Saving Glory (Hells Saints Motorcycle Club Book 4)

by Paula Marinaro

  Stunned, Glory could do no more than nod in agreement.

  When she saw a small look of satisfaction flash between her brother and Jules, she moved away quickly, almost choking on the nerve of the two of them. Glory searched her brother’s eyes for the slightest indication of remorse or even apology for what had been a definite set up. A plan that had everything to do with Hal and Jules—his newly arrived-on the-scene, badass bestie—and absolutely nothing to do with her. Nothing to do with the sister who had been by her brother’s side through thick and thin from the beginning.

  Well, so much for gratitude. Glory thought.

  Then she took one more look at the two co-conspirators, walked out the door and slammed it hard behind her.

  Chapter 11

  Even though Glory tried her best to dismiss and ignore Jules’s larger than life hulking presence, she was losing that battle. And really he was doing nothing to make it easier. Every time Glory turned around Jules seemed to be there.

  Sweating

  And flexing

  And groaning

  Oh my

  To her utter embarrassment Jules had caught her more than once pausing and gazing at him from the shadows of the arched doorway. She couldn’t help but stop and admire the way the muscles played under his skin as he lifted the impossible looking weights or worked the heavy bag like it was filled with duck feathers.

  To make matters worse, and to her eternal mortification, whenever Jules caught Glory watching him he would stop mid-motion and look back at her with such heated intensity that her face flushed and her cheeks reddened embarrassingly.

  Oh boy

  One day just as Jules was about to leave, he paused in the middle of the room and tilted his head. Glory, who happened to be behind him with a basket full of laundry, had to stop short to avoid running into him. She stood on tippy-toes and tried in vain to look over his wide shoulders, curious as to what could have caught his interest.

  “What’s that?” Jules turned and asked her.

  “What’s what?”

  He nodded to the corner of the kitchen where an antique bucket sat almost hidden from view on the top shelf of the cupboard.

  “It’s an old fashioned ice cream maker,” Glory told him and fought the confusing urge to hide it from his view.

  “Huh. An ice cream maker? No shit?” Jules raised an eyebrow. He walked over, reached up and placed the bucket on the counter.

  Glory frowned slightly as she looked at the hand cranked device. It had been her one and only purchase during her many trips to the pawn shop back in Maryland. It hadn’t been in very good shape, and in the age of electric everything, Mack had sold it to her for practically nothing. She really wasn’t sure what possessed her to buy it. The narrow steel bands that circled the wooden slats had been all rusted, the paint had worn away in large patches and the crank handle had been heavy, and stiff from lack of use. But none of that had mattered to Glory, she only knew that once she had wrapped her arms around the heavy, awkward mixer she had not been able to let it go. She took it home, cleaned it up and sat it on her kitchen shelf where it became a catchall for things she did not want to lose.

  “Where’d ya get it?” Jules was turning the bucket with rapt attention.

  “Fast Eddie’s,” Glory told him.

  “Who’s Fast Eddie?” Jules shot out, making no attempt to keep the tone of jealousy out of his voice.

  Glory regarded him in surprise.

  “It’s Fast Eddie’s, with an s. And Fast Eddie’s isn’t a who, Jules. Fast Eddie’s is a what.”

  When Jules scowled his confusion, Glory offered an explanation, “It’s the name of a pawn shop in Maryland.”

  “What were you doing pawning shit in a shop in Maryland?” Jules looked surprised.

  “I wasn’t pawning as much as selling. I never bought back anything that I brought

  in…” Glory’s voice trailed off in a heat of embarrassment, because she had no desire to share the sad story of her bartering days with Mack. It was definitely not the picture that she wanted to paint of herself—and especially not to Jules.

