Southern Riders (Scars Book 1)

by Robin Edwards

  “Michael, come on,” I again refuse to give him what he wants. I’m not padding his ego to ensure him no other man could have my heart before revealing how I just want to move away to start over.

  After a few long moments of silence, he finally rises and lifts the gym bag from the floor as if it’s now fifty pounds heavier, and we walk to the door without saying a word.

  “Let me know when you want to get the rest of your things,” I mention just before closing the door and watching him sulk from the peephole. He sits in the driver seat for a while, just looking down at the steering wheel, and eventually he backs out of the driveway as I return to my kitchen with a new level of determination.

  “You never tire of me, do ya?” Jamie answers on the first ring. My partner has the best sense of humor.

  “Never,” I giggle before sharing the real reason for my call, “I want to go.”

  “Oh, I know. And I just talked to my friend out in Kentucky. He’s gonna call me back in an hour, and I may have some good news for you, grasshopper,” he replies in a tone that lets me know he’s smiling.

  “Really? Kentucky?” I ask while walking towards the living room.

  “It’s about as different as you can get from LA, but that might be just what you need,” he soothes the anxiety forming in my belly.

  “Well, okay. Keep me posted,” I say before ending the call.

  How crazy would it be to move to Kentucky? I’ve never been to the south. Is Kentucky even in the south? Or is it in the Midwest? Wherever it is, I’ve never been. Twisting on the sofa, failing to find comfort, I kick my feet up on the coffee table and accidentally knock something over. Looking down on the thick beige carpet I see the red velvet box on its side. He didn’t even take the ring.

  Chapter Two

  JESSIE

  I’ve been on the road for 32-hours; 42-hours if you count the three breaks I took to nap in parking lots along the way. Jamie came through and landed me a position on a force in Kentucky, and somehow, I found the courage to accept it. There was only a slight pay decrease, and with the significantly lower cost of living, I figured it was more like a promotion.

  The last three weeks have been exhausting, but I’ve made it. The first thing I notice as I pull off the interstate is a large, white water tower with the words, ‘Danville Quite Simply the Nicest Town’, painted across it in black letters. Once I arrive in what is supposed to be their downtown area, I imagine it just might be the nicest place. The main street looks straight out of a children’s book. The buildings are light pastel colors, and everyone walking on the sidewalk seems to be idealistic. As I wait at a stoplight, a mom walks through the crosswalk holding the hand of a sweet baby girl who’s skipping along, happily licking an ice cream cone. This can’t be real.

  I’d done a bit of research on Danville, but nothing could have prepared me for the feel of a town this small. There was one main road that took you all the way through the town, one lane in each direction, and even in rush hour time there wasn’t a hint of traffic.

  A dark purple begins to cover the dark orange and majestic red hues of the sunset and I pull to the side of the road to take in the natural beauty. I have been accepting all good signs and omens that this was a good move, and this sunset seems like a reasonable candidate.

  Taking a moment to stretch my cramped legs, I get out and circle my jeep before lifting myself to sit on my hood. I’m in the center of downtown Danville, people are casually walking about from one building

  This isn’t a vacation, Jessie. I must keep repeating this to myself. Los Angeles has been my home for all twenty-eight years of my life, so being in this small town feels surreal, like at any moment I could be returning home. I guess the absurd amount of luggage in my backseat and trunk should be a gentle reminder. After deciding against driving a truck and researching cross country moving rates, I decided to get rid of everything. Besides, most of it wasn’t mine to begin with and I couldn’t bear to lug a Uhaul worth of Michael memories with me for two thousand miles.

  The sunset is transitioning into a darker display and looking up I feel certain the view is so much clearer here than the smog infested sky in LA. Knowing I should get to my hotel, I hop back in the jeep. According to my GPS device, I’m only about three miles away, which is perfect because I haven’t slept in a bed in three days.

