Cold reasoning doesn't work today.
My mother must never know. If she finds out, it will push her over the edge. She's so fragile, I'm not sure I'm going to be strong enough to keep her together.
But what if Everest was right? What if David's captain was really sweet on her? Now that I'm wrapping my mind around the concept, I see my mother in a totally different light. Objectively, she's really okay. How old is she anyway? Fifty-five or fifty-six. When I was a teenager, I used to see her as ancient. Some of my law professors and some partners I interviewed with were probably older than she is, and I never thought for a second that their lives were over. I know they had rich professional lives, and I'm pretty sure their private lives were active as well, so why did I look on my mother differently?
It isn't hard to picture my mother and Captain Williams together since he was by her side most of the day. He's big and protective; he would surely make her feel safe. I play with the idea, seeing them sitting side by side on the swing and holding hands, maybe kissing, walking down the aisle in church. In my overactive imagination, she's wearing a pearl-colored dress and he's in his dress uniform, just like today. She looks delightfully happy.
Concentrating on that image, I go to bed with a smile on my face.
CHAPTER NINE
Everest was right. The week following the funeral, Captain "please do call me Steven" Williams comes around several times to our house. Officially, he's making sure my mother does the paperwork just right so she gets all the benefits she's entitled to since David died on the job.
Without Everest's warning, my normal reaction would have been to tell him that if I managed to get into one of the top law schools in the country, filling out their stupid paperwork shouldn't be a problem. But because I've been told, I play the helpless dumb blonde. I thank him profusely for helping my mother and let them both sit down side by side at the dinner table with the paperwork. I serve them iced tea and make myself scarce. He stays for a couple of hours, but they're not finished when he leaves.
The funny thing is that now I hardly recognize my mother—she's all chirpy, almost cheerful. I kept pinching myself to make sure I'm not dreaming.
Of course, the second she went to bed after his first visit, I returned to being my normal control-freak self and looked at the forms. There was nothing complicated about them, and yet they had only gone through one of the three pages.
Yeah, he's definitely into her, and the coolest thing is that she's into him, as well.
So much so that she's agreed to go out with him.
"Don't be silly, dear. It's not a date. I'm just accompanying him to a police social function," she tells me as she gets ready.
"Absolutely." What I really wanted to say was, Of course it's not a date, and it's true you're still wearing black. Black is black, but there's mourning black and sexy black.
I see her off, and I'm sitting on the porch swing reading a book when Everest arrives. I'm cooking dinner for him tonight and afterward he will help me decide what to do with my brother's two bikes. He'll check to see if they need any repairs first. The one David was riding the day he died was just released from evidence by the police. The cross-country one is much lighter, and I'm thinking about keeping it for myself.
Everest is all smiles, and I remember David's stupid biker joke.
"How do you recognize a happy biker?" I ask.
"All the dead bugs on his front teeth," Everest answers, and he laughs. "That's gross but close to home. I've eaten more bugs that I care to think about."
He kicks his bike stand down and opens a saddlebag.
"My confidential informant told me you like white wine, so I got a bottle," he says. "I'm a beer drinker myself, but the sales lady said Muscadet was good."
"Oh, I love Muscadet. Really, I do. I didn't know anything about wine either when I left for New York, and then I found this job in a good restaurant where the owner gives all her staff a basic lesson about which wine goes with what type of food, and then made us do a blind tasting. That was fun. I'm no connoisseur, but I do really like this one. It's great with fish, and it needs to be served chilled…"
I ramble on as I finish preparing dinner. I tell him about Lyv and the people in the restaurant and how it was so convenient because it was close to my dorm. When we sit down to eat, he's wearing an ear-to-ear grin.
"What's funny?" I ask.
"Now I know what it's like when you're really spilling your guts," he says. "So, the other day, that really was you being quiet."
I laugh. He's right. I'm very talkative, and maybe more than usual tonight because I'm nervous. I like him, and I would like him to stick around a bit, but then again I don't want him to get the wrong idea. I do enjoy his company, but I'm not on the market for a boyfriend. David's death has left me too raw emotionally to consider getting into a relationship. And then there's Brian. I'm not sure what the deal is with him, so I try very hard not to think about it, which takes a lot of work. The truth is that it's an impossible task because there's not a single corner of this house that I don't associate with a memory of David and him.
I don't know how to tell Everest that if this is going anywhere, I'd like to take it really slowly. Perhaps there's no need to tell him anything—he could just want a friend, or a harmless no-promises-let's-just-have-fun fling. I stop talking.
"Stop fretting," he says. "You're safe with me. Tonight it's just dinner, and then maybe a little ride on the beach and possibly some light kissing."
"Do I look nervous?" I ask as I flush. The heat on my cheeks is overwhelming.
"No. Don't worry, you're not an open book to me… yet." He takes a drink from his glass and keeps on studying my face. "This is what I'm good at. I read people."
I raise my eyebrows.
