Through The Weeds (Nightshade MC Book 2)

by Shannon Flagg

  “You're not rattling.” Buster assured her. “I asked, remember?”

  “How was your day?”

  “It was good. We tore down the wreck of Amelia's old house. You know Amelia, right?” Buster figured she had to from Baked.

  “I know the house, I go past there when I run.”

  “You run?” The image of her in tight little running clothes flashed through his mind and made him smile. Yeah, she'd look pretty fine in motion. He could just tell.

  “Yeah, it's cheaper than the gym and it gives me time to think. You look like a gym guy. I bet you like weights.”

  Buster nodded. “I do, but I don't spend too much time in a gym. A lot of my exercise comes on the job. Never been much for running, unless I've got a reason to, of course.”

  “Of course,” Caroline replied. He thought that she'd relaxed some from earlier.

  “It's going to take us a while to get the house back up, we've got other jobs that need doing, so I'm thinking it'll be about a year, maybe less if they decide to go with something prefab.” Buster looked up as the waitress came over with the drinks.

  “Are y'all ready to order?” she asked. “Though I've got a feeling I know what you'd like.” When she winked at him, Buster realized why she looked familiar, and it wasn't because she'd waited on him before, well at least at the restaurant. Her nametag read Tara. She'd once been a pass-around at the bar, maybe three years back, which was why he hadn't remembered sooner.

  “I think that we might need another minute,” Buster replied.

  “I'm good if you know what you want.” Caroline closed the menu. “I'll have the steak and shrimp combo. Medium well for the steak. Baked potato and side salad. And a glass of ice water, please.”

  “I'll have the same, but instead of the side salad, bring me extra shrimp and some fries.” Buster picked up both menus and handed them to Tara.

  “You just let me know when you're ready and I'll bring you over the dessert menu. Get you something all warm and sweet.” Tara winked at him and sashayed as she walked away. Buster looked over as Caroline laughed. He hadn't expected her to find the situation funny.

  “I do believe that woman is going to spit in my food,” she told him. “If she'd have been any more obvious, she'd have mounted you right here.”

  “She used to hang out at the bar. We might have hooked up once or twice.” Buster didn't think it was more than that. He remembered her as being clingy to anyone who'd had his dick inside of her.

  “I see.” Caroline frowned. “So, women really just hang around there to be handy when one of you guys wants a quick roll in the hay?”

  “Some of them do,” Buster admitted. “Most of them just want to have a good time. It's not all about fucking.” It was mostly about fucking, though, but he didn't know exactly to explain that, at least not on a first date.

  “Yeah, right. You don't have to try and sanitize it for me. Those women have come into Baked. I heard them talk. It's about fucking for them, either for pleasure or social advancement. Do you realize that there are a few of them who are harboring serious delusions?” She leaned forward, amusement obvious in her expression.

  It seemed that she'd finally relaxed. Buster was glad for it, even though he really liked that he made her a little nervous. “What exactly do they say?” He grew more interested as her face flushed bright red. Did she blush like that all over? He'd sure love to find out. “Oh, do they get graphic? Give dirty details?”

  “The emphasis is normally on dirty.” Her expression grew serious. “Look, I'm just going to say something straight out. And you might not like it, and that's fine, but it needs to be said. I'm not the type to hook up. I don't sleep around. I'm not like the women who like to hang at the bar, nothing against them, but I'm not like them. If that's what you're expecting...”

  “It's not.” Buster cut her off. Suddenly the way she'd cooled off towards him when he'd mentioned the bar made perfect sense. He could only imagine the stories that she'd heard. “I asked you to dinner because I wanted to have dinner with you, good food and good conversation. I've got no ulterior motive.”

  “I'm not saying I expect this to get serious or anything like that, I'm just...” She trailed off, sighed. “And I'm making this even more awkward than it already was. I have a talent for that.” She looked away from him, down at the table.