  “Anyway,” She drew a deep breath and shifted attention away from the whys of Fast Eddie’s to the whats. “The shop had some really cool stuff in it. While I was waiting for my turn at the counter, I used to look around. I found this old ice cream maker sitting in the back of the store.” Glory chewed her bottom lip and regarded the bucket. She lifted her gaze to him and shrugged. “I honestly don’t know why I bought it. It just made me feel better having it around the apartment. In a strange way looking at it brought me a sort of comfort. I know it sounds kind of crazy but when Hal and I left, I couldn’t leave it behind.”

  Jules stepped in closer to her. “I don’t think it sounds crazy at all.”

  His nearness charged the air around her. She focused on the way a beam of sunlight danced on the tiny motes of dust on the crank handle of the bucket.

  Mindfulness.

  It was a technique that they had taught her in family therapy at the VA Hospital. Concentrate on things outside of yourself to calm and ground you.

  But still, with Jules so close to her, it was hard to frame her thoughts into a complete sentence.

  “You don’t?” Glory finally asked breathlessly. “You don’t think it sounds—kind of nuts? Lugging that thing across all those miles?”

  Jules folded his arm across his chest, leaned back against the wall and regarded her solemnly.

  “No. Not at all. I get it. When you think about it, it makes sense. When you went off to help out Hal you left behind a lot of things that you loved.”

  Glory blushed at the implication of his words, but Jules went on unfazed by her reaction. His hand swept across the kitchen. “I don’t think you were ever happier than when you were whipping stuff up in this kitchen. Am I right?”

  Glory smiled slightly at the memory of the wonders the oven had produced under her loving hand. But just as quickly that smile turned to a frown because her catering business had led to quite a few arguments between her and Jules. The fact that those arguments had been instrumental in their break up had wounded her beyond measure. So now his words held a double edged sword for her.

  “Yes. You’re right. I did used to love to cook in here,” Glory said somewhat stiffly.

  “Well, then maybe the ice cream maker reminded you of happier times.” He ignored her tone and continued on reasonably, “Think about it, Glory, nothing says family like the image of people sitting around a table on a hot summer night eating ice cream—talking and laughing and stuff. Could be you missed that sense of togetherness—.” Jules’s voice trailed off. “So do you think that could be it? I mean in all that time away, did you miss that?” Jules paused for a moment. “Did you miss—us?”

  Glory was surprised to find that Jules’s words had taken on an earnest sincerity as he stumbled over the question. Her initial irritation melted away as he once again revealed this new vulnerable side.

  “Of course. Of course I did, Jules. Crownsmount had become my home. I missed the town and everyone in it. ” She said with soft reassurance.

  Jules gave her another searching look, then he pushed himself off the counter and practically pounced on her.

  “So it sounds like it’s been a while. You want to do it?” He gave her a large lopsided grin as his big body crowded her against the counter.

  “Do I want to do what?” Glory managed to squeak out as she jumped back and away from him.

  “You want to whip something up in the kitchen? You want to make ice cream?” He asked eagerly.

  Glory was filled with momentarily relief at the seemingly innocent request.

  Then she thought again.

  And what she thought about was spending the afternoon in the kitchen with Jules. Their bodies working around each other in the tight spaces. The play of his large callused hands as he turned the crank handle. The soft rasp of his voice as he read out the directions while they mixed the cool creamy mixture togeth
er...

  She shook her head and waved a dismissive hand in the air. “Like I said, silly purchase. Mostly the bucket just sat on the shelf while I looked at it. I have no idea how to use the thing.”

  “Well then lucky for you, there’s a recipe book and instructions taped to the bottom of the barrel.” Jules held up the yellowed booklet while his eyes shone triumphant.

  “I don’t think I want to make ice cream, Jules.” Glory edged away from him.

  “Why not?” He arched an eyebrow in surprise.

  Glory was suddenly at a loss for words. She searched her mind frantically and could not come up with one logical reason why not. She could think of a ton of emotional reasons why it should not happen, but those, of course, she had no intention of voicing.

  Glory looked at him wide eyed and helpless.

  “Why don’t you want to make ice cream with me, Glory?” His tone gentled.

  “It seems complicated.” She voiced the first excuse she could think of.

  “Nah. It’s really not. Here take a look.” Jules answered readily. Then he crowded her in the space between the counter island and the cupboard. The side of his body pressed against hers as he smoothed the recipe booklet out on the granite.

  “Sweet.” He looked almost perplexed.

  “Well, we can reduce the amount of sugar.” Despite her resolve, curiosity got the better of her and Glory began to peruse the book with interest now.

  “Not the recipe.” He bent towards her and ran his nose along the curve of Glory’s neck. “You. Like those purple and white flowers that grow on the hills behind the clubhouse in the early spring,” he said softly to her. “Why does your skin always smell like that?”

  “It’s lilac,” she whispered, hypnotized by the stormy blue of his eyes, fascinated by the full softness of his lips.

  “It’s nice,” he whispered back.

  Their eyes held for a long moment and neither one of them moved. Glory let out a small sigh of relief when Jules broke the tension by bowing his head back to the recipe and saying, “Looks like we probably have a lot of the stuff right here.”

  Then he moved away from her and pulled open the refrigerator. “Read off the list of ingredients to me and I’ll let you know if we need anything.”

  Glory shook her head in slight protest but Jules just kept looking at her like he had all the time in the world to wait for her to read off the ingredients.

  “It’s a short list.” Glory knew when she was beaten. She bit her lip in concentration. “We have kosher salt and enough eggs but the recipe is asking for heavy cream and whole milk and we don’t have those. I usually buy one percent milk and half and half. Even combined that might not be enough fat.” Glory purposefully tucked a piece of hair out of the way and behind her ear as she felt a surge of remembered pleasure and excitement at perusing a recipe again. She looked up at him with an eagerness that now matched his own. “You are right, everything else is pretty basic. The rest of it depends on what kind of ice cream we want to make.”

  “I like strawberry, how about you?” Jules’s voice rang out with barely contained enthusiasm.

  “Strawberry is good.” She smiled up at him, finding it impossible not to be affected by his energy. “There is a strawberry patch out at the beginning of the trail that runs along the south side of the lake. I checked on it a few days ago and the berries weren’t quite ready yet, but they should be just about perfect now.”

  Jules gave her a wide smile. “How about you go pick us some strawberries and I’ll run to the store. Meet you back here in about a half hour. That sound good?”

  Glory hesitated for a moment and looked at the quaint antique device. It really did look like it was going to be fun to use and she really had nothing else to do for the rest of the day, so why not?

  “Yeah, I could make that work.” She raised her head, but realized the point was moot because Jules was already halfway out the door.

  The next few hours past in a whirl of pleasure for Glory. Jules had been right, she was never happier than when she was in the kitchen concocting something or other, and Jules made a great partner, regaling her with hilarious stories of cooking for the brothers in the club house.

  After a bit of trial and error and some good-natured arguing back and forth about whose turn it was to crank the handle, to Glory’s surprise, she and Jules had managed to put aside their differences and make a batch of homemade together.

  Later that afternoon as Jules, Glory and Hal sat around the picnic table together laughing and talking and enjoying the ice cream a ray of sun broke through the clouds. Glory paused as the light glinted off the steel band of the wooden barrel. She knew it must have been trick of the shining beam, but for just one moment she could have sworn that the old bucket winked at her.

  .

  Chapter 12

  After the impromptu ice cream making session, Jules’s daily presence in her life got both easier and harder for Glory. Easier because Jules seemed to be making an effort. He never tried to force a conversation with her, and when they did talk, he sometimes would say things that would make her laugh out loud, but he never teased her to the point where she became uncomfortable. And when he came for his workout session with Hal, Glory didn’t always see Jules. There were days when he did his circuit training and left immediately afterwards.

  On those days Glory would catch herself watching him from the window as he roared away. And although it was impossible for him to see past the glare of the glass, he always stopped at the end of the driveway and looked back up at the house as if he knew she would be watching.

