“The guys will be here with the furniture soon.” I cleared my throat and tried to sound normal. “It’s gonna get noisy.”
“Right.” She nodded. She knew I was looking. “I’ll stay out of your way.” She darted into her room, leaving a perfume-y, soapy scent lingering in the hall. I groaned. Living under the same roof with her was going to be damn difficult.
I needed to stay the fuck away from her. After seeing her dazed expression when I took off my shirt, I was pretty sure she was into me. Or at least my chest. She may be hot, but I was her employer. I needed to be professional at all times. I didn’t want to put her into a position where she’d be uncomfortable.
The position of boss was new for me. Tate put me in charge of the three prospects, but that was a lot different than employing a home health-care worker. I guess, honestly, Nana was her employer. It was Nana who was paying her bills, not me. But I still lived in this house so I needed to toe the line and keep my eyes and hands to myself.
The prospects Roach, Crash, and Grinder were on their way over. Besides working at the garage, their other job was whatever the hell I wanted. Today, they were moving all my new stuff over from the storage unit.
Roach pounded on the door at exactly ten in the morning.
“Hey, man, we got your shit.” He grinned. “What are we doing first?”
“I guess just start unloading and we’ll decide as we go.” I put on my cut and went out to meet the moving van.
I’d been living on a friend’s couch before I moved to the clubhouse. The clubhouse was a bit like a fucking frat house. Bed, dresser, the basics were all provided. I’d never really had my own place before.
Unloading all my new shit without a plan proved to be kind of a poor idea. We ended up with a bunch of stuff scattered everywhere.
“Where do you want this chair?” Crash asked as he and Grinder maneuvered a brown recliner through the front door.
“Well, by the television,” I said, following the guys in the house. “But there’s not much room left.”
“If you put the television at an angle on the corner, you could fit both the couch and the recliner in pretty easily.”
We all turned toward a feminine voice—Jo’s. Wearing a tank top and a pair of faded jeans, she looked amazing. Tall and lithe, she could easily be a calendar girl.
“Guys, this is Nana’s home health assistant, Jo. She’ll be staying with us,” I explained. The guys were looking at me for some guidance. I hadn’t really considered that Jo would meet up with the guys from the club. “Jo, these are my friends, Roach and Grinder. Crash is around here somewhere.”
“Hi, I’m Roach.” He stuck out his hand for a shake and the recliner tipped.
“Hey, asshole,” Grinder bitched. “Pick up your end. Flirt later.”
Roach smiled his trademark crooked smile and Jo smiled back.
Dammit.
“All right,” I barked. Roach jumped. Good, it made him stop grinning at Jo. “Do what she said. Put the TV at an angle and put the recliner over there.”
After that, Jo was the one determining where the furniture would go. I’d bought a few pictures too, flowers and stuff I thought my grandma would like. Jo instructed us on where to put those as well. At the end of the day, the place was starting to look like a proper home.
Once everything was moved in and set up, we all sat down to pizza and beer in the living room. I collapsed in the recliner and the guys lined up on the couch. Jo walked in with a slice of pizza on her plate and looked around. I started to get up when Roach opened his mouth.
“Have my spot on the couch, Jo.” He got up and sat on the floor, leaving the end of the couch empty for her.
I glared at him. That should have been me. I should have offered her a seat faster, like a gentleman and shit.
“Thanks. So, are you guys part of the Demon Horde too?” she asked. “You all wear black vests, but only Clint’s has the picture on the back.”
The prospects went silent and left me to answer her question. Good move on their part. We didn’t share too much with outsiders and she’d obviously heard something. Seeing as how Jo would be living with me, she had to know a little bit.
“The guys are part of the motorcycle club too,” I explained, then I gave her the standard line. “We all share the same interest in Harley-Davidsons. We talk about fixing them, restoring them, stuff like that. They’re prospects, not full members yet. I get to wear the patch because I’m a full member.”
“So, it’s just for fun?” she asked. “With the tattoos and all, you guys look like you could be in an outlaw gang.”
I wondered if she was thinking of me shirtless in the driveway. She’d liked the view. Fuck. I needed to stop thinking about her like that.
“We’re not like those guys,” I promised.
Crash choked on beer and stared at me with wide eyes. Not all of the club’s businesses were above board. Some might even call us a criminal group, but she didn’t need to know that.
For the most part we were pretty tame. We didn’t run guns, we didn’t do drugs. We might have a little illegal import business for the Seattle tech crowd, and we might launder some money with the help of the local tribal casino, but it wasn’t anything dangerous.
“Hey, did you hear that Russ’ dog had pups?” Roach asked, jumping in to change the subject. We’d need to be more careful around Jo. She was an outsider. “You gonna get one now that you have a place with a yard and a fence?”
“I hadn’t thought about it.” I turned to Jo. “What do you think? Would you like a dog? They’re boxers.”
She shrugged and sipped on her soda. “I’m sure I’d be fine with whatever you decide. But a large dog might be able to knock over Mrs. Remmick and that wouldn’t be safe.”
