“Oh, my goodness.” More of her preconceived notions came crashing down around her. “Is he here?”
“He’s in the first bay.”
She walked as fast as her heels would allow her. They made tapping sounds on the squeaky clean, terracotta floor. She couldn’t wait to see him.
Some of the air needed clearing. Now.
Chapter Twelve
“Hello, stranger,” April said.
Bull dropped his brand-new Ping driver on the tile floor. Good thing the cover was on the head.
She jumped at the loud sound the club made as it hit the floor. “I didn’t know you played golf.”
“You don’t know a lot about me,” he said. He didn’t know if he would have the chance to show her. That picture in the paper told how she really felt. She was never going to ride a motorcycle. Never going to be at ease with bikers. Never going to get over her past.
Her visit was the last thing he’d expected, though they still needed to finish up with the rally. For Ben.
An awkward moment passed between them where neither spoke. Her hair brushed her slight shoulders and rested on the straps of her spring dress. He wanted to pull her to him, but he knew better. “So, what did you come here to talk about?”
“The rally. Something else I’ve cooked up to help Ben. Us. I know I haven’t been the Rock of Gibraltar so far, but I also know that I can do better.” She put her hands behind her back and twisted slightly from side to side. “This isn’t easy for me. I’ve made a lot of mistakes. I judged you and stereotyped you and your friends before I got to know you. And that was wrong.”
Now he was hearing exactly what he’d wanted to hear. “Go on,” he said as he put the driver in his golf bag.
“Every…” She stopped and shook her head. “Every misconception I ever had has been broken in these last few weeks. I found out that risk-assessment adjusters can still end up with their hearts in a wreck—no matter how cautious they try to be.”
Her heart had been in a wreck?
“I miss you, Bull.” Her eyes reflected soft light.
Did he just hear what he thought he heard? His insides became jumpy. He turned, walked to the bay door, and back again.
“I missed you, too.” He blurted out the words and meant every one of them. “I tried to ignore it, but it didn’t go away. Every time I glanced at that bike you won in the corner over there, I wanted to be with you. Talk to you. I finally had to put a sheet over the stupid thing, but then it hit me like the ghost of—I don’t know—friendship gone bad or something.” Friendship was a very mild word for what he really felt. He figured he was scaring the daylights out of her, but it was time to push a bit. To see how she really felt about him.
Glimpsing the sheeted thing in the back of the building, she gave a nervous chuckle and lowered her head.
“I wanted to call you earlier, but I knew that I should talk to you in person,” she said. “I know how difficult it had to be for you at the hospital. The memories of your brother and all.”
He inhaled deeply and cupped his temples between his fingers. “That wasn’t easy.” He paused. “How’s Ben? I’ve been afraid to ask.”
She stepped toward him and touched his forearm. Just below the bandaged tattoo that he’d had altered earlier that day. “That’s one reason why I’m here. He’s doing about the same, but I’ve organized a donor testing drive in Summerbrook and the surrounding communities. I wanted to ask if you’d be tested, too.”
He smiled. “So, you’ve come for blood?”
She grabbed his hand and met his eyes. “I’ve come for you.” The warmth of her small hand in his radiated to his heart.
He gazed into her face. No. Into her soul. His heart was on fire. In a wreck and on fire.
She had changed.
“You still afraid of bikes?” he asked.
“I’m not going to lie. I am. Thing is, though, I’m willing to work on it. But I’m not afraid of bikers.”
He put his arm around her shoulders and turned her toward his golf bag. “Well, then, you won’t mind going with me tomorrow to the Ben Evans Golf Classic at the country club, will you? I think I’m going to need some moral support.” In actuality, he simply wanted to be near her as much as he could. Before the rally was over.
Almost before he got the words out of his mouth, she said, “Of course I won’t mind. It’ll give me an opportunity to drum up some more business for the donor testing. And the bike rally.”