"There are little gestures you're making that show you're not totally comfortable around me, which doesn't offend me since we barely know each other. But at the same time, you're also being very open, and telling me a lot about yourself, which means you've decided I'm somehow trustworthy. So I think you like me, but you don't want to be rushed into anything because there's been too much upheaval in your life lately."
I nod. He's drawing a pretty accurate picture.
"Did you leave someone behind in New York?" he asks.
"Nope. The only exciting things I've taken to bed with me for the past few years have been romance novels. What about you? Do you have someone in your life?"
"I've been a free agent for a while, but before that, I dated a girl for a couple of years. For a while I thought she was the girl."
"What happened to make you realize she wasn't?"
"I decided that my psychology degree would be put to better use if I became a cop instead of a therapist, and she dumped me." He doesn't sound bitter, just a bit sad.
"What's wrong with being a cop?" I ask.
"Officially, the danger. I think the truth was that she had issues with the social status and the pay. A few months after we split, she married some doctor," he says.
"If she really dumped you because of the pay, then you're better off without her," I say.
"Funny, that's word for word what my mother told me." He's clearly amused.
"A very wise woman, your mother."
We finish eating, and he helps me clear the table.
CHAPTER TEN
I leave all the dirty dishes in the kitchen for later, and we go to the garage, turn on the lights, and open the garage door to look at David's bikes. Everest tinkers with the big machine that just came back, and then he rolls it out of the garage and takes it for a ride around the block.
While I wait for him to return, a pack of bikers ride by. It's not unusual, since my street links two main roads, yet they startle me. Suddenly, I feel very vulnerable. I'm alone in the house, and the glaring lights of David's workshop make it impossible for me to see outside while making me a perfect target. It seems as though they're slowing down as they drive by the house, but it may just be my overactive imagin
ation.
I shrug the uneasiness away. I've got to get a grip on myself.
Soon enough, Everest returns from his short test ride.
"It's in perfect condition," he says as he wheels the monster back in. "I can tell your brother took real good care of it, but I agree—it's too heavy for you."
He turns around to look at the other machine, higher and leaner, the one David taught me on, the one he never meant for me to ride alone. He taught me because he believed it was one of those things I should learn how to do, even if I never got any real use from it. At the time, he probably thought either Brian or he was going to be around forever to take me places.
Before he removes his helmet, I grab mine and get on the lighter bike.
"Come on, I'll take you for a ride," I say as I kick the machine to life.
The look on his face is priceless. There's so many different expressions colliding, but what remains in the end are surprise and amusement. He doesn't falter—he climbs on behind me, and I can't decide if he's brave, suicidal, or just a trusting soul. There's no tension in his body as he wraps his arms around my waist.
We roll down the street toward the beach, and I'm having more fun than I have in a long time. I love this feeling of freedom, but right now it's all about more physical sensations. There's the blissful state I get into after a glass of wine, the vibration of the engine between my legs, and then Everest's strong body against my back and his hand on my stomach… wow. This is getting distracting. I concentrate on the driving as we reach the sand, and I ride all the way to the pier, where I can lean the machine against one of the posts.
As Everest shifts his body to get off the bike, I realize this has been distracting for him as well. We remove our helmets and sit together on the sand. The swash of the waves is relaxing, and the moon is bright enough to let me study his profile as he looks at the ocean.
"That was interesting," he says with a sheepish smile. "I had never ridden behind a woman before."
"How is it different?" I blurt out before my brain engages. Oh, right, his dick, my butt, the vibrations… He turns to look at me and laughs. I turn a nice shade of crimson, I'm sure. "Forget I asked."
We both lie back on the sand, look at the stars, and stay silent for a while.
"Are you gonna get the bastards who killed my brother?" I ask.
He reaches out for my hand before he answers.
"Surely you know I can't talk about an open case."
"I understand that, and I don't want details. Really, I don't. I just want to know that you guys are doing what you can to make sure it doesn't happen again."
And then I bait him to find out if there's any truth to my suspicion that the "organized crime group" the task force is working on is the MC. I say, "It would be nice if you cleared the street of those Iron Tornadoes."
"Someone's been talking out of turn," he says, falling right into my trap. He turns on his side to face me and asks, "Who have you been speaking with?"
I glance sideways in his direction, and he does look annoyed. But no one but him can really be blamed for my putting two and two together. Captain Williams just said something about a task force against organized crime. Mike simply mentioned the irony of applying for that task force just before joining the MC. Without Everest's reaction, I would only have my suspicions, but there's no way I'm telling him that.
I decide the only way out of this one is to distract him, so I roll onto my side, facing Everest. I'm slightly buzzed. It's probably more the adrenaline rush from the ride than the wine. But who knows what's prompting me? I go for provocative distraction.
"Didn't you mention something about some light kissing, earlier?"
That wipes the frown from his face. He grins and says, "I sure did."
"The setting's perfect—you have the ocean, the half moon, and…"
He didn't need that much prompting because he's moved over to me, and he's sweetly covering my lips with his. He nibbles gently on my lower lip until I open up to him, and when I do, I'm pretty sure we're past the point of light kissing.