  “I think that we'll survive. Maybe even have some fun.” On impulse he reached out and covered her hand with his on the table. She didn't pull away; she might have even blushed a little more. Buster squeezed lightly. “And I've got a confession to make, too.”

  “Oh?” She kept her hand where it was. Her teeth pressed down on her bottom lip. She met his eyes, and it was all that he could do to not just lean across the table and kiss her.

  “First dates? Small talk? The whole awkward thing? I'm not really that good at it.” Buster stroked two of his fingers over the back of her hand. She inhaled sharply, sat up straighter and kept her hand where it was.

  Caroline laughed, a real laugh. Buster knew that she wasn't laughing at him. She was laughing with him, and the sound was pretty musical, in his opinion. In fact, her laugh had been one of the first things that he noticed about her.

  “Are you making fun of me now, Caroline?” Buster teased.

  “No. I'm not. It's just...” she blushed a deeper shade of red. “I'm worse at the small talk and more awkward than you are, trust me. I might have even practiced some topics of conversation.”

  It was his turn to laugh because he could just see her doing that. “Well, don't waste all that hard work. Tell me what you came up with.” Buster continued to stroke her hand.

  “It's stupid stuff. Silly. Like where did you grow up and to tell me about your family. Stuff like that.” She shrugged her shoulders, nibbled at her bottom lip again. He didn't think that she realized what she was doing or just how distracting it was to him. I grew up in Michigan but not in Detroit,” Buster replied. “How about you?” He didn't like to talk about the past. As far as he was concerned, his life had started for real when he'd ended up in Detroit with a prospect patch on his back.

  “I've lived close enough to the city to drive in, with my parents when I was younger and then with my friends. It was always a thrill, especially when it was with my friends.” Caroline smiled at the memories.

  “No brothers or sisters?”

  “No, I was the miracle child, or at least that was the way that they explained it to me. My mother had a few miscarriages and the doctors all said that there was no hope. They gave up. Started researching adoption and then surprise, here was this fetus that would turn into me.”

  “That's a nice story.” Buster grinned at her. “Bet they spoiled you rotten.”

  “You wouldn't be far off with that bet,” she admitted. “I was honestly a little shit because of it. I grew and became a bigger shit. I remember throwing a fit because they didn't get me a car for my sixteenth birthday. It was the first time I remember seeing disappointment on my parents' face. They canceled the trip they'd planned instead and told me if I wanted a car, I could get a job and get it myself. I did.”

  “What kind of car?”

  “It was a Ford Mustang. Don't look impressed, it was barely roadworthy. Most of the inside was held together with duct tape and the prayers of a seventeen-year-old girl.” She laughed. “I used it for years, until it just wouldn't run anymore and I got a new used car with the money it would have cost me to fix it. I cried when I took it to the scrap yard. So yeah, I'm a dork.”

  “Not a dork at all. A first car is something you never forget.”

  “So what about you?”

  “My first car wasn't a car. It was a Harley. Piece of junk on two wheels, but I put the work in, made it something special.” And he'd never taken it to the junkyard. Instead he'd parked it in his garage once he'd bought the house.

  “Do you have any brothers or sisters?” Caroline asked.

  Buster hesitated. In the scheme of getting-to-kn
ow-you conversations, questions about siblings were pretty much run of the mill. Still, he never quite new how to answer. Most times he'd simply change the subject, it was too personal, but he found himself answering honestly. “I've got a brother and a sister, both younger. I had an older sister but she passed when we were younger.”

  “I'm so sorry.”

  “Don't be sorry. It was a long time ago. I don't see much of my family now.” Or any of them at all, but that sounded cold and was definitely too deep for a first date. “Do you see your family much?”

  “I used to. My parents moved to Florida last year. My father wasn't doing too well in the cold, so the doctor recommended a more mild climate. I think that Dad just wanted to be able to see more women in swimsuits.”

  “What's your mom think of that?” Buster asked.

  “I think she's more excited about seeing the shirtless men parading around in swim shorts. She sent me pictures from the beach last week, all hot guys with ink. Guess she knows my type.”