  So basically the really the hard part of having Jules around, honestly had nothing to do with Jules.

  It was all her.

  Or more accurately her body’s disturbing response to him.

  It was as though every nerve ending and brain function had turned traitor. Her thighs seemed to want to open automatically and her nipples swelled and hardened as if under a spell of voodoo magic whenever Jules Bonny was around.

  Just by being in the same house with him, she'd been set back hundreds of years in the evolutionary process.

  Glory found herself having to fight a recurring fantasy of him grabbing her by the hair and hauling her off to his cave to do his bidding.

  Repeatedly.

  So in an effort to thwart her baser self, Glory tried and succeeded in mostly staying out of his way. Now, if only she could stop the flood of erotic memories.—Jules on top of her, Jules with his large hands cupping her breasts, his experienced tongue leaving wet trails on her skin, his huge—

  Glory bit down on her lip to stop herself from screaming out in frustration.

  No doubt about it, their past history of extremely satisfying sexual romps made it a daily battle for Glory to keep herself vertical and cool, calm and collected, whenever Jules was near.

  And it was a battle she was determined to win, because she had other things to think about. Although the adjustment back into the Saints family had been deliberately slow and easy, there were parts of her re-establishing those ties that still were a struggle for her.

  While she was in constant touch with Raine and Claire, she really hadn’t felt ready to attend any of the impromptu parties or gatherings that she had been invited to. But there was one event she knew she couldn’t miss. And that was Dolly’s bakery shop opening.

  On the day of the party, Glory was as jumpy as a cat on a hot tin roof. Despite the fact that she was thrilled for Dolly and wished her the best on her new business venture, she was really not looking forward to going to the celebration. The event was sure to be filled with people she had not seen in a long time and she really wasn’t up to making small talk with the old ladies of the HSMC, or explaining to the mob wives why she was not reviving her catering business.

  But missing out on the chance to show Dolly her support was unthinkable. So Glory put on a pretty dress, poured herself a drink and steeled herself to meet the challenge of the day. An hour later she was
three drinks in and still waiting to meet that challenge.

  Hal had surprised her when he agreed to go with, but now he was late, and not just a little bit. When she saw him ride up the hill—sweating and dirty on his mountain bike—it was with a mixture of anger and relief that she greeted him at the door.

  “You’ve made us late.” Glory’s tone could have frozen peas.

  “Late for what?” Hal asked absently as he reached into the refrigerator, grabbed the orange juice container and took some long pulls from the carton.

  “You have got to be kidding me!” Glory threw up her hands in frustration. “Dolly’s bakery? The opening? The gathering that I have been reminding you about all week? Party at 4 pm? Ring a bell?”

  “Oh yeah, that.” Hal wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and said without apology, “I can’t go.”

  “You have got to be kidding me.”

  “I have an appointment with the counselor at the Veterans Center.” Hal’s tone was matter of fact.

  “Damn, how did I miss that?” Glory frowned and turned to consult the wall calendar. “I didn’t miss it! Your appointment is tomorrow, Hal.” She stabbed a finger at the glossy white square to illustrate her point.

  “Yeah, well the office called and asked me to come in today. Said that they needed to shuffle some appointments around.” Hal shrugged as he sat down on the chair to unlace his sneakers. “I didn’t think it would be a big deal.”

  “I guess if you had to change your appointment, that’s not really your fault.” Glory worried her bottom lip. She consulted the clock again and decided that Hal’s all important visit to the VA would do as an acceptable excuse for not attending the opening. She would send Dolly a big congratulations bouquet tomorrow. “Well, you’re going to need to take the car and everyone else is probably on their way there already. I’ll just stay home.”

  “You’re coming with me.” The deep voice rumbled close to her ear and Glory let out a yelp of surprise. She felt her pulse quicken as the air became charged with his energy.