by Cathryn Cade
"And here's your combo platter," the woman said, moving aside to let a young waiter deposit a platter in the middle of their table. It was filled with fried tidbits and fresh veggies, as well as dips. "Careful, it's hot. Are you ready to order your dinners?"
"We ain't even looked at the menus yet," T-Bear told her. "Come back in fifteen with some fresh drinks?"
"Will do," the woman chirped, and Manda knew she was envisioning that double tip.
"Dig in," T-Bear offered, indicating the platter. "An' please tell me you ain't on a diet, 'cause this here looks like heaven on a plate."
Yes, it did. So heavenly that Manda didn't even bother to argue. Or tell him that a person had to be getting regular meals before they could worry about dieting. For the few months her budget, thanks in large part to Tim, had not extended to much more than a couple of meals a day, if that.
She selected a crisp potato skin loaded with sour cream, bacon bits and fresh chives, and took a big bite. Rich flavor flooded her mouth, and she hummed with pleasure as she chewed and swallowed. So good.
He waggled his brows at her over a barbecued chicken wing, which looked dainty in his huge hands. "Tasty, huh?"
She nodded, reaching for another skin. Her drink was good too, a sweet and tangy froth. They ate in silence for a few moments, talk and laughter eddying around them, the fire crackling quietly under its hood. Three skins, two wings and several sticks of celery with blue cheese dip later, she wiped her fingers on her napkin, and sat back. He was still eating with gusto.
"You done already?" he asked.
Manda nodded. "I am. You finish up." She sipped the last of her drink.
Moments later, he tossed his own napkin on the platter, empty except for a few chicken bones, and drained his beer. "Good enough to hold me till dinner gets here."
Then, as her eyes widened, he grinned. "Hey, I'm a big guy. Gotta fuel the machine, y'know." He winked, and Manda giggled. She clapped her fingers to her lips. Whoa, that drink must be stronger than she thought.
She shrugged mentally. She was having a good time, she didn't have to drive herself home and he was a nice guy who wasn't going to try and get her smashed and take advantage. So who cared if she got a teensy bit tipsy?
"If you were a machine," she told him, leaning her chin in her hand and letting her gaze drift over his massive shoulders and burly arms, "You'd be a… not a tank or anything like that. And not a truck, even though you drive one..." she pursed her lips, thinking.
He leaned forward, his eyes dancing. "Big Boy Harley," he told her, and nodded, as if that settled the matter.
"What?" Manda frowned at him.
"Harley-Davidson," he told her. "That's what I ride. An' she's a sweet ride, 'cept in the winter. Then I drive my truck."
"Oh-hh," she breathed. "You're a motorcycle club guy. The nice kind." Like Rezan had told her about. Not the scary, crazy kind like the Rattlers.
He tipped his head to one side, giving her a look that said her words didn't compute. "The nice kind?"
She nodded. "Yeah, Rezan told me that there's no one like those horrible Rattlers up here. That you're good guys who just like to ride together."
T-Bear blinked. "Ah-huh. That's us."
For once, he didn't seem to know what to say next. He looked almost relieved when the waitress appeared again.
She gave them both fresh drinks. They ordered steaks, a small one for Manda and the biggest on the menu for T-Bear, with sides of baked potato and vegetable.
"Hey," Manda said after a few sips of her fresh drink. "How did you get the nickname T-Bear? Is your name Teddy?" She hoped it wasn't Tim, 'cause that would just be too evil a coincidence.
He smiled at her over his beer. "Naw, last name's Turner. The T's from that."
"Oh. So what's your first name?"
"John." He gave her an odd, twinkling look, as if he knew a joke she didn't.
She didn't get the joke, but whatever. "That's a good name. John Turner—at least everyone can spell it. You wanna know how many ways there are to screw up Kowitsky? A lot!"
He chuckled deep in his chest. "Leave out the 'up' and I might wanna know that."
Manda blinked. Um, what? That was sort of raunchy.
Again, luckily, they were interrupted, this time by a loud male voice. "T-man! Thought that was you. What you doin' way up here in the woods, brother?"