  “Why didn't you move with them?”

  “I like it here. Always wanted to live in the city. So, I stayed. Found a job and a crappy apartment. Found the job at Baked and the slightly less crappy apartment. I'm moving up. Only way I'd ever go back to live with them is if I had no other choice.”

  Any further conversation was halted as the waitress returned to the table. Except it wasn't the same woman before. Instead it was an amused-looking brunette. “Okay, who got what?” she asked.

  “The extra shrimp is mine. The one with the rabbit food is hers.”

  “Salad is not rabbit food. In fact, I don't even think rabbits are supposed to eat iceberg lettuce,” Caroline pointed out as the waitress set the plates down.

  “Actually, she's right about that.” The waitress winked at Caroline. “Can I get you lovely folks anything else, or should I leave you two to get back to your conversation?”

  “I think we're good. One question, though. What happened to Sara?”

  “Tara,” the waitress corrected Caroline. “And she had a little trouble with the rules, so tonight was her last shift. You were her last table, actually.” The woman smirked. “Oh, and Andy said to tell you that he hopes you enjoy your meal.”

  “Tell him thank you from both of us,” Buster told her. Andy was the owner, who he'd known for several years now.

  “I will. Enjoy your meal.”

  Caroline waited until the waitress was gone. “So, Tara got fired?”

  “Looks like. And I think you can be quite certain there's no spit in your food.”

  “That's awesome because this looks really great. And they sure gave you a lot of extra shrimp.”

  “Are you fishing for some of my shrimp?”

  “What? Me?” Caroline smiled widely. “I'd share my salad if you asked.”

  “I'm good without the salad, but I'll share.”

  The rest of the meal passed with comfortable conversation, shared food and finally a shared slice of chocolate cake for dessert. Buster liked the fact that Caroline ate, enjoyed the food without making any excuses for it. She even took the last bite when he offered it.

  “That was so good, Buster. Thank you.” Caroline wiped her hands on her napkin. “Do you know where the ladies' room is?”

  “I'll show you,” he offered. “I should find Andy and say hello.” He rose to his feet and held out his hand to her. She took it without hesitation. He wasn't one for holding hands, as a rule, but he didn't release Caroline's hand until they were at the bathroom. “He should be over by the bar. Come and find me there?”

  Buster did find Andy by the bar. “Hey. It's been too long.” He took the seat next to the man. “How have you been?”

  “I've been good, Buster. Real good. Business is booming. Speaking of which, dinner for you and your lady friend is on the house. The two of you looked quite sweet together.”

  “I appreciate that. How's your wife?”

  “Molly is fantastic. She's taking some art classes now. Filling the house with shit that she's made. It's a nightmare,” Andy confided. “But I tell her it's the loveliest thing I've ever seen. Love is about lying sometimes. That's my secret to a happy marriage.”

  Buster chuckled at that. “I'll keep that in mind. What happened with Tara?”

  “When one of the cooks spotted her, she was spitting on your date's order. I suspect that she had something else in mind for yours. I run a clean kitchen. It's rule number one.” Andy spoke with pride. “And I think you've kept your lovely companion waiting long enough.”

  “I suspect that you're right. I'll see you soon, Andy. Give this to the brunette who brought our food out. And as always, the food was fantastic.” Buster shook the man's hand and turned to scan the crowd for Caroline. He spotted her coming out of the bathroom. She'd added some sort of gloss to her lips and fussed with her hair. He watched her cross the room to where he stood. “You ready to go?”

  “Shouldn't we go back to the table for the check?”

  “It's been taken care of.”

  “I've just got to grab my jacket, I left it on my chair. I'll be right back.” Buster enjoyed the view as she walked over to the table. A very tempting strip of her abdomen was revealed when she pulled it on, and she noticed him watching. She looked nervous for a second, but then she smiled and took money out of her jeans pocket and laid it on the table.

  “Did you not trust me to tip?” he asked when she came back over.

