by Debra Kayn
"The family is small. Only have my mom, stepdad, and a few cousins floating around the states." He motioned her out of the room and led the way back to the living room. "Mostly, I have the MC."
"MC?"
"Notus Motorcycle Club." He sat down on the couch, pleased when she sat beside him instead of taking the chair across the room. "I've known Thad, Chuck, and Glen my whole life. They're my family."
She cradled the mug in her hand, and half turned toward him. "So, I'm picturing four little boys riding around the 'hood with a clothes pin holding a joker playing card on the spokes of their bicycle tire, making a lot of noise, and pretending they're badass bikers. Those boys grew up to be men, and those men formed Notus Motorcycle Club."
He put his arm over the back of the couch and stretched his legs. "Pretty much. Our love of motorcycles came early, and by the time we were teens, we'd formed the idea of starting a club after we'd consumed too many beers...which I'm sure that's how most clubs started. Then, we got the balls to approach the territorial MC that covers the area and asked for permission to wear our own patch. Looking back, I'm sure we weren't a threat with only five members. We earned their respect, and that's why we ride under the Notus patch and have kept the club exclusive."
"Wait." She leaned closer. "You said, five members. I've only met four."
"Yeah." He drank from his cup. "There's one more of us. Rich, that's his name, took off when we first started riding and has disappeared. We don't know if he's dead or alive, but we hold out hope that he'll return to the club, to us. He's our brother."
She sobered. "Is that why you started searching for missing persons?"
He let his head fall back on the couch. "Sort of. When we were all around twenty years old, Thad's younger sister went missing. She was a year younger than us and also Rich's girlfriend. She was found a week later murdered. Rich left St. John's unable to stay in St. John's after losing the young woman he'd lost. The rest of us started talking about saving others because we'd failed saving Thalia. Her murder, ...hardest damn thing I've gone through."
Clara reached out and took his hand. He exhaled, letting her rub his fingers in comfort. His plans for the day hadn't included telling her his life story, but she'd asked.
"I can't imagine what everyone went through," she said softly.
"Afterward...well, you can't take life for granted." He stroked her hand with his thumb. "It wasn't long, and a teenage boy came up missing in Portland. Without agreeing to it, we all kept our eyes open when we went riding, talked to people we knew, and long story short, we found the kid and returned him to his parents. Instead of an abduction, he'd turned out to be a runaway."
"A happily ever after," she whispered.
"That's what we hope with every case we take on." He brought her hand up and pressed her knuckles against his lips. Her softness filled the pit in his gut. "Lost one yesterday."
"I heard," she said.
"She was practically a baby."
The pain of not returning a child to their parents ate away at him. He couldn't shake the feeling that nothing had ended. The parents would continue to mourn, and the killer was still out there.
"But, you tried," she whispered.
He lowered his arm and kept holding her hand. "I never intended to bring you here to unload on you."
"You haven't unloaded." She squeezed his hand and took a drink of her coffee. "Visiting with you is nice. Being new here, it feels good to get out and socialize. Something I don't take enough time to do, especially since I don't know anyone here, and I like you."
Damn, she was cute. Nobody had ever told him it was nice to visit with him and no woman had ever come right out and said she liked him. In his life, it was easier to pick out a woman who was looking for a good time as the bar was closing. He could have a good time, and then send the woman on her way. Not one of the women who slept with him took the time to share coffee, listen, and be so fucking honest it had him wanting to protect them the way he felt around Clara.
"You fascinate me," he said, finding himself being truthful.
She let go of him and waved her hand in front of her. "That's because I'm a twin. I get it."
"No, it's definitely just you."
She looked away and drank from her coffee mug. His drink had grown colder than he liked and he was content to sit here, looking at her.
"How about we go out to the garage, wrestle up a couple folding chairs, and take them to the backyard?" He took her empty cup from her. "You can enjoy the sunshine before I have to take you back to Vavoom's. Since I've talked long enough, you can tell me how you decided to move to St. John's and buy a bar with your sister."
"I'd love to go sit in the yard," she said, following him.
In the garage, he turned on the light. Clara gasped behind him, and he chuckled, knowing what took her by surprise. Not many people besides Notus MC members and those who partied with them came into his garage. The room was more a mix of a living room, office, and garage mixed together with some girly pictures framed on the walls, extra bike parts stacked on the desk, a map of St. John's, and filing cabinets. For as long as he remembered, the garage never housed a car. It was the catch-all room when his mom owned the house which meant she could keep the main part of the house clean. He'd carried on the tradition.
He found two lawn chairs and carried them out the back door, setting them on the grass so they could have the sun on their faces. Clara sat down and sighed in pleasure. That got his attention.
"That's it. One day a week, I'm going to sneak over here and plant myself in your backyard." She kicked off her shoes, peeled off her socks, and put her feet in the grass. "I'll buy a bell to have on me, so when I ring it, you'll know when to bring me a lemonade. Two rings mean I'd want a cold beer."
"I've never seen you drink," he said.
"That's because I'm always working when you see me." She wiggled her toes. "I love the feel of grass on my feet. If I were you, I'd start every morning walking barefooted out of the house and feel the dew on my skin."