  The moment I turn the key I know something must be wrong. Caroline, my red Jeep Wrangler, makes a coughing sound before a strange shrieking sound that makes me cringe. Luckily, the engine does eventually turn over, and I silently curse Michael as I pull back onto the main road. When he finally returned to get all of his things, he’d asked me how I would be moving and when I told him I was driving the Jeep he went into panic overload.

  Agreeing to allow him to have the Jeep serviced before I left was the only way to get him off my back, so I did it. And now look at me; my poor Caroline was even more exhausted than me.

  “Just a few more miles,” I whisper, and as if she actually hears me, Caroline omits a nasty sound and a small stream of smoke begins to flow from the hood. Noticing a gas station on the right-hand side, I pull in, hopeful someone will be able to help me.

  Glancing around, it’s like all the people I was just watching a few minutes ago have all retreated. The gas station looks deserted as I move around to the front of the truck. The second I open the hood smoke goes everywhere and I’m left covering my face trying to recover from the coughing fit it causes.

  If this was Michael’s car I’m sure it would be in tip top shape, but for me he obviously didn’t take the same precautions. The thought upsets me even further as I glance around the empty parking lot. The smoke has cleared and now I smell a blend of apple pie and orange blossoms. Attached to the gas station is a shop named Hayes Auto Repair, and across from that there’s a small red building, with a script sign out front that reads, ‘Donna’s Diner’. Walking towards the sweet smell, assuming Donna is responsible for the apple pie aroma, I notice a man in front of the auto repair shop. Kneeling beside a vintage motorcycle, his hands are covered in oil, his denim jeans stained from a hard day’s work.

  There is the start of a tattoo on his forearm, but his rolled-up sleeves hide most of the art. Amid admiring his broad shoulders and muscular frame, my attention switches to the motorcycle; and boy is it a beauty. The silver frame is a bit rusted, but I can still imagine it in its prime; it must have been a real show stopper.

  I’m so lost in the bike that I don’t even notice the man, now standing before me towering at least 6 inches taller than my 5’ 7” frame. Jamie always said I was great at reading people, but I’m getting nothing from the mystery man in front of me. His eyes are the darkest shade of gray I’ve ever seen, his hair is even darker, barely reaching the base of his neck.

  “Can I help you?” He asks in a tone so soft I barely make out the words.

  “She’s a beauty,” I hear myself say and I’m instantly regretting not asking him for help with my Jeep.

  “You like bikes?” He perks up a bit as if he didn’t expect that from me.

  “Oh, I love them. My father taught me a bit when I was younger. She’s an Ivory Major, right? 1936?” I guess the bike’s details.

  “Thirty-five,” he smirks while correcting me and I can tell he’s impressed by my knowledge.

  “Damn!” I slap my hands together, upset I was so close with the year.

  “Close enough,” he shrugs and we both smile at each other for a second too long. We’re standing so close the encounter feels more intimate than it really is, and I’m shocked by the strange attraction I feel towards him.

  “Can you help with my Jeep?” I finally find my words, pointing to Caroline.

  “Oh, so you do actually need help?” he jokes before walking over to the Jeep as I follow behind giving him the backstory.

  “I’ve only had her for about 4-years. I always get my tune ups and everything, but I just drove from LA, so I
think she’s just tired,” I say over his shoulder as he looks under the hood.

  “She?” He quips, but I can’t be sure if he’s smiling.

  “Yes, her name is Caroline,” I hold my chin up while answering and he glances up, with the sweetest smile and I’m sure he’s amused.

  “You said you drove from LA?” He asks.

  “Yep.”

  “Los Angeles?” He looks up from the engine in shock.

  “That’s the one,” I giggle.

  “What brings you to Danville from Hollywood?” He scrunches his eyebrows together while asking. Deciding it’s not the place or time to explain how LA is not ‘Hollywood’, I decide to let it go for the moment although it annoys me to my core that out of towners group the two together.