The air in the room stilled and he leaned into her, giving her lots of time to pull away if she wanted. But she didn’t. He leaned down until his lips touched hers and the heat he’d felt in his heart transferred to her sweet mouth. She tasted like a spring evening. Her scent was light and reminded him of freshly blooming jasmines. He ran his hand up her back and let it settle on her neck. As he pressed his mouth into hers even more, he supported her head as it tilted back. His body rumbled inside like his Harley did when he rode. But this was no mechanical rumbling. It was hot, magnetic energy that threatened to explode. He was wrecked.
Tonight wasn’t some forced meeting like that evening at the steakhouse. Even their differences were no match for their attraction. Their mouths and arms and hearts were drawn together like some irresistible force that would not be denied. He wanted her delicate body for his own, and he sensed she was responding to the rumbling deep within him.
He ran his hand down the drape of pearls about her neck. Mmmmm. Soft. Smooth. Curved. He liked the feel of them. And of her.
He wanted to find out where this whole thing could end up. Already, he’d exposed his soul to her like he’d never done before. Shared his past. About Adam and the Angels. Heck, he’d even changed the ink on his arm. He knew he was going to have to move out of his comfort zone even more to be a part of April’s life, and he was willing to do that. There was a sticking point, though. He held her in his arms and looked beyond her at his motorcycle against the wall. For her to be with him, it was going to have to be on the back of his Harley. That would be the thing that proved that she could deal with his world. And him.
…
“Guess what? You’re going to a golf tournament with me tomorrow,” April said. She pushed the speaker icon on her phone and leaned back on her bed.
“I don’t think so. I was planning to catch up on some reading. You know that new Anne Rivers Siddons novel is out,” Jenna said.
“Bring it with you. You can read it when the lines lull. I need a hand with signing people up for the donor testing.”
“Well, I guess I can do that. At least it’s not some motorcycle race or anything. And the Ladies League is sponsoring it,” Jenna said. “There might even be some cute single guys there.”
April knew the team that Bull was sponsoring. Patch Evans, Bertie Houseman, himself, and Hogan Thorpe. “Yeah, there’ll be cute guys there.”
It was all set.
The next day at the Oaks Country Club, the tumultuous feelings that had overwhelmed her the night of the silent auction picked at her brain. She straightened her stance as she walked toward the antique building. I’m stronger than that. I have to be for Ben.
Inside the club, she set up a small table beside the platform on which her picture had been taken that crazy night.
“Is this okay?” April asked Paulette Mazell, the Summerbrook Ladies League president and coordinator for the tournament.
“Perfect,” Paulette said as she shimmied around a table in her blue capris and yellow sweater. “Before we hand out prizes and announce the winners, you can have some time to speak to the participants about the donor drive and the rally.”
“That would be great.”
As April set out the sign-up sheets, she noticed how cliquish all the ladies were from the league—like they had a secret and nobody else could be privy to it. Did April really want to join such a group of women? It would mean that she was finally acceptable to all the “right” people in her town. But April wasn’t so sure she wanted that any longe
r.
Jenna arrived and socialized with the other league ladies for a while before she and April helped out with the tournament for the rest of the day. April was glad Paulette had put them on the big piazza at the back of the club—away from the Pulitzer and pearls girls. Jenna wasn’t a carbon copy of those women. Though it may have looked otherwise to people who didn’t know her, when push came to shove, Jenna always chose their friendship. And April had known that since childhood.
Azaleas were blooming in vivid pink as far as April could see. Interspersed in the middle of patches of bushes were dogwoods with their white flowers heralding the birth of the new season. The warm air wafted under the porch roof.
“This isn’t so bad, is it?” April asked.
Jenna put her book down. “Nah. I even got a little reading done in the process. And look at this day.”
As the golf carts came around the turn, each man would stop for some refreshments. At eleven, she and Jenna started handing out the already made chicken-salad sandwiches.
Jenna had settled back to reading her book when Bull’s team pulled up.
“How are you guys playing?” April asked.