He grunted. "Never have done it."
"You should." She grinned. "It's one of life's little pleasures."
He clasped his hands behind his head and stretched out his legs. The tops of his thighs were already getting warm through his jeans from the sun. "So, tell me how you came to St. John's and opened the bar. I don't think any of the customers even knew it was for sale until you showed up redecorating the place."
"In time, we hope the changes are for the better. I know it's unsettling for the regulars as they adjust to us and their environment being different." She pushed her short sleeves up to her shoulders. "I'll give you the short version of how it all happened. My dad died a couple of years ago from a brain aneurysm and shortly after we found out he had a safety deposit box in St. John's. So, we traveled to Oregon and found out he wanted to be buried by my mom, who was buried at the cemetery here in St. John's. We then brought his ashes here. During our stay, Gracie was reading some entrepreneur paper and found an ad for Vavoom's. My sister called the number in the paper, and we walked through the bar, then went back to Bozeman—that's where we lived. We never really gave buying the bar much consideration beyond talking to each other about how fun it would be to own a bar while we're still young to enjoy the crowd."
"But, you bought it. You must've changed your minds," he said.
"Only a hundred times. It was a hard decision. Our dad left us a life insurance policy, knowing when he was gone, it would just be the two of us."
"How old were you when you lost your mom?"
"Gracie and I were five years old, so twenty-four years ago."
"You lost both your parents too young," he said.
"Yeah. Dad was great as a single parent, and it was hard to lose him so suddenly without being able to tell him..." Clara shook her head as if she'd said too much.
"Yeah, losing someone you love is rough," he said.
"It took Gracie and me two years and a lot of fighting, tears, a
nd healing to get to the point where we could agree on what to use the money on to secure our futures. Luckily, when we called to see if the bar had sold, it was still available, but off the market. We made an offer that was accepted, and now we're business owners for the first time and learning as we go."
"Enjoying it so far?"
"Yeah." She slumped down in the chair and laid her head on the back. "I think it'll get easier once we know the customers and figure out what they expect. Our cook, Paxton, is awesome. We were lucky to find him...or he found us, I guess."
"The food is better than it was," he said.
"That's really good to hear." She turned her head and her smile slowly faded. "What?"
He'd been studying her, knowing she'd relaxed while she'd talked about her family and being outside where she enjoyed herself. He was no good at going slow or asking a woman out on a date. His life didn't exactly mesh with hers. But, he was damn sure not going to give up on knowing her better.
"Just enjoying the view," he said.
He wanted her. It was only a matter of convincing her that she wanted him.
Clara leaned forward and reached into her back pocket. "I guess I left my phone in my purse. I wanted to check the time. I shouldn't leave Gracie to do all the work today."
He pulled out his phone and looked at the screen. "It's almost one o'clock. I can run you back to the bar."
"Wow, we talked a lot. I had no idea how much time had gone by. It seems like I just arrived." She stood. "I should get back. The bar opens in an hour."
He left the chairs in the yard and took her back to the house where she picked up her purse. Disappointed that their time was over so fast, he was reluctant to call the day over.
The ride through town ended at the bar. Taking Clara's directions, he went down the alley and stopped by the back door and cut the engine. She hopped off the bike and kissed his cheek.
"Thanks for inviting me over. I enjoyed myself," she said.
If she would've kissed his lips, it wouldn't have been as sweet as the first time her lips touched his cheek. He latched on to her hand and pulled her close until her breasts brushed his shoulder.
"Come back and spend the night with me after you close the bar," he said.
She laughed until he recognized the moment she took him seriously and grew quiet. "I don't know if that would be a smart thing to do."
"We enjoy each other. That doesn't have to stop." He looked down at her slim fingers in his hand. "Think it over. I'll swing by tonight."
She nodded, letting go of him.
"Clara?" he said, stopping her. "Thanks."
She tilted her head. "For what?"
"For being with me today."
Her eyes softened, and she smiled before walking through the back door. He started his motorcycle and rode home. He had a purpose now to go to sleep. He would be there when the bar closed at two o'clock in the morning, and she would come home with him.
Chapter 7
Gracie marched around the corner of the counter in Vavoom's. Clara pushed the napkins into the dispenser on the table and watched her sister move around the room as if trying to break a speed walking record. Once she told Gracie about her invite to spend the night with Wayne, her sister had grown more agitated, barely saying two words to her throughout the afternoon and evening.
Clara stepped into Gracie's path, grabbed her sister's wrist, and walked her behind the counter. The pressure from her fingers came from desperation and her strength from irritation.
"Just talk to me," Clara said on a hiss. "Tell me exactly how I went wrong. We wanted to get closer to the bikers."
Gracie stiffened her arm and pulled from her grasp. Then, she leaned closer. "Nothing we discussed included prostituting yourself to one of the Notus Motorcycle Club members."
"Sh." Clara glanced around at the crowd in Vavoom's and finding it safe to talk continued. "God, why would you say that? I'm not planning on screwing him because we need his help."
Gracie raised her brows. "Aren't you?"