T looked around, already smiling as a skinny man with silver hair and a hard face stopped by their table. "Knife. Good to see you, brother. Heard you was back from Cali. How's your kids?"
The older man looked Manda over, looked back to T and jerked his head toward the front doors.
T instantly pushed back his chair and rose. "Back in a minute," he said to Manda, and the two men walked away.
The stranger wore a black leather vest with something on the back. She caught just a glimpse of a grinning skeleton and some words before T's massive frame blocked the other man from her view.
A chill penetrated the warm glow of rum, good food and a date with a nice guy. That looked like the kind of leather vest worn by biker gangs.
Did riding clubs wear leather vest with semi-scary illustrations on the backs?
If Tim hadn't taken off with her phone, Manda would do a Google search to find out. As it was, she could only wonder.
Maybe T-Bear's riding club just liked to dress up and look bad-ass? That was probably it, she told herself firmly. Just guys being macho.
Although T's friend had super cold eyes. Him, she could imagine being in one of the bad motorcycle gangs.
A moment later, their steaks arrived, along with more drinks. Everything looked delicious, and Manda was glad to be distracted from her worries.
T-Bear came back and they tucked into their steaks. He told her a funny story about his truck backfiring in traffic in Coeur d'Alene the previous summer, and scaring everyone around him, resulting in dirty looks and even a few shouted curses from, shockingly, a white-haired woman in a sedan. "Could not believe a church lady like her knew some o' them words." He shook his head, and Manda laughed. She seemed to do that a lot with him.
She couldn't finish her meal, so it was boxed up for her. A little self-consciously, she tucked the last of the bread from their basket in the box with it.
She looked up to see T nodding approvingly. "Lunch tomorrow, right? My ma always does that when I take her out to eat. Takes it to school with her."
"Your mom is a teacher?"
"Nah, classroom aide over in Wenatchee. She knows all kindsa shit though. Helped me with my homework a lot. 'Course she also worked at my school, so I got away with zip."
Manda's smiled slipped. She couldn't remember her mother ever taking the time to set foot in a school building. To quote her, 'she'd walked her ass out for the last time when she was seventeen, and that was all of her time those stuck-up bitches were getting'.
"You wanna stay and listen to music?" T-Bear offered, as a trio of men carrying guitars and a saxophone strolled to a back corner clear of tables.
"Whatever you want to do," she said. This seemed the least she could do after he'd bought her dinner.
He smiled slowly, and just like that, the heat was back. "Then I say we get outta here. I'm ready for dessert."
Manda lost her breath. She pushed back her chair and rose, put on her sweater coat and picked up her clutch, her mind spinning.
Did he mean what she thought he meant by that? Because that heat in his eyes said he was talking about more than a couple of kisses.
And if he did... did she want that?
Maybe she did. He was certainly a panacea for what ailed her—being dumped so thoroughly by her ex-boyfriend that he took her money, her things and their one vehicle, and left her in the dubious care of a stranger.
Maybe being held in the massive arms of a gentle giant who looked at her as if she was indeed sprinkled with honey-comb, was just what she wanted. What she even kind of needed. Like the quote from that old movie about taking comfort in the k
indness of strangers.
And like Rezan had said, what better way to say a big 'Eff you!' to Tim.
And so it was when T-Bear made the turn off the highway at the crooked sign, she looked over at him and smiled. "When we get to my cabin, you wanna come in for a while?"
She wasn't expecting his quizzical look, or the deep rumbly laugh that followed. "Yeah," he said. "'Course I do."
Once again, she felt as if she was missing a joke.
Oh, well. His chuckle wasn't snarky, just amused. He was attracted to her, and she was attracted to him. Whatever else happened between them, she felt instinctively she could trust him to be sweet about it.
And she didn't have to worry about him betraying her, because they weren't involved in anything but a hookup. They'd spent the evening together, they'd likely have sex—hopefully good sex—and then they would both move on.
She thought wistfully that for some lucky woman who'd get more than one night with him, John 'T-Bear' Turner wasn't the kind of man who would dazzle her with devotion, and then discard her like an empty fast food wrapper. Nope, he wasn't a bit like Tim.