“Like we didn’t know the difference between irons and woods,” Bull said.
“Speak for yourself, Bullworth,” Hogan said. “How have you been, Jenna?” He reached out his hand to shake hers.
Jenna’s face popped out of her novel. She stood, letting her book slide from her lap.
“Fine. I’ve been very busy,” she said with a little half smile that made her look all discombobulated. Her face flashed the same shade as the azaleas blooming in the distance.
Hogan was still shaking her hand. “Maybe I’ll see you after we win this tournament,” he said.
“Hog, you’re always the optimist,” Patch said. The group laughed.
April stared at Bull, marking the shadow of the stubble along his jawline. He was so striking in his ponytail and Polo shirt. So sexy. She wanted to come from behind the table and plant another go-for-broke kiss on his generous lips. She’d need a different kind of strength when it came to him. “Get yourselves a glass of tea.” She held out an open palm. “Anyone want a sandwich?” she asked, still gazing at Bull.
They all said yes to that, and she took four from the cooler and handed them to the other men. When she gave Bull his, she grazed his hand with her fingers, longing pulsing through them. She needed to get a grip. There was no time for flirting with him now.
As soon as they pulled off in their golf carts, Jenna picked up her book from the tile floor. “You didn’t tell me they would be here.”
“You didn’t ask,” April said.
“That’s not fair and you know it. I didn’t want to see Hog again,” Jenna said, settling back down in her chair.
“Well, he sure wants to see you. Bull said he asked him to try to get your number for him,” April said. She tucked in her chin and raised her eyebrow. “You sure there’s not something going on between you two? I mean, the night at the auction, you were pretty giggly. And I’ve never seen your face turn that shade of pink before. The way it did when you shook Hogan’s hand.”
“It did not,” Jenna said.
April smiled. “It surely did.”
A stillness settled between them.
“He didn’t really ask for my number, did he?” Jenna asked with a note of incredulity in her voice.
“Yes, he did. Bull told me so, but Hogan probably figured he’d best give up by now. The auction was a while ago,” April said. “I’m sure he’s no longer interested.”
“I couldn’t possibly give him my number,” Jenna said. “What if he called?”
“I think that would be the whole idea. Come to think of it, that would be awful. Then you would have to go out with him, probably to some nice restaurant or somewhere. Bull tells me Hogan is quite the connoisseur.”
“How can that be?” Jenna asked.
“He does own one of the largest Harley shops in the tri-county area, and he’s very successful. I think he’s a Clemson grad like you.”
A group of golfers came through and Jenna passed out the tea and sandwiches faster than she had before.
“How do you know that?” Jenna asked.
“Clemson? Oh, there was an alumni sticker on his Jaguar in the parking lot. I saw it when he was taking out his clubs.” April became silent. Her best friend needed time to think, to get past her misconceptions.
Jenna was a good person deep inside, just a tad shallow on top. But whenever April needed Jenna, she was there—like she was at the auction—like she was with the fliers on the town square—like today. Oh, Jenna might complain a bit. But she’d be there. April couldn’t even count the times she’d helped others out. Like Miss Adree. And Ben.
Jenna filled a few more cups with ice. “He drives a Jaguar?” she asked, pretending to not be impressed.
“The two of you would probably have a lot in common,” April said.
Then the inquisition started. Who were his folks? Where was his shop? Where did he live?
“Ask him, if you’re interested,” April replied to each question. She knew she was infuriating her friend.
“Well, it’s probably best that I don’t know. He does have a mullet, remember?” Jenna said with finality.
“And last I heard, they weren’t giving haircuts at Romey’s Barbershop any longer.” That shut Jenna up. She sat with the book open, staring out at the beautifully manicured course. “Hair can be cut, lost, colored, straightened, or curled, you know. It’s as impermanent as a gust of spring air. Who cares about hair in the big scheme of things?”
Jenna twirled a lock of her own blond hair around her finger and stared at the fuchsia-colored azaleas in the distance.