  “Of course not, I just happen to know that people who live on tips always need more tips. I hope I didn't offend your manliness because trust me, I find you quite manly.”

  “Good to know.” Unable and unwilling to resist, Buster leaned in and brushed his lips against hers. She tasted like mint and strawberries. He kept the kiss light, waited for her to pull away, but she didn't. Instead she moved a step closer to him, opened her mouth to him but pulled back when he deepened the kiss.

  “People are watching,” she whispered.

  Buster shifted to press his lips to her forehead. “Sorry. I guess I got carried away.”

  “Don't apologize. I almost forgot about the people myself.” She reached out, entwined her fingers with his. “Do you think we can take the long way back to my place?”

  “I think that can be arranged.”

  Chapter Four

  Caroline deleted yet another automated message thanking her for her interest in an already filled position. Job searching was a special sort of torture. She'd already lowered her standards, applied for retail jobs and several waitress positions, but so far, no one wanted her. Well, that wasn't strictly true. Buster wanted her. She knew it and the thought of it was enough to lift her spirits. She wanted him, too. She wanted him bad. It had been entirely too long since she'd had sex, or wanted to have sex, for that matter.

  She tossed her phone aside, got off of the bed and walked out into the living room. Jillian was home, but she was in her bedroom. Caroline heard the sound of gunfire. It seemed her roommate was relieving some stress by blowing zombies or enemy soldiers to bits. She walked back into her room, quickly changed into the clothes she liked to run in and headed out the door.

  Caroline had no destination in mind when she started out, but she soon realized that she was taking a longer route. It was her subconscious letting her know that she had something to work out. She'd been avoiding thinking too deeply about Buster, focusing more on the way he made her warm and fuzzy. But she'd felt warm and fuzzy before, and that had ended badly.

  It had been bad enough for her to think that she was broken. She'd felt broken. It was hard to say when she'd stopped feeling that way, but she'd realized it one morning at Baked. She had just taken a batch of carrot cake muffins out of the oven, and it had hit her, she was living life again. And she was happy. Her life hadn't been much, but it was enough for her.

  Now she'd lost her job. Every day that passed, her savings account dwindled down a little more. There could be no more eating out or impulse movie purchases. Just the basics.
Just for now. Caroline knew that if she asked, her parents would send her some money, but it would come at a price. They'd start the pressure again, wanting her to move closer to them. She didn't want that. She wanted her own life, even if she knew why they worried.

  Three years ago, when she'd first been broken, she hadn't been able to get out of bed. Showering had been too much effort. Eating had been too much effort. It had taken months before she was better, and by then she'd had an eviction notice on her door and no job. She'd been forced to move back in with them. They'd worried ever since. It was why she hadn't told them about Baked. Instead she'd told them that she was still working hard and had even been able to move into a nicer place. Caroline had even told her mother about Buster, just to prove that things were great.

  And she'd just wanted to talk about Buster to someone who would listen without judging. As much as she was growing to love Jillian, her friend wasn't exactly supportive when it came to Buster. Caroline didn't get Jillian's attitude towards Nightshade, and she wasn't sure that she wanted to. She wanted to just enjoy what she was feeling with him, what he made her feel.

  Caroline passed the halfway point of her route, an old abandoned church that gave her the creeps every time. She turned back around, started for home. She heard a motorcycle coming up on her before she saw it. Her increased heart rate had nothing to do with the running. Maybe it was Buster, though she highly doubted it would be. What were the odds? And when the bike passed, she saw it wasn't him.

  The bike was all blacked out, no shine to it at all. The rider was also dressed in black, with a full face helmet. Caroline caught sight of a patch on his back: black, silver and red. She's never seen it before. In fact, it gave her such a sour feeling in her stomach that she couldn't maintain her pace. Caroline breathed in and out deeply.

  She was just walking now. The sour feeling had caused a stitch in her side. She kept her pace brisk but she no longer cared about clearing her head with a run. Instead, she just wanted to get to Jillian's, to get home and feel safe.