I get a warm and fuzzy feeling. It's sweet and nice and delicious. I’m not fired up but I feel a warm glow and I like it. He makes me feel safe, and right now, safe sounds like just what I need.
He wraps his arms around me and rolls to his back, bringing me with him. My head rests on his chest and he says, "You did sidetrack me for a while, but I haven't forgotten my question, you know."
I chuckle. "I'm not giving up my sources. I'll just tell you that I tricked someone into telling me what the task force was about. I don't want him to get into trouble, so I won't tell you any more than that."
"I'll find a way to figure it out," he says.
"No, you won't. I spoke to most of your colleagues after the funeral, so there's no way you can tell who spilled the beans," I say, hoping to get him as far away from Mike as possible since he returned to the station right after the funeral.
"We'll see about that," he says, and now I realize that he's going to make it a matter of principle to find the loose tongue in his group.
"What do you say we head back?" I ask. "And if you want, I'll even let you drive."
The ride back home is a lot smoother, but then he rides every day, and I was out of practice. Well, that's my excuse for tonight. I'll need another one for the next time—if there is a next time.
We reach the house at the same time as my mother and Captain Williams. There's an awkward moment as both men greet each other and then make a run for it.
My mother tells me she's very tired and wants to crash. This is so far past her bedtime; I never would have expected she'd stay out so late and not complain. I say goodnight and close the garage door.
I'm kind of wired, and I know I won't be able to sleep if I go to bed now, but I have just the right thing to keep me occupied: I still have the kitchen to clean up.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
My mother’s a light sleeper when she’s not drugged, so I keep the radio on low and try to make as little noise as possible as I load the dishwasher and clean up the pots. I need to take out the trash and I'll be done. Dragging the container to the street is a pain. I make sure the lid is well secured, otherwise the raccoons will come and pry it open. As I turn around, I see Aunt Nancy taking her own cans out, and I walk over to help her.
"How are you doing, Lisa?" she asks.
"I'm just fine. What about you?"
"I'm okay," she says, but her expression contradicts her words.
She's upset about Brian. I'm pretty sure most of our nice neighbors are wondering why Brian didn't attend David's funeral, and even if none of them had the nerve to ask her to her face, she's annoyed by all the gossip going around. It seems it's also taking a toll on her relationship with Uncle Tony. I don't know what to tell her, so I just hug her and say goodnight.
I return to the back door, and the light is off in the kitchen. Weird. I thought I had left it on, as I was only going out for a minute. I reach for the light switch, and Brian grabs my hand and tugs me inside.
I don't scream, because I know it's him the second he touches me. He holds me close to him and puts a finger on my lips. We wait until we hear his mother close her door behind her, and then he closes my door and takes me further into the room where we can't be seen by anyone. He's still holding me close to him, and I don't push him away. Just being next to him gets my heart racing.
"What are you doing here?" I ask, looking up at him.
"Checking on you," he says as he pushes my hair away from my face, and I can't help but relish the tender gesture.
I reach out to his face and touch the stubble on his jaw line with the tips of my fingers. All my questions start pouring out, "What happened to you? Why did you quit the academy? What went so wrong between you and David that you wouldn't even come to his funeral? What are you doing with your life?"
"Just shut up, counselor," he says, and he kisses me.
The idea of resisting crosses my mind, but when it does it
's chased by this vision of all those ridiculous old movies scenes in which the girl ineffectively pummels the hero with her tiny fist until she surrenders to the guy's kiss. I decide to save myself the embarrassment and skip the pummeling part.
As I thread my fingers through his hair I lose all sense of time and get lost in the moment, and when we come up for air, I beg him, "Please Brian—talk to me."
He presses my head against his chest and sighs, "This was a terrible idea."
He starts to push me away, and I grab a handful of his T-shirt to hold him back and whisper-shout at him.
"Oh no. You're not doing this to me again. You can't barge in here, kiss me as if you were crazy about me, and then walk out."
He laughs and starts to walk out the kitchen door.
"Brian Hatcher, I swear this is the last time you're doing this to me."
"Whatever you say, sweet butt," he says as he just walks out.
This time I have nothing to hurl at him, which is just as well since I'm in no mood to mop the kitchen floor—unless it were covered in blood, preferably his.
I walk up to my room in a really foul mood. What has Brian turned into? A bastard and a tease. So what's wrong with me? I'm sitting on my bed, ready to hit my head against the wall, when the door opens. My mother's in her bathrobe with her hair loose from the bun she jails it in every day. For a second I see the young woman she was when she was my age.
"What's up, Mom?" I ask.
"I couldn't sleep, and I heard you come up. I thought we could talk," she says tentatively.
I scoot to the foot of my bed and pat the mattress, inviting her to come sit next to me.
"Sure. What do you want to talk about? A charming police captain?"
It's funny how she blushes. Yet she sits down on the bed, puts her arm around my shoulder and pulls my head to her lap. I rest my cheek on her thigh and try to remember how many years it's been since she's done that. It conjures memories of early childhood, when she would read bedtime stories to me a life time ago.
Stone Cold (An Iron Tornadoes MC Romance) Page 4