…
Bull sat at his team’s table in the country club and watched as April flitted around gathering the scorecards. Too many men were watching her as well, and he didn’t like it one bit. She had on a white cotton skirt and a blue-and-white striped shirt with sleeves that capped the top of her slender shoulders.
Bull was uncomfortable. Golfers could be a deceptively acceptable appearing bunch. But he knew what some of them could be like. For a few, it most certainly was not a gentleman’s game.
Look at what had happened on the course. The group behind them rolled up like they could be on the cover of Golf Digest, but they were anything but genteel and well mannered. While the two groups were waiting to tee off, one of the men in the group behind them asked if they had been associated with Rebel Angels. Bull anteed up.
He’d said, “That was long ago. When I was a kid.”
After the fourth hole, when the other guys had done considerable drinking, they kept hitting into Bull’s group and saying stuff like, “Sorry about that, Easy Rider.”
Once was enough. Twice was too much. But they did it again and again. What a lot of people didn’t know was that a golf ball could knock the wind out of a man, blind him, or even kill him, if it hit the right place on his head.
Jerks. Drunken jerks. Funny. Now he was thinking like the risk specialist that April was.
Good thing Bertie Houseman was with them because Bull and Hog might have taken control of the situation and told them a thing or two if they had not been supervised.
Most of the golfers there were pretty respectable guys, though. It was just those few. That was probably how bikers had ended up with a bad reputation years ago. A few bad apples. Or rather, a few bad bikers.
When April and Jenna finished, they came over to the table.
“Let me get you lovely ladies a seat,” Bull said. He grabbed a couple of chairs from the side of the room and put them between him and Hogan.
“I have to speak as soon as everyone eats. Before the awards. So how’d your team end up?” April asked.
“Like I said before. We’ve got it in the bag,” Hogan said. “Wait and see. It’s big, I’m telling you.”
Patch and Bertie shook their heads.
Hogan kept flirti
ng with Jenna, and to Bull’s surprise, she was returning his attention with smiles. He inched his chair closer to hers, and she took off her sweater. A glow covered her face and softened it. Hog whispered something in her ear and her eyes lit up like an electronic leaderboard at a golf tournament.
The club’s waitress brought out plates of fried chicken and Southern potato salad. Cornbread and butter were already on the table. She refilled the glasses with more of the delicious sweet tea. Bull was nervous. Things were going well, but the table that was playing behind them was getting louder and louder the more they drank.
One of the guys tumbled by Bull’s table on the way to the restroom. He laughed and asked, “You not know the way out of town with your friends?” The comment was directed at Bull.
Hogan stood.
Jenna’s eyes looked like they were going to pop out of her head.
Patch stood as well. “Don’t let him get to you, Hog. He’s had a little too much today. That sun can make a man do crazy things.”
The golfer stumbled away, laughing. April looked at Bull with understanding in her eyes. The last thing he wanted to do was to embarrass her this afternoon—especially in the same place in which she’d nearly had a nervous breakdown the night of the auction. That was why he had invited her—to let her get beyond the experience she’d had here before. And, of course, to be near her.
Being near her felt so good. So natural.
He looked down at his arm. He hoped that April would notice the subtle changes on his tat. The weapons had been covered with symbols for charity, light, and hope. For charity, a heart replaced the gun. For light, a beam radiated from the sword. And for hope, an anchor now hung from the chains.
Jenna and Hogan continued their glances and soon light brushes and touches followed. Hogan was all too attentive. If Jenna needed the salt, he nearly knocked the centerpiece over to get it for her. If her glass was low on tea, it was a national emergency for the waitress to get to the table to refill it. Bull hadn’t seen him act that way before.
It wasn’t long before Hogan and Jenna started talking to each other in hushed tones. He took one of those little golf pencils out of his pocket and grabbed a paper napkin from the table. He sketched out one of the holes on the course and explained something to her. Then she scribbled something and handed the napkin back to him.
Bikers and Pearls Page 16