“Jo must be more of a cat person,” Crash teased.
“I’ve never had a pet.” She looked at the guys and then back to me. “My dad was in the military and we moved around a lot. When I was a kid we never stayed in one place long enough for a pet. What about you guys? Where did you grow up?”
I tuned out as the prospects told her about their hometowns. We finished our pizza and Jo disappeared back in her room. The prospects went to return the moving truck. I needed to go out to the new shop we had rented and get things squared away. Tomorrow was our opening day and I wanted to make sure everything was stowed and looked clean for customers.
I lurked in the hallway outside her room. I should say goodbye. I raised my hand to knock, but she opened the door before I could. I’d been caught—she knew I’d been there.
“Do you need something?” she asked. Her voice wavered a little, like maybe she was a little scared to talk to me. She’d been more at home with the prospects than she was with me and I didn’t like that. I wanted things to be easy between us. We were going to be living together, after all.
“I’m sorry about before, when you were coming out of the shower,” I said, holding her gaze. “I’m not used to living with a woman in the house. I wanted to tell you that I won’t make you uncomfortable again.”
“Thanks, I appreciate that.” She crossed her arms and leaned against the doorjamb. “Most of my clients are elderly and their family is older, so this is a little new to me too.”
“I’d like to be friends.” I held out my hand for a handshake. Her hand was warm and soft, and so was her smile.
Time stopped. I rubbed my thumb across her knuckle.
Shit. I remembered that I needed to keep eye contact, so she wouldn’t think I was looking at her tits. Snatching my hand back, I looked up—just in time to see her catch her breath. Her lips parted, and she made a little gasping noise. Fuck. I’d taken this handshake a little too far.
“I’ll probably be working late.” I realized that she probably didn’t give a shit about my schedule. “Nana gets in tomorrow morning. You’re on your own f
or dinner.”
“I’ve got class tonight,” she explained. “So I’ll just see you and Mrs. Remmick in the morning.” She turned to go back to her room and I realized I wouldn’t see her again for hours and that made me fucking stupid, so I said the first thing that came into my head.
“I’m in the room next to yours, if you need anything—for Nana,” I clarified.
Shit. If she needed anything? Like what? A good solid fuck. I had to get my brain out of the gutter. Between her questions about the club and my completely inappropriate attraction to her, this was a powder keg.
“Nana will be in the master and I’m going to work.” I nodded to her and left. I didn’t look back as I left the house. I would just need to throw myself into the new shop. That would be the best solution.
* * *
When I got to the garage, there was a message light blinking on the voicemail. It was Tate—he wanted to talk in person. I got the guys started on their projects for the day and then headed over to the clubhouse.
“Hey,” I said, meeting him in his office in the back of the building. “What’s up?”
“Well...” Tate frowned. “Remember how the Horde was gonna split your initial payment into two chunks?”
“Yeah, I guess.” Tate had explained how the loan would work when I got back from seeing Nana in the hospital. I got the first half of the loan already for the setup of the shop. “They still have about thirty-five grand they need to get to us, right? I had planned that for a couple of hydraulic lift bays.”
“Yeah, they still owe the thirty-five Gs. Volk called me yesterday. He wants you to go down to Cali to pick it up,” Tate explained. “Said they got an investigation going on and don’t want to send that much money through wire transfer.”
“Oh yeah, sure. I can just put it in my saddlebags or something.” A quick run to Southern California would be easy shit. “When should I go?”
“Volk suggested two weeks.” Tate pulled a calendar off the wall and we agreed on a date. “You sure this is okay? You got a lot of commitments at home.” He lifted an eyebrow.
Fuck. I got it. This was a test. He and Volk probably wanted to see where my loyalties stood.
“Yeah.” I shrugged. “I got it handled. I can still serve the club. Don’t you worry about me.”
Tate broke into a huge grin. “Knew I could count on you. Call the old ladies if you need any help.”
Right, I’d forgotten about them. A couple of the guys had hooked up lately and Tate had been married for a while. Often the women pitched in and helped out.
“I’ll be sure to let you know.” I shook his hand. “I got it handled, though.”
As soon as I was clear of Tate’s office, I picked up my cell phone and dialed.
“Hey, Mom?” I said as soon as she picked up. “I need you to help babysit Nana in a few weeks.”
Chapter Five
Jo
After three weeks Mrs. Remmick—she told me to just call her Nana—and I had settled into a comfortable routine. Mornings were breakfast and physical therapy, sometimes with a dialysis appointment. Afternoons were lunch, a couple hands of cards, and an episode of General Hospital. Nana would take a nap and I would get some studying done.
Clint would leave wads of cash on the counter for groceries and anything else we needed. Otherwise, I barely even knew he lived there. He would come home late at night or sometimes not at all. On my nights off, he would spend time with Nana, but he didn’t say much to me.
Not that I was expecting him to say anything. It was probably one of the best setups I’d ever had in this line of work. I didn’t need Clint to say much. I wasn’t disappointed at all if he pretty much ignored me.
I frowned at my cards. Nana was a wicked gin player. I was going to lose yet another hand.
