie grabbed his arm.
I gasped, ignoring Brad’s order. “Give me a second,” I said, and walked to their table.
“You okay, babe?” Hatch asked.
“Huh?”
“Your… companion. Not likin’ the way he’s talkin’ to you.”
“Oh, he’s fine. He blusters sometimes.” I waved my hand dismissively. “Were you ever in San Diego?”
“Used to live there.”
“Do you have a Harley… um… Fatboy?”
“Yeah, why?”
“Because I think I’ve met you… in a mall parking… I’m not sure where. I was little, but I remember a motorcycle and running toward it, and then the next day we went to Disneyland.”
“Were you with your mom? And you told me it was mean to say ‘fat.’”
“Yes,” I said excitedly. “It was you! I knew I’d never forget your eyes.”
He grinned. “Oh, yeah?”
“You do have lovely eyes, darling,” Maisie said.
“Willow,” Brad growled, taking my arm. “We’re leaving. Now.”
“You need to get your hands off her,” Hatch warned.
Brad released me immediately.
I could feel unadulterated rage pouring off him, so I slid my purse over my shoulder and smiled at Hatch and Maisie. “Well, it was very nice to meet you both. I hope you enjoy your visit.”
“Thanks, love,” Maisie said.
Hatch nodded, but continued to watch Brad closely as he turned and started toward the doors. I followed, a little apprehensive about his irritation, but not regretting having met the couple.
* * *
Dash
Saturday afternoon, I was sittin’ on one of the club’s sofas, knockin’ back my second beer, new girl on my lap (I think her name was Susan), and she’d just given me the blow job of a lifetime… hence the reason she was currently on my lap. If she was gonna work that hard to suck my dick, she deserved a little more quality time with me.
“Dash!” Badger bellowed.
I didn’t move. “What?”
My fellow club brother stalked toward me. “Hatch and his woman are walkin’ in.”
“Shit.” I set Susan aside and rose to my feet. “He’s early.”
“Yeah, man, I fuckin’ know.”
“Where’s Doc?”
“He’s runnin’ late. He asked us to ‘entertain.’”
“Fuck,” I breathed out. “Hatch’s woman’s high-class.”
Badger laughed. “Yeah, but she married Hatch, so she’s gotta be cool.”
I glanced around the clubhouse. Pool table, bar, TVs with some football game on, and half-dressed women makin’ out with half-baked and/or drunk club brothers. “Let’s hope so,” I grumbled, and we headed toward the front doors.
Hatch Wallace was the Sgt. in Arms for the Dogs of Fire in Portland… the original chapter. He’d been in the San Diego chapter before moving to Portland, and he was now visiting Savannah. He’d been close buddies with Doc, our VP, so I guess he’d decided to come out for a vacation. That’s all we knew, but I had a feeling something else was goin’ on.
Hatch
walked in ahead of his woman, but had her hand in his as they stepped into the lobby area of the clubhouse. Fuck me, his woman was smokin’. She was about five-feet-seven, blonde, legs for days, and she wore clothes that looked like they cost more than my bike. Shit, her sunglasses alone probably cost more than my Harley.
Introductions were made and Hatch pulled a jump drive from his pocket. “Doc’s runnin’ late,” he said. “I told him I’d drop this by so he could look at it before we hook up with everyone at Barney’s.”
Barney’s was our favorite hole-in-the-wall bar and pool hall. When we wanted to meet up with friends who weren’t club brothers, we went there, and tonight a bunch of us were meetin’ to play pool and shoot the shit.
“He’s gonna be here in twenty,” I said. “You wanna wait?”
Hatch shook his head. “Promised Maisie we’d do some sightseeing shit.”
“Oh, nice, love,” she deadpanned, speaking like the fuckin’ Queen of England. “Blame me.”
He laughed. “Do I look like a man interested in touring every haunted mansion in Savannah?”
“If you know what’s good for you, you will.”
I forced myself not to grin. This bitch was hot and funny. Wicked combination.
“He can call me if he has any questions, but tell ’im I’ll probably ignore him.”
Badger chuckled. “Okay, man.”
“It was lovely to meet you both,” Maisie said.
“You too, babe,” I said.
“We’ll see you tonight,” Hatch said, and headed back out the way he came.
I walked back into the common room to find Susan had moved onto another brother, so I grabbed a fresh beer and joined Badger at the pool table.
* * *
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Piper Davenport writes from a place of passion and intrigue, combining elements of romance and suspense with strong modern day heroes and heroines.
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The Road Back (Limelight Series Book 2) Page 22