  “Work,” I answer ambiguously, not sure if I should let him know I’m the newest deputy. Who knows, he could be a part of the motorcycle club the Sherriff warned me about during my interview process.

  “Okay,” he nods and returns his attention to the engine. Maybe my vagueness was a bit rude because I think he looked offended for a second.

  “So, you love motorcycles too, huh?” I ask while leaning over into the hood to watch as he moves about with complete comfort.

  “I know motorcycles better than I know people,” he responds while unscrewing something connected to my engine. He’s being elusive and distant now; I kick myself for not just telling him the truth about my reason for coming to Danville.

  “Oh, well,” I begin, but he interrupts me as he stands up.

  “It looks like you’ve got a coolant leak or you could need a new radiator; I’ll have to look at it a little more to be sure. Just leave the keys here and we can have it back to you in a day or so,” he says without even looking at me before walking back towards the repair shop.

  Unsure if I should follow or not, I remain there feeling the cold shoulder until he glances backwards at me, so I scurry towards the office. There’s a rusty set of bells attached to the smudged glass door that sound when I make my way into the small and clutter-filled office. There’s a small wooden desk covered in paperwork, and two brown chairs sitting across from it. The man is now behind the desk scribbling on paper with a deep frown, his thick eyebrows furrowed as he concentrates.

  “Here. Just fill this out and leave the keys,” he softly instructs me in a kind tone.

  “Okay, thank you,” I glance up at him, but he simply nods and looks away. He acts like a shy kid in grade school, but there’s something interesting about him.

  Just as I’ve finished filling out the paperwork it dawns on me that I can’t leave my Jeep with all my things in it. I planned on taking it to the hotel with me, but if I’ve got to leave Caroline here at the shop, I’ll need a new plan.

  “Do you know of a storage unit I can rent?” I ask and he looks utterly confused. “I have all of my things in my trunk and I don’t really have a place to put them,” I add in an attempt to explain.

  “Oh,” he pauses while looking around the office before continuing, “I can keep them in the storage room.”

  “Well, I don’t want to trouble you,” I try to defer while painting a forced smile across my face.

  “It’s not a trouble. I’ll just put them in there,” he points to a door to the right of the desk, “and you can take them with you when you pick up the vehicle.”

  “Oh… Okay. I guess that will work,” I hesitate, a little apprehensive about leaving everything I own with him, but he’s so soft spoken and kind, how much harm can he be?

  “I’ve got to finish this up and then you’re good to go. You can get your things,” he says after taking the paperwork I’ve completed.

  Walking back to the parking lot I wonder what his deal is and then realize that there’s no one I could ask about him. I don’t know anyone here in Danville; everyone is a stranger and I have no way of asking about people I meet. It makes me think back to my last conversation with Lindsay just before I’d left Los Angeles.

  Chapter Three

  JESSIE

  “But how will you even meet people? You don’t know anyone there, Jessie,” Lindsay begins as I position the first box into the trunk of my Jeep. I know I’ll have to be strategic if I want everything to fit, so I’m taking my time putting boxes together like a jigsaw puzzle.

  “I’ll make friends,” I absentmindedly assure her while reaching for the next box.

  “Danville is the middle of nowhere, Jess! Why there of all places?” She’s asked me this a handful of times since I first told her I was taking the position. Neither of us had ever heard of Danville, but after talking with Jamie I decided that was a good thing.

  “Lindsay, I need a fresh start, and I’m not going to get that moving twenty minutes into the valley,” I smirk at her, referencing the suggestion she’d recently proposed with a straight face.

  “There are some far out places in the valley, Jessie. Calabasas is an hour away, sometimes two with traffic!” She pleads her case as I continue to pack the trunk, which is filling up faster than I anticipated.

  “I’m not moving to the valley. It’s either LA or an entirely different place altogether, and that’s what Danville is,” I reason.

  “Yeah, but you’ve just graduated from the force. It’s only been two years. I thought you would get the hang of the ropes before jetting out to some place we’ve never heard of,” she argues.

