His joking pulled a laugh from her, and he smiled. From the corner of his eye, he saw Tug’s face relax. Got it in one. He reached out and, with thumb and finger, gripped the corner of her menu, drawing it out of her hands. Laying it on the table in front of him, he asked, “Water, tea, or soda pop?”
That gift she gave Tug earlier, she now gave to him, looking at him with laughter in her eyes, broad smile in place, lips stretched in pleasure. That same beautiful lilt in her voice, she asked, “Soda pop?”
“I’m from the south,” he said by way of explanation, and she gifted him again, this smile even brighter. Do nearly anything to have that again.
“Sometimes soft drinks, but today water. I’m always dehydrated after I ride.” Her hands had been resting quietly on the table until she glanced down at them. She grimaced at something and pulled them out of sight. Hoss could see the muscles and tendons in her arms moving and guessed she was twisting her hands into balls in her lap. Jesus, being this torqued over can’t be comfortable. She can’t be happy like this. He remembered the moment she’d folded her hand in his when he entered her home, remembered how soft and delicate her fingers felt in his hold. Hoss reached out and placed his hand on the table, palm up, waiting. How exhausting to be always on the lookout. Waiting and expecting, just looking for a trap or something to trip her up.
“Wind and breathin’,” Tug said, pulling her gaze to him. Hoss caught an expression of fond affection crossing her face, his artist’s eye noting every detail of how it changed her appearance, taking her beauty to another level. That was how a grandchild would look at a favorite grandparent, or a mother at a child. “Sucks the wet right outta ya.”
She nodded and then looked down at Hoss’ hand, brow wrinkling prettily as she frowned. She needs someone to shore her up, let her know she’s all right. She glanced up at his face and blinked adorably when he nodded then cut his eyes down towards his own hand, then back up to capture her gaze again. Slowly, her arm raised as she brought her right hand up out of her lap, reached out across the table and placed her hand into his. Her gaze lifted to meet his and he squeezed firmly, then relaxed to an easy grip. I can do that for you today, honey.
“Nothing you could do is wrong, Cassie. Not one of my boys is watching to see when you fuck up. All these people sitting at these tables are stuck in their own heads, talking about their own problems.” He held her gaze, not giving her a chance to turn and look around, understanding how it could ratchet up her anxiety again. Hoss knew his next sentence was a lie, because if Deke had recognized how Hoss’d been while on the road, then every man with them had seen it just by him sitting here. He didn’t care, but he didn’t want Cassie to worry about what it might mean. Fuck, I got no real idea my ownself. “Not one of them is watching me sitting here, holding your hand.”
From the corner of his eye, he saw Tug tip his head, indicating the waitress was headed their way. With a slow movement, Hoss straightened and squeezed Cassie’s hand one last time before he released her, turning in his seat to face the woman walking their way. How best to grow the comfort Cassie seems to be developing with me and Tug? “Three bacon cheeseburgers, no onions, with mayo. All with fries, whatever kind you got, and three glasses of water.” He glanced around the room, grasped she was the only waitress and winced at the thought of how her next hour would go. Fix this, too. Keep the friendly place friendly. “The tab for every one of my men comes to me.” He raised his voice to be heard throughout the room, conversation at every table ebbing for a moment as he spoke. “They better not jack around with you, or they’ll be talkin’ to me. They also better have their orders for bacon cheeseburgers ready when you get to the table, make life easy for ya.”
That earned him a smile from the middle-aged woman, along with a quick response of, “You got it.” The waitress turned and yelled back to the kitchen as she walked to the next table. “Fry me up some bacon, Daddy, throw some cow on the grill, yeah?”
A round little man popped his head out of the swinging door and looked around the diner, taking in the mass of men seated on every available chair.
“Got you, Mama,” the man called back, and then disappeared back into the kitchen.
Hoss twisted back in the seat and saw an expression on Cassie’s face that made him pause. He didn’t recognize her emotions until she spoke, the admiration clear in her tone. “Without telling anyone what to do, you just told everyone what to do, and in doing so made that woman’s work easier.” She grinned, that expression easy to catalog because she was nearly laughing. “That was amazing.”
An hour later, the men were beginning to trail to the parking lot, finishing up their food and making their way outside for a smoke or to their bikes. He glanced around to see rectangles of green on every table and grinned. Rebels weren’t stingy when it came to rewarding good service, and the waitress had been on top of everything, moving as fast as she could. Early on Deke had set the prospects to running too, weaving between the tables with pitchers of water, and bussing dirty dishes in between bites of their own burgers.
Deke paused at the end of their table, standing nearer to Hoss than Cassie, and Hoss marveled at how much both Deke and Tug knew about her as he realized Deke’s positioning was because of Cassie’s fears. “We’re rollin’ out, boss. Back at the house tonight, late. Lemme know if you need anything.”
Hoss tipped his chin. “Ride safe, brother,” he said, glancing around to see Tequila and Mojo standing behind Deke.
“Yeah, you do the same.” Deke gestured at the men, then said, “Not a corps, like we talked about, but everyone’s rolling heavy. You got yours?”
Surprised, because, like most members, he seldom left the clubhouse wearing colors without holstering his pistol, but it wasn’t something that they normally talked about openly. