by Lexy Timms
“This is where I raised my family.” The stubborn woman refused to budge. “My poor husband’s fingerprints are on every inch of this house. I can’t leave it, not while I’m living.”
“But the second floor is getting tough for you.”
“I know, but I need the rent from the first floor to make expenses. I don’t need all that space anymore. I’ll be fine, Emily. With you helping me with the little things, I’m getting on well enough.”
Emily hadn’t tried to convince her to move anymore after that.
She jogged up the stairs and knocked on Mrs. Diggerty’s door.
“Mail,” Emily called through the door.
“Just slip it under,” Mrs. Diggerty said from inside her room. “I’m resting with my feet up.”
“Sure.” Emily shuffled through the mail once more, almost putting a postcard in with Mrs. Diggerty’s batch, when she stopped and looked at it again. “Central Valley Bike Repairs” was the name on the window of the building. That was odd. She turned it over to see it was addressed to her. The message stopped her short.
I still think about you.
She gasped. It couldn’t be.
No.
Hastily she stuffed Mrs. Diggerty’s mail under her door and unlocked the door to her own apartment. She stared at the card, unsure of what to do. Was it from Luke? Or was this Evan playing a sick joke on her? Who else could it be? Quickly she pulled out her laptop and fidgeted nervously as the machine booted up. She googled Central Valley Bike Repair and got an address, and a phone number, but little else.
Her hands shaking, she called the phone number the Internet gave her.
“Central Valley Bike Repair,” a voice said. “Gibs here.”
Emily didn’t know what to do. Should she ask for Luke and see if he was there? What if this Gibs guy was one of Evan’s friends?
She hung up.
Staring at the address again, she tried to picture it. It was in Walkerville, the next town over. Should she drive over? If she was, it should be today, because tomorrow she had to be back in work. Emily decided she had to know. With a quick cuddle to Reger, she set off down the stairs to find the source of the mystery postcard.
#
She couldn’t believe she was doing this. She pulled in to the parking lot across from Central Valley Bike Repair and gaped at it. The building was a large cinderblock rectangle, three large garage doors cut into the left three quarters of the building, and a small red door at the shop’s business entrance. The three garage bay doors were wide open, and she saw three men walking around. One was a Hispanic man, the other a guy that looked like he played for ZZ Top and a skinnier dark-haired, and strangely, clean-shaven man. But no Luke.
She was about to start her car to go home when the roar of a motorbike claimed the road. With eyes wide she saw the guy from the highway, the one who rode the 2009 XL Sportster, pull in and park at the side of the building as if he owned it.
Emily gasped. Looking at him, watching him walk and especially after he took off his sunglasses, she knew it was Luke Wade.
Oh, he was bigger, not the skinny kid she remembered. No, his chest was broader and his arms more muscled. He was fucking gorgeous.
Emily swallowed hard and her breath caught in her throat.
Luke. What was she going to do now?
She was going to go home, that was it. So he sent her a postcard. Big deal. If he knew where she was why didn’t he contact her sooner?
Emily started her car, fully intending to turn right to take her back to the highway. Right, towards home, towards safety. Towards loneliness.
At the last second she steered hard to the left, and then into the parking lot of Central Valley Bike Repair.
#
“Excuse me.” A woman’s voice cut through the shop. “Did someone here mail me a postcard?”
Luke looked up from his computer, and his mouth fell open.
Emily.
She stood in the doorway of his shop looking like an angel. He looked her over from head to toe, her blonde hair, bright blue eyes, her button nose, and those curves of hers. She was wearing a dress, a white and blue floral number that highlighted her eyes, her pale skin, and her luscious legs.
Here was an Emily ten years older, more polished, gorgeous, and sexier.
Luke pulled himself together and closed his mouth. He was acting like a high school kid. Smooth. He needed to be smooth. He smiled widely. “Glad you got it.”
She nodded her head.
“Well, um, thanks. I’ve got to go.”
Go? She just stepped in. Luke stood quickly. “Wait! I mean, you just got here. I’d love to catch up with you.”
She seemed nervous. Well, not half as nervous as he was. His heart sped up looking at her. “I really—”
“There’s a little coffee shop next door. I’m buying. Come on, one cup of coffee wouldn’t hurt, would it?” He flashed her his best grin.
“No, I guess not.” She smiled at him and his heart nearly stopped.
“Guys,” he called out. “I’m taking a break.” He didn’t hear them reply and he didn’t care. Emily walked ahead of him a couple paces out of the shop but then stopped, looking at him for direction. He pointed to the right, and she followed across the parking lot. At the cement divide between his lot and the next, she stumbled and he took her arm and steadied her as she tottered on her high heels. He almost didn’t let go of her arm, but she pulled away from him.
“It’s really good to see you.” He couldn’t stop himself from staring at her.
“Same,” she replied.
Hell, she wasn’t giving anything away. He wanted to know all about her, what happened after the accident. Why she didn’t try to see him.
They arrived at the coffee shop, and Luke navigated them to the counter. “What do you want?” He wished he could say so much more. Like, ‘You're beautiful, you’re sexy, where the hell have you been for the past ten years?’
“Just a cup of black,” she spoke, barely above a whisper. “Small.”
“Okay. Wanda, a small black and my usual.”
“Sure thing, Luke.”
Wanda handed them the coffees, Emily’s small black and Luke’s extra large with sugar and cream.
“How about here?” Luke pointed as he led her to a small table by the window.
“Sure.”
They sat and Luke looked at her. “You look great,” he said finally.
“Thanks, so do you.”
“So, what’ve you been up to?” He played with the lid of his cup.
“You mean the past ten years?” She shrugged. “Going to college, getting a job, getting arrested.”
“I read about that.” He chuckled at how matter-of-fact she said it. She in no way seemed matter-of-fact. “It’s how I knew your address.”
She gave him a questioning expression.
“The Police Blotter. In the newspaper.”
“Oh.” She took a sip of her coffee, hiding behind the cup.
“What happened?”
Emily sighed. “My own stupidity. I allowed my boyfriend to help me purchase a car. Don’t get me wrong, I paid every cent of it. When I kicked him to the curb, he got nasty and called it in as a stolen car.”
Luke shook his head as he put his cup down. “What a douche.”
“Yeah.” She looked down at her coffee, then back at him. “What about you?”
“Well, after the accident, it took a few months to get back on my feet, and then a few months more to be able to walk normally. By the time I could visit you, you’d already left for college.”
She looked down at her coffee again. “Yeah.” She shifted, as if ready to go.
Luke cleared his throat, trying to lighten the mood. “I survived. I got my GED, spent some time knocking around, then decided to do something productive. I went into the Navy, where I worked on the engines for the big ships, and saved everything I made. Saw a lot of the world, saved as much money as I could, and when I got home, used tha
t to open my shop.”
“That’s a good story. Better than mine.”
Luke felt a twinge uncomfortable not telling her the entire story, but he wasn’t going to blow his chance with her again. There was time enough to tell her everything if things went the way he wanted.
She gulped down the rest of her coffee. “Well, I have to go.” She stood. “It was nice seeing you.”
“Wait!” He tossed a couple bills on the table. “I’ll walk you back to your car.”
She hesitated and then shrugged. “Sure.”
During the walk back, Luke slipped his arm around her waist, like he used to when they were teenagers. She didn’t protest, which he took as a good sign. When they got to her car, he still held on to her.
“Luke,” she murmured.
“Em, I want to see you again.” Without waiting for her to reply, without waiting for her permission, he pulled her against him and crushed his lips to hers. His heart sped as he tasted the lips he’d missed for so many years, and like a kid, his cock got hard as he kissed her. Her lips parted, and he slid his tongue into her glorious mouth, his tongue playing with hers, the taste of her making his head spin.
She pulled away, her cheeks flushed.
“What do you say, Em? Will you see me again?”
CHAPER SIX
The Devil’s Hopyard
Saturday’s road trip plans were solid. They would drive into Middletown and head down Old Saybrook Road toward East Haddam to ultimately reach Devil’s Hopyard, a state park with good hiking trails, and a series of waterfalls had the unusual acoustic properties. The old legends of the Hopyard were that the Devil would dance on the rocks of Chapman Falls, as his minions would brew various concoctions in the naturally formed cauldron-like potholes at the bottom of the falls. The early settlers imagined these potholes were formed from the Devil’s own hooves as he danced under the falls. It was a place full of local color, which naturally attracted the Hades’ Spawn Motorcycle Club.
They could go Route 9, a double-lane highway that rode straight to the East Haddam exit, but the little towns that strung along Route 154 were more picturesque. Luke planned a stop at a popular Mexican restaurant along Route 154 for lunch. After, they’d continue down to the East Haddam turnoff and travel over the swing bridge that provided passage over the broad Connecticut River. From there they’d head through the narrow roads of the centuries-old town, which by design looked like it never entered the twenty-first century, and through the back roads until they reached the state park. On the way back they would stop at a local restaurant for dinner. The whole trip was only 60 miles round trip, but the roads were hilly and twisty, the last stretch of road before the park being a little bit of a roller coaster, so there was fun riding those roads. They wouldn’t even need to stop for gas, but Luke marked out where the gas stations were on the maps, in case anyone forgot to gas up.
Luke was looking forward to it. Well, there was one other thing he anticipated more, but Emily hadn’t said ‘yes’ right off to a date with him. She told him she had to deal with a lot of stuff right now because of all the crap with her ex. Okay. He got it. He’d have to go slow, call her a few times, and work up to a date. He waited this long. He figured he could wait a little longer. That was the benefit of not being a kid anymore.
Twenty bikes lined up in front of his shop ready to go. Some of the club members stored their bikes in his back storage space either for security or space reasons, so everyone found it convenient to meet at his shop.
Luke decided since it was a relatively short ride, and he was riding solo anyway, to take out his third bike, his 2014 Iron 883. He bought it last year on an impulse because he liked the hard black styling through the body and wheels, and the no nonsense ride. The Sportster was fun for charges down the highway, but he liked the attitude of the Iron 883. Lower to the ground than other models, and a bit shorter, it was made for maneuverability at high speeds. He loved how the bike responded to the shift of his body as he moved down the road.
Different members of the club greeted Luke as he stepped out of the shop and locked the door. He kept the shop open for half-days on Saturdays for customers who worked during the week so they could pick up their bikes. Gibs and Saks were milling around the crew, doing small checks on bikes. Luke didn’t mind, even encouraged this. It promoted good will with the club for his business. It was a definite plus for Hades’ Spawn to have three resident bike mechanics on hand.
“Hey, Spade,” said Helen, Gibs’ wife using Luke’s club name. For all Gibs groused about his wife, Gibs was lucky and knew it. Even though she was the same age as Gibs, she had a spectacular body and a sweet personality. Gibs moaned she worked out at the gym all the time, which explained the body, but a sweet personality, only the good Lord makes that.
Surprised, he saw Wanda, the barista from the coffee shop standing next to Saks’ bike.
“Hey, Luke,” she said, smiling at him.
“Hey, Wanda. Riding with Saks?”
“Saks? Oh, you mean Tony.”
“Yeah. Tony. We call him Saks.”
“Why?”
“You should ask him.”
“I’ll do that. Is it all right that I come along?”
Luke chuckled. “Sure. We don’t have the new girls partake in the ritual orgies until after a few rides. By then we’re sure if we like you or not.”
She shook her head at his joke, but grinned back at him.
Luke chatted with several members while they waited for Jake Kinney, Aces, the company president. The club had elected him as president unanimously two weeks ago.