Heck, she'd bet even Chloe would like him a lot.
* * *
CHAPTER SIX
* * *
His honey girl was quiet on the ride back to the Pine Cabins.
But when T looked over at her, she was relaxed, smiling and bobbing her head to the beat of Clare Dunn's country song, about how her guy didn't need no tuxedo to look good.
T wasn't into girl artists as a rule, but this song was a winner in his book.
He was a tee-shirt, leather club cut and work pants man himself, and more likely to be wearing boots than any other foot-gear. Steel-toed work boots, motorcycle boots and western boots, all good.
Anything else, questionable. Shiny dress shoes like a man would wear with a fancy tux, hell-to-the-fuck no.
But Manda seemed to like him this way just fine. She hadn't even hesitated when she invited him back to her cabin.
Although, dancing for a while would've been okay with him too. Nothin' like a slow dance for a chance to snuggle a pretty woman in close, feel her titties up against his chest, and maybe get his hands on her ass.
In a nice way, of course, 'cause the Roadhouse was not the Flyers' club house.
His cock liked the idea of holding her, a lot. Looking forward to filling his hands with her ass and his mouth with her nipples had his pants feeling too tight. Hell, he was gonna have the imprint of his zipper on the underside of his unit if he didn't get them both naked soon.
They rolled along the highway among the flow of Saturday evening traffic in a small town, then turned off the highway and headed north through the dense darkness of the forest.
There was a lonely yard light on at the Pine Cabins, and as they passed, the flicker of a big screen TV in the first cabin by the office. Looked like Faro was there. That was good. When T left, Manda wouldn't be out here alone—not that the place itself was anything to shout about.
He frowned to himself as he pulled the truck to a stop and turned off the engine. He wanted to fuck her bad, but he also wanted to ask her if she was gonna be okay out here in this rundown, nearly empty place.
Like a fancy gold earring dropped on the oil-stained floor of JJ's Auto, she just didn't belong here.
Hell, he wouldn't fuck the kinda woman who did belong here. He might be a horny biker, but he wasn't desperate.
"T-Bear?" she asked, her soft voice breaking the silence. "Is something wrong? You don't have to come in if you don't want to."
"Huh?" He looked to her, his truck door already wide open. She looked worried, a little embarrassed, like she didn't know what to think. "Hell, yeah, I wanna come in."
He hurried around and helped her down, then waited as she unlocked the door and let them both in. The cabin was warmer than it had been before, but now it smelled of scorched dust from the cheap space heater glowing by the wall.
"Sorry, honey girl, didn't mean to ruin the mood. I just don't like this dump," he told her, shutting the door behind them. "No place for a fine woman like you."
She turned to him, and gave him another pretty smile, her brown eyes warm. "Thanks. But don't worry, I'm not staying here much longer." She shook her head, her silky hair swinging around her face, a strand catching on her glossy lips.
T moved in and reached to brush the strand away with one forefinger. Her skin and hair were so silky and warm, he had to touch more of her. He slid his hand around to cup the side of her throat under her hair, his thumb brushing over her pulse at the edge of her jaw.
She was soft, delicate and warm under his big paw, but the sparkle in her eyes said she was spirited too.
Course maybe that was just the three drinks she'd consumed—wasn't like he was much of a judge of women.
"You're not stayin' around, huh?" he asked. "Then I best get me some honey before it's gone."
She giggled softly, her hands on his chest. They felt good there, although too much fabric between him and her. "That's right," she said, tipping her head to give him a flirty look from under her lashes. "'Cause I'll be gone before you can say 'Where'd she go?' And then you'll have to..."
T didn’t hear where she was going with that, ‘cause he shut her up with a kiss.
He wasn't in the habit of kissing women, mainly because the women who hung around the Flyers' clubhouse and partied with them were as likely to smoke as not. Thus, their breath often smelled of cigarettes or weed, and of too much booze. Or for some of the really wild ones, even another man's cum.
But this woman smelled sweet, and the only thing on her breath was that fancy drink of hers. Fresh, healthy woman laced with lime and a little rum.
