by Jamie Begley
“What’s not to be happy about? I’m debt free, and I can start work on Monday. He even told Knox already that he needs to find another towing service.”
“You don’t seem happy.”
“I guess I’m scared of the unknown. I don’t deal with change easily. That’s why I came back to Treepoint.”
“I was scared when I went into the military. I was scared shitless the first time I went on a mission. I was scared the first time I was married.”
Jo nearly jerked the steering wheel. “You’ve been married?”
“Twice. Once to my high school sweetheart. The second time to a woman I met overseas.”
“You’ve been divorced twice?” She hadn’t expected him to have been married once, much less twice.
“Divorced once. My second wife died.”
Jo glanced over to see him staring ahead at the road. “I’m sorry.”
“Thank you.”
“Do you have any children?”
“No, I haven’t been blessed with any so far.”
“You want children?” She sounded as incredulous as she was.
“Is that so surprising?”
“I’m sorry. I … You just seem pretty happy as a bachelor.”
“I am happy. I won’t stay where I’m not. That’s why I joined the military when I turned eighteen.”
“I didn’t mean to be nosy.”
“You’re not. I was the one who started the conversation. You’re a strong woman, Jo. Probably one of the strongest women I’ve ever known. You’ve been able to face Curt, Justin, and Tanner, despite what they did to you. Starting a new job will be a piece of cake for you.”
“You think so?”
“I know so. I have every faith in you.”
“I didn’t take you for a religious man,” Jo teased, the enjoyment of being with him returning. “I never see you in church on Sundays.”
“The only religion I believe in is football.”
She scoffed. “I don’t believe you.”
“Believe it.” He gave her a crooked grin as she crossed the county line into Treepoint. She hated to see the turnoff to her home.
Winding through the old cars toward the garage, she pressed a button on her visor to raise the door. Driving inside when she had enough room, she parked it in the back of the garage, then looked around the almost empty space. In four days, it would be filled with The Last Riders’ motorcycles and cars.
She was about to get out of the car when Rider reached up, took the garage door opener, and put it in his pocket.
“What are you doing?”
“I wanted to have it handy for Shade when he comes in the morning to put the security camera up.”
Frowning, she got out of the car and walked outside with him, waiting for him to close the door with the opener. “I could have given it to him myself.”
“Shade wants to get an early start. There’s no need to wake you up. You haven’t been getting out of bed until ten. Enjoy what free time you have left. I’m anxious to get my car finished, almost as much as Cash wants his motorcycle restored.”
She nodded at his explanation as they walked to the house. She wanted to argue, but she wouldn’t if that meant he was going to stay another night. She couldn’t explain to herself why she wanted him alone one more night, too afraid to look inside herself to find the answer.
Rider hung his jacket up on the peg on the wall before sitting on the couch, propping his feet on the coffee table, and nabbing the television remote before she could.
“What are we going to watch tonight?”
Jo sat down on the other side of the couch. “Zombie Apocalypse is on Netflix.”
“No, let’s watch something else.”
“Like what?”
“I don’t care as long as it’s not dead people wandering around, looking for something to eat.”
“Are you scared?” she said in a sing-song voice.
“No, you are.”
“Me?” She looked at him in astonishment. “I love zombie movies.”
“They give you nightmares. Let’s watch Smokey and the Bandit.”
“How do you know they give me nightmares?”
Rider dropped his legs to the floor. “I’m getting a beer. You want some juice?”
“Yes, you can get me some after you answer my question.”
“You cry out when you sleep.”
He went to the kitchen, coming back with a glass of juice and his beer.
“So, is Smokey good for you?”
“It’s fine,” she said, distracted by trying to think back to any memories of nightmares. “I really have nightmares?”
“Every night, except for the nights we didn’t watch horror films.”
“I love horror films.”
“I love onions, but they mess with me.”
“Really, that’s why you don’t like onions?”
“Yes. I hate the taste they leave in my mouth,” he said, starting the movie.
“What else do you love to hate?” Jo folded her legs on the couch, sitting cross-legged.
Rider laid the remote on the arm of the couch where she couldn’t reach it. “I love to eat on dishes, but I hate to wash them,” he joked.
“I love working on cars, but I hate waxing them.” Jo got into the game she had started.
“I love buying new boots, but I hate breaking them in.”
“Ouch.” Jo laughed. “I love popcorn, but I hate the kernels.”
“I hate electricians.”
“You’re supposed to say what you love about them in comparison.”
“I don’t love anything about them.” Rider propped his feet back on her coffee table.
“That reminds me. When Shade and I itemized the bills The Last Riders are paying off, the electrician’s bill wasn’t there.”
“I must have forgotten.”
“Don’t worry about it. I called his company and added it to the list Shade has.”
“How did you know the name of the company?”
Jo shook her head in exasperation. “It was printed on the back of his coveralls.”
“Oh. Good thinking.”
“I thought so.” She beamed proudly at him, pleased she had outsmarted him. Not much got past him. “I also had him add in the groceries you had Train bring to the house.”