Jake had told Luke he was annoyed with himself for the vote, sticking his hand up when he felt differently about the situation. However, he didn’t want to be the odd man out, and everyone was in agreement anyway. It felt disloyal to him that the club members were willing to give up Okie so easily.
As they waited for Aces to arrive, a couple club members came by Luke’s bike, one of them complimenting the nearly total black styling on the bike, except for the gun-gray gas tank.
Aces pulled in on his ride, and drove straight over to Luke. Luke eyed the new patch on Aces’ leathers, the one that said “President”.
“You like those Sportsters, don’t you?” Aces asked.
Technically, the Iron 883 did have a Sportster body. “There are differences. Nuances in handling.”
Aces slapped him on the back. “And you’d know about them. I’ve never met anyone who knew so much about bikes. Glad we have you here.”
He shrugged as he looked up and checked the changeable New England sky. “Looks like we have fair weather. We should get going.”
As Road Captain, Luke rode at the front of the pack with Aces. The eighteen other bikers pulled out in back of them. They roared down the road toward Route 66 that led into Middletown. They passed the diner that had been there forever, and past the faded red barn that had been turned into a bar, which was now a popular biker’s hangout. It would be many club members’ last stop for the night on the return trip.
The bikes rumbled down the four-lane road into the center of town and took a right down Main Street. Plenty of cars lined the parking spaces on either side, even for a Saturday afternoon, since Main Street had the highest proportion of restaurants to other businesses that Luke had ever seen. About ninety percent of the storefronts along Main Street were eating places.
Main Street led into Route 154, a portion of which was called Old Saybrook Road. As they left the town, the trees rose up on either side of them.
A half hour on the road brought them to the Mexican restaurant. Someone called Saks over to check the chain on his bike, so Wanda was left standing there looking lost. Luke was about to go over to her when Aces strode over and started chatting with her. Wanda looked confused, then guarded, as Aces talked to her and she shook her head. When she turned away to walk towards Saks, Aces pinched her ass.
Luke’s mouth drew into a hard line when he saw that. Touching another member�
��s lady, either a date or an old lady, was not done. Other clubs might have different rules but that one stood fast in Hades’ Spawn so as to avoid problems with the membership. Aces knew that.
Lunch went smooth enough, though he noted Aces drank more than he should and his voice got loud at their shared table. He was grabby with the waitress, which wasn’t cool. Luke felt obligated to give the woman a higher tip than usual just for putting up with Aces when he went to settle up the bill. He’d make sure he’d charge Aces for the extra amount also. Luke easily kept tabs on who ordered what, and would collect the members’ shares later. He had a head for this sort of thing, one of the reasons he was Road Captain. He never thought all through high school that his natural ability for math would come in handy. He always could remember numerical information about motorbike specs with ease. In the Navy he discovered that transferred into other mechanical areas as well. He became known as the walking dictionary of engine specifications. Even the officers deferred to his skill when it came to fixing the engines of the big boats.
They climbed back on their bikes and continued through the back roads of Connecticut to the swing bridge over the Connecticut River. Riding over it was always interesting as the bed of the bridge was completely metal to accommodate its function. It could be slippery when wet, which urged caution when traveling over it. But today was a bright, sunny day, and Luke enjoyed riding over the bridge with the water of the river sparkling in the sun. The sound of the club’s engines filled the little town as they headed up a steep and twisty climb that took them further into the backcountry of Connecticut. This town was once a significant Connecticut farming colony in the seventeen hundreds when a splinter group of Puritans broke off from the colony in Wethersfield and migrated here. Like all Connecticut towns of that period, it rapidly took on manufacturing in the eighteen hundreds, but it never lost its small town cache. Others of the original settlements, New Haven, Hartford and Bridgeport, grew into major cities. However, time slipped past East Haddam, leaving it with its history and forgotten farm fields overgrown now with trees. Anyone who didn’t know better would wonder why the road was lined with low fences of fieldstone.