So he ducked in and shut her up with his mouth on hers. Her lips were pillowy and parted on a gasp when he sucked on the bottom one. With a happy groan he nudged her lips apart, and tasted her. Her tongue curled around his, and she leaned against him, her fingers curling tight in his shirt.
Oh, yeah. Now that's what he was talkin' about. Her, he wanted to kiss.
Doing so with enthusiasm, T slid one hand down the curve of her back to her ass, and filled his hands with the lush curves. Oh, nice handfuls, the way he'd known they would be. He gave her a squeeze and pulled her in tight. Her breasts pillowed against his hard abdomen, and his cock prodded against the slight curve of her belly.
She made a startled sound in her throat, and her short nails dug into his chest, little stings that did nothing to quell the sheer lust roaring through him.
Fuck, she smelled so good, like clean woman and the faint flowery scent of shampoo or whatever. She tasted good, her mouth warm and wet and sweet.
And the way she felt in his arms, so lithe and soft and yet strong, the essential contradiction of a healthy, young female. Bet her pussy would be even wetter. If not, he hoped she had lube, 'cause he was a big man, and his cock was hard as a railroad spike.
"You okay?" he asked, just in case those nails of hers were trying to let him know to ease up, or back off.
"Mm-hmm," she murmured, her heavy eyes on his lips. "I really like the way your beard and 'stache feel on my skin. Tickles."
"Glad you like it," he muttered, his mind on getting her dress off of her.
He kissed her again, and moved them toward the bed, although he was so ready he could take her right here, right now, standing up. Hell, he could just tell her to wrap her legs around his hips, rut into the soft furrow between her thighs, and cum like a teenage boy.
He had plans, he reminded himself desperately. Plans for which he'd paid good money, and which he'd had plenty of time to refine since then. Especially once he sat across from her at dinner, and watched her slide food in through those soft, pillowy, peach lips, and listened to her hum with pleasure as she licked a stray drop of ranch dip off her lip.
"Oh!" she said as the bed hit her in back of her knees. Her eyes opened, and she gave him a shy, pleased look that made his balls draw up tight, ready to blow. Like she wa
s so into their kiss she hadn't even noticed him getting her to the bed.
He fumbled for the zipper at the back of her dress, and found none. "How's this thing open up?"
"I can just pull it off over my head." She grasped the hem and pulled up. T took a step back and fumbled with the snaps on his shirt, watching raptly as she shimmied her hips in a sexy little move.
Her dress rose to her waist, and he nearly swallowed his tongue . Oh, mama. Those legs just got better and better as they went up. Round, full hips, a sweet little belly, covered only by a pair of tiny white panties, half of them lace.
Her mons played peek-a-boo through the lace as she tugged the dress farther up, revealing the lithe dip of her waist, and then her ribs.
She ducked one shoulder, her elbow going down into the body of the dress. With one of those complicated wriggles only females are capable of performing, she pulled the dress up, her other arm came free, and she drew the dress over her head.
With a shy glance at him, she moved to lay the dress over the back of the nearest chair.
And there she stood, in high-heeled booties, white lace bikini panties and a bra that was more of a tease than anything.
Her titties weren't big, but they were round and sweet, and topped with tight, peachy nipples poking out at him through white lace. T’s mouth watered, and he calculated his chances of getting a taste of them before shooting his load just from that.
Nope, he had to get inside her before he did anything else. Then, later they'd have plenty of time to play. He'd get that blow job he so desperately wanted, and maybe a taste of her too. See if she tasted as sweet and naughty in her panties as he fantasized. Although he might should ask to see her latest med checkup first. Even a gorgeous woman could carry the herp, or worse. So, no oral, and he'd suit up, but dang, he was sorry to miss out on that.
With one jerk, he ripped his shirt open, shrugged it off and threw it behind him. Still gazing at her, he reached behind his head and grabbed a handful of tee, then yanked it off over his head and tossed it after his shirt.
Her eyes widened, and her lips rounded in a luscious 'o'. She gazed at his bare torso in a way that had him wanting to tip back his head and howl to the wintry moon and stars. Fuck, that look made him feel proud as an NFL quarterback and action movie star rolled into one.