“How did—”
“I got Train’s number from Shade. And I also had him figure out how many hours he worked when I was sick.”
“What did he say?”
“He told me the amount of the groceries, but then hung me up on me when I asked him about the hours, so I guesstimated them.”
“I bet you did.”
“Are you being sarcastic?”
“What gave you that clue?” Rider turned the volume up on the movie. “Sometimes people want to help without anything in return.”
“And sometimes people don’t like to take handouts.”
“It wasn’t a handout. How long is it going to take you to pay back the loan with everything added in?”
“A few years.”
“More than a few. Will you at least be able to retire before you’re ninety?”
“Yes, The Last Riders offered me a very generous sum for the lease and to work for them.”
“Cool. You want to start work early and get me another beer?”
Jo threw a small pillow at him. “I hope you’re joking.”
“I am. Can I watch my movie now? I love watching movies, but I hate when people talk during them.”
“Jerk.”
They were twenty minutes into the movie when Jo decided she wanted something to nibble on. Going to the fridge, she grabbed two sodas and a bag of popcorn out of the cabinet. Setting one down for Rider, she opened hers, then sat down cross-legged again, opening the popcorn.
“I hate when people get something good to eat, and don’t offer to share.”
She tilted the bag so he could take a handful. “You don’t know when to stop, do you?
”
When he didn’t answer, she looked over, catching him watching her.
“I know when to stop when I want to.”
“Your jokes are as bad as Jackie Gleason’s.” Jo turned the popcorn’s opening back to her. “I have to buy some more of this popcorn.” It was a mixture of cheddar cheese and caramel. The two flavors together were one she had never tried before.
“It’s my favorite. I like sweet and salty.”
About to take a drink of her soda, Jo looked over the top of the can to see him staring at her again. “What?”
Rider gave her a mysterious smile. “Nothing. You in the mood for a pizza? I can order us one.”
Jo groaned out loud. “I love pizza, but I hate my fat ass after I eat it.”
Rider reached out, taking the popcorn bag away from her. “I love fat—”
Jo squealed, bending over on her knees to press a hand to his lips. “Don’t you dare …”
With that mischievous look, Rider stared back at her from over her hand, his shoulders shaking with laughter. Then he reached up, pulling her hand away.
“I was going to say, I love fat … crusted pizza.”
“Really?” She stared at him skeptically.
“What did you think I was going to say?”
“Never mind. I’m sorry I misjudged you.”
“S’all right. Can I have the popcorn back? By the way, your ass looks fine to me.”
27
Every time she felt herself nodding off, she forced her eyes back open. Knowing it was the last night Rider would be staying, Jo hated to go to bed. She wanted it to last.
The damn pizza had done it. She had eaten two slices. Now full and content, her body just wanted to sleep while her mind fought it.
“Jo, go to bed.”
She felt his hand on her shoulder, jerking her awake.
Raising her lids, she saw he had changed the movie.
“What are you watching now?”
“Gumball Rally.”
Jo stood up, stretching. “Good night, Rider.”
“Night, Jo.”
She sleepily made her way to her bedroom door.
“I’m glad you’re feeling much better.”
The sound of his voice as she was about to go into her room had her turning around to face him. A chill went up her back when she saw the way he was looking at her.
“Thank you. I am, too,” she said, not taking her eyes off him until her bedroom door was safely locked behind her.
What in the hell was that? The frantic thought raced around her mind as she paced her bedroom.
Tearing the rubber band out of her hair, she tried to calm herself. Had she imagined the sound of promise in his voice? Or the way he had looked at her, the same way he had the night of the auction?
Taking a steadying breath, she concluded it was her overactive imagination. Meanwhile, her inner voice screamed to barrage herself in her closet.
Reasoning came to her rescue. Rider had been alone with her for almost two weeks and hadn’t done anything to deserve the fear coursing through her body. He had been a gentleman every inch of the way, had found a solution to her problems, and he didn’t want anything in return … so far.
Psyching herself back up, she got ready for bed, dressing in old red flannel pajamas and its matching top.
About to get in bed, she felt the need to go to the bathroom. She tried to ignore it, but she knew she wouldn’t be able to go to sleep until she relieved herself.
“Dammit, I shouldn’t have drunk those sodas.” Padding to the bedroom door, she silently unlocked it, trying to sneak out of her bedroom and into the bathroom without Rider seeing her.
“You’re not asleep yet?” He was standing behind the couch, a beer bottle at his lips.
Her eyes widened when she saw he had removed his shirt and boots, standing only in his jeans that rested on his hips. Her mouth went dry, feeling as if she was trying to talk past a clump of cotton.
“I need to go to the bathroom.” Feeling like an idiot, she fled into the bathroom.
After using it, she didn’t want to go back out, then she grew embarrassed for taking so long.
“Jesus, I am an idiot,” she muttered, washing her hands before exiting.
“Good night again.” This time, she was smart enough not to look at him, her feet flying over the floor to her room.