“One more game, dear?” she asked innocently, setting down her winning cards. “Or do you need to study?”
“I should study. Besides—” I laughed “—my pride can’t stand losing to you again.”
Nana shuffled the cards and looked smug. “I saw the circular in the mail the other day from the senior center,” she mentioned. “They have a gin game every other Thursday.”
“Really?” I took our iced tea glasses to the sink and ran through Nana’s schedule in my head. “Well, that wouldn’t interfere with dialysis. I’m sure we can give it a try one day.”
“How about tomorrow?” She innocently put away the cards. As if she hadn’t been planning this all along.
“Sure, we can go tomorrow,” I agreed as I helped her out of the kitchen chair. I walked Nana to her recliner and found the remote. She’d be asleep before her show ever started. I smiled. I’d bet that Nana hadn’t watched an entire episode of General Hospital in years.
Setting up my books and notes on the kitchen table, I kept glancing at the fridge. Every morning, I got up and ran to the kitchen. Clint would leave me notes about his schedule with a special motorcycle magnet just above the ice dispenser. I told myself that I needed to plan my day, but really I just wanted to see his messy handwriting, read his message to me. Most of the time it was something like, Be home past ten. One day he said, Got a hot job, sleeping at the shop tonight. I wondered if that was true. Was he really sleeping at his garage, or did he stay with a woman? Not that I cared one way or the other. I only kept them because they had details about his schedule. No other reason, I told myself.
I found the piece of mail from the senior center and looked at the entry for the gin game. I could take her and sit with her until I had to leave for school. But Clint would have to pick her up and bring her home. I had class that night and the senior center was on the other side of town. It was my turn to write a note.
Gin game at senior center. Can you meet us at six? I have to leave for class.
I wondered what would happen if I wrote him something funny, or personal. I threw the Post-its on the counter and stepped back. Why the hell was I thinking of leaving Clint a special note? He was my boss.
My incredibly sexy boss. He was the guy who stood shirtless in the driveway so that I wouldn’t be afraid of him. I shivered thinking of those tattoos up and down his arms. He was also the guy who apologized for checking me out in a towel and vowed never to make me feel uncomfortable again. It had been a little disappointing—but then he held my hand too long and I knew that maybe he saw me as more. More than just the woman who took care of Nana.
Shaking my head, I put the pack of notes back in drawer. This was a dangerous line of thinking for someone in my line of work. I was the employee, not a part of the family. I’d always remembered that, until now.
After slamming the drawer shut, I put the note about the senior center on the fridge and went to join Nana in the living room.
* * *
The next day, Nana was excited for her trip to the senior center. She spent a longer time than usual on her hair and insisted on wearing her lucky cardigan. It was dark blue with red roses on the collar.
“Why is it lucky?” I asked as I helped her with the hairspray.
“I wore it when I won the gin tournament five years running in Astoria.” She looked at herself in the mirror. “Okay, I think that’s enough spray. Let’s go see if I can win some money today.”
I cleared my throat. “Are you going to try to make friends too?”
She laughed. “Oh yes, that too.”
Nana talked about various gin and card games all the way to the senior center. I was a little shocked. It turned out she played blackjack too and was really good.
“It’s hard, though,” she concluded as we pulled into the parking lot. “It’s hard to know when to say enough and not keep betting in blackjack. It’s a fine line between fun and obsession.”
“How did you know when to stop?” I asked as I unbuckled our seat belts.
“I just never crossed that line,” she
explained. “But those that have crossed the line and then recovered, they’re very strong, you know. There’s no shame in overcoming your weaknesses.”
I studied Nana as I helped her out of the car. It was one of the most impassioned comments she had ever made to me. I wondered if she really had been addicted to it once, but managed to control it.
“It takes real strength of character,” I agreed as we rolled into the big glass doors of the center. “All right, here we are.”
There were a few round tables where groups were playing cards, so I pushed Nana’s chair over there. She introduced us and then whispered to me, “I can take it from here, why don’t you go read a magazine?” She winked.
I stepped back, feeling dismissed. Then I giggled. She was definitely in her element. The other people at the table had already dealt her in for the next hand. I left her to play with the cool kids and I went to go find a couch. I sat on one end of the couch, an older woman sat on the other end knitting. She nodded to me and I opened my box of flashcards. A lady with white hair rolled into a careful chignon played the piano while I studied.
Soon, I got lost in my studies. I didn’t look up until the piano screeched to a halt. Everyone had stopped, even the gin game paused and everyone looked to the door way. I twisted around to see what happened. Clint was standing in the doorway. He was wearing a brown work shirt with his leather vest and stained jeans. A chain looped from his pocket and he was still wearing his sunglasses. He looked every inch the outlaw biker.
Everyone watched as he strode across the room and dropped a kiss on Nana’s cheek. After that, activities resumed. The piano player picked up where she had left off.
“Hey,” Clint said, sitting on the couch next to me.
“Oh, hi.” I put down my flashcards. “You didn’t need to be here for another half hour or so.”
Outlaw Ride Page 3