  “Two years is a long time, and Danville is a much safer city than here, so I’m sure two-years will be more than enough time to prepare me for what I’m walking into.” I shrug while looking over the suitcases and boxes standing next to the Jeep, as I try to determine which should be packed away next.

  “Is this about Michael? Because I can make him leave you know,” she jokes and I shoot her a challenging look before we both break into giggles.

  “No, really. It’s partly him, but mostly me. I can’t get my fresh start here; he definitely won’t let me. I don’t know what’s up with him, and I really don’t want to figure out. At least now I’m sure I don’t want him back. I just have to figure out what I do want. I need some time to clear my head without everyone asking if I’ve set a wedding date. I’m constantly explaining my life, and the drama of it all, and I just need to let that all blow over,” I say more to myself than Lindsay. If I’m honest, I’ve still been trying to convince myself that this is the best thing to do; spending every night weighing the pros and cons before reminding myself the decision has already been made.

  “So, you’re coming back?” She perks up while handing me a duffle bag stuffed with my workout clothes.

  “Yes,” I stop to place my hand on her shoulder before adding, “I’ve told you over and over that I’ll be back. This will just be a nice break for me and when I get home I’ll have my head on straight.”

  “So, like, one year or what?” She pries further.

  “Two,” I nod.

  “Two years. And that’s it?” She pushes for my confirmation.

  “Two years, Lindsay,” I promise while shaking my head at her dramatics.

  “Okay,” she hugs me and I can tell she’s fighting back tears. I’d promised myself I wouldn’t break down when I left, but I honestly didn’t expect it to be this difficult.

  “Just promise me if you get homesick you’ll come back,” she whispers and we both laugh a bit more.

  My thoughts back to that last day in LA flood me in such vivid detail that I’m a bit confused of my whereabouts when I’m jolted from my daydream by the sound of a passing car.

  “I’ll get the heavy stuff,” I hear from beside me and look over to see the handsome man who’s been helping me. His scent is a bit intoxicating; a blend of musk from a hard day’s work, oil, and some masculine aroma that I imagine is one of those deodorant body spray type colognes.

  “Thank you,” I utter as he heads in, carrying two large boxes. Watching him disappear into the auto shop office,
I realize I don’t even know his name.

  Together we load the storage room in the office with my belongings until my Jeep is completely empty.

  “So you’re staying at McClaren Inn,” he remarks while closing my trunk.

  “Yeah,” I answer slowly, wondering if the town is so small that everyone knows there’s a new girl in town.

  “You put it down on your paperwork,” he adds. He must have picked up on me apprehension.

  “Oh, yeah,” I giggle, a bit embarrassed by my previous thoughts.

  “I’ll give you a ride,” he tells me more than asks and before I know it I’m following him to a brick red Chevy step side truck.

  The ride is filled with an unbearable silence I keep trying to fill, but he doesn’t seem bothered at all. “I just realized I don’t know your name,” I giggle as he continues down the main road.

  “Daryl.” Is all he says and I nod and smile in his direction although his gaze is trained on the road.

  “So, is McClarens Inn a good hotel?” I cringe as the words fall out of my mouth. I’m so desperate to say something, anything, that I’m just saying the first thing that comes to mind.

  “I’ve heard it’s nice,” he answers quietly.

  “Oh, you’ve never stayed?” I perk up, hoping this could lead to an extended answer from him.

  “I live here,” he says flatly and I feel like an idiot. Of course, he wouldn’t stay at a hotel in the town he lives in.

  “Oh… right,” I stutter before admitting defeat and riding the rest of the way in silence.

  Once we arrive at the hotel I take my small overnight bag and thank Daryl for giving me a lift. As I’m preparing to say goodbye I notice him locking the car doors, a little shocked that he wants to walk me in.

  “Hello, do you two have a reservation?” The older woman behind the desk asks with a strong accent.