“Night again.”
His amusement had her wanting to catch another glimpse of him before she shut the door, but she didn’t want to chance it.
She had seen his chest briefly the night he had slept in bed with her, but the sight of him when she wasn’t sick had her wishing for a magic wand to erase the memory. It was the dead of winter; how did he even have that sun-burnished glow? The numerals tatted across his chest had her wondering about the significance to him.
Turning her light off, wide awake, she tossed and turned, trying to get comfortable. Feeling hot, she began to think she was catching the flu again.
Thumping her pillow repeatedly until she was satisfied, she finally settled into a fitful sleep that took her until dawn to finally fall into a deep one.
She was sprawled on her belly with her pillow over her head when she was awoken by the sound of a knock on her door.
“Jo?” Rider’s voice came from the other side of the door.
“Go away. I’m still sleeping,” she mumbled.
“Can I come in?”
“No.”
“Are you okay?”
The sound of his voice beside her bed had her jerking around, rising onto her elbows.
“I didn’t say you could come in!”
“Sorry. I hated to wake you, but I was worried about you.” He pressed his hand to her forehead, checking for a fever.
Jo swatted his hand away. “I’m not sick. I was sleeping.”
“It’s almost one o’clock; I wanted to see if you wanted to eat some lunch.”
“It’s not one.”
“It’s five till.”
“Jesus, I slept like the dead.” Jo pulled the blanket around her. “Get out and I’ll get dressed.”
“Your wish is my command,” he told her, moving away from the bed. “How does a grilled cheese sandwich with tomato soup sound?”
“Like heaven. I’ll be there in a minute.”
When he closed the door, she jumped out of bed, finding a clean pair of jeans and a blue sweater she had bought at the thrift store. She was dressed and in the kitchen as he was sliding the grilled cheese onto a plate for her.
“You cooked; I’ll do the dishes,” she said before taking a bite of the gooey sandwich.
Rider gave her a mug of the tomato soup before sitting down at the table across from her. “I’ll take you up on that.”
“Did Shade get the cameras installed?” she asked, using her tongue to twirl the gooey cheese inside her mouth.
“Yes.” His strangled reply had her looking toward him to see him drinking his soup. “Moon and Train also started filling the garage. Cash wants to get started on expanding Rachel’s area.”
“That’s nice of him. I’m anxious myself to see what cars and bikes you brought,” she said excitedly. “I hated being nosey when I dropped off Killyama’s car.”
“We’ll go when we’re done eating,” he promised.
“Thank you so much, Rider. You’ve helped me so much.” Placing her sandwich back down on the plate, she reached across the table to place her hand on his. “I don’t deserve it after I went along with Aly’s plan. You could have ended up hurt or in jail. I hate myself for agreeing.”
Rider turned his hand over, returning her grasp. “That’s water under the bridge. Forget it. I have.”
“You showed me the last two weeks what you’re made of. I want you to know I consider you a friend. Now, if there is any way I can repay you, I hope you’ll let me know.”
“Depend on it. I’ll remind you of that next time we go out on a joy ride and you won’t let me drive.”
&nbs
p; Jo smiled at him sincerely. “Anytime you want to drive my car, the keys are yours.”
After lunch, they walked to the garage. She looked around for the cameras Shade had installed.
“I don’t see the cameras,” she remarked as Rider raised the metal garage door.
“They’re there.” Rider pointed to three different areas facing the garage.
Jo turned to where he pointed at three different cameras. One was directly behind them that could see the door, one was to the right that would see anyone walking toward it, and the last one was at eye level that could see anyone leaving.
“Shade placed some all along the driveway, too. On the way back to the house, I’ll show you where they are. That way, if you need to move any of the cars or need to disturb any of them for parts, you tell Shade and he can put them somewhere else.”
“I expected them on the side of the door.”
“This gives a clearer picture of their faces and a view of license plates.”
“Are there any inside?” she asked as they walked in.
“Five.” He motioned to the four corners of the garage. They were mounted high on the walls. “There’s also one over here that has an electronic beam that will give an estimate weight and height.”
“Can I turn that one off before I go through the door?”
“No. Relax, the feed goes directly to your new laptop. No one else will see it.”
“That’s reassuring. Wait. I don’t have a new laptop.”
“I must have forgotten to mention it.” Rider went to a workbench, showing her the laptop.
“Am I paying—”
“No, The Last Riders are. The only way Viper would agree to the lease was if he knew our vehicles were safe. This gives him peace of mind.”
“I can understand that.” Jo looked around her garage in appreciation.
Ten motorcycles rested in a neat line. There were also two cars that had Jo giving a drawn-out whistle of lust as she walked closer.
“Who’s are these beauties?”
“Mine.”
“Both of them?”
“Yes.”
Both cars had her itching to drive them. The Bugatti was completely black, and the Ferrari was a steel gray with a white stripe down the hood.
“Where are the keys? Just in case I need to move them.”
“If you need to move them, call me, and I will.”