Wayne wanted her to spend the night with him. He'd shown up at the bar one hour before closing and sat at a booth with a couple that he obviously knew going by the friendly conversation. Until he'd walked in the bar, alone, without his club, Clara had tried to believe he'd only been flirting with her when he invited her over to his house.
She never thought he'd follow through.
Nothing about his personality or his actions suggested he was a player. He led a serious life, dealing with serious shit. He had no time for screwing around with her. Through the night, she'd realized that Wayne would never throw out a flippant comment or offer.
Now she had to face reality. Wayne expected her to go to his house when they closed the bar. It wasn't the right time for her to be wavering on what to do. She either went home with him or she stopped any kind of relationship with him tonight, jeopardizing her and Gracie's plan.
"No. I'm not planning on having sex with him to make sure he helps us." She lowered her voice. "If I decide to have sex, it's because I like him."
"Aw, sis." Gracie lowered her chin and closed her eyes a moment too long, taking the information in.
Clara looked across the room. "I never planned to be attracted to him."
Gracie raised her gaze to Clara. "Do you think that's a smart thing to do considering what we need him for?"
"I don't know." Clara inhaled deeply. "I just don't know what the right thing to do is anymore because I want to spend more time with him."
"Think of all the consequences. Can you keep seeing Wayne knowing what we plan to do? Think about that. You know I support you, but you'll be the one who ends up hurt." Gracie's shoulders straightened. "I need to help a customer."
Alone with her confusion, Clara carried the bin of dirty dishes back to the kitchen. Paxton had left an hour ago. The industrial size dishwasher was empty. She quickly rinsed the plates and added the mugs, tumblers, and silverware to their proper place. There were only a few dishes left out in the bar to add and then the cycle could run. If she left work with Wayne, she wouldn't be putting too much work on Gracie.
She returned to the bar. Two groups from her side of the room were making a move to leave. She walked over to the cash register as they approached. Studying each customer, she quickly noticed the man with his keys in his hand swayed and had trouble standing still.
The woman with him struggled to walk a straight line in her high heels and dig in her purse at the same time. The couple that sat at the same table with the inebriated duo approached the counter.
"I hope you enjoyed your visit." Clara smiled and took the credit card from the man. "Did you all come together?"
"Yeah." The man grinned. "We're celebrating a long-deserved promotion at work."
"Congratulations." She turned the card reader around for him to sign. "It looks like your friend is prepared to drive, but he's too drunk to get behind the wheel. I can call a taxi or Uber for him."
The man glanced behind him and laughed at his friend trying to hold up a conversation with the people at the closest table. He turned back around. "My girlfriend can drive us."
His girlfriend leaned forward. "I've only had two drinks."
Having served everyone's drinks, she already was aware of how much everyone drank. What she had to guess at was how the customers handled their liquor. She'd seen the same level of drunkenness in people who drank two beers and yet there were men who drank four shots of hard liquor who could walk a straight line and quote bible scriptures as if they'd walked out of church on Sunday.
"Why don't you go ahead and get the keys from your friend before you walk out the door. That way I feel better about our customers arriving safely at home." Clara handed the man the receipt. "We want you to drive safe, so you can return."
"No problem." The man walked over and grabbed the keys out of his friend's hand and tossed them to his girlfriend.
Clara looked for Gracie and found her collecting tips off the tables and talking wit
h two men who were heading toward the door to leave. Her stomach flipped. The only customer not preparing to leave sat at a table, nursing a Coke, intent on seduction.
Not that Wayne had done anything inappropriate while she'd worked. She opened the cash register and removed the drawer. It was the way he took possession of her. She counted the money. No, it was the way she'd let him possess her. If she walked across the room, she walked for him. When she laughed at a customer, she was laughing so Wayne could hear her. She moved through the bar, wanting him to be aware of her body. He'd made her do all those things without saying a word or lifting a finger.
She shivered, and her handful of money went to her side on a groan. She'd lost track of the count. Was it thirty-five or thirty?
"Go ahead and leave." Gracie stopped in front of her. "I'll close out the drawer."
Clara glanced at Wayne. "You're sure?"
"We'll deal with whatever happens afterward." Gracie leaned against the counter. "Go and enjoy yourself."
Her sister's change of opinion and lack of discussion only made her second-guess her decision. Once she slept with Wayne, the whole dynamics of their relationship would go in a direction they never planned for. A one night stand would hurt the progress she'd made. Their flirting kept Wayne coming back to the bar. Her selfish reasons to have sex with him could cause him to lose interest and stop coming to the bar.
Or, it could be something wonderful and work toward their advantage.
Never in her life had she ever thought her skills or lack of skills at fucking would mean so much.
"Okay," she whispered. "But, I'm staying here until you're ready to leave and then I'll walk you to the car. It's not safe to leave by yourself with the money bag on you."
Gracie nodded. "I'll hurry and load the dishwasher. The tables are wiped down, and I locked the front door. Finish counting the money, and I'll be quick as I can be."
She nodded and piled the money back in one stack to start over. "Thanks, Gracie."
Her sister reached across the counter and squeezed Clara's hand. "We're sisters."
"Twins," said Clara.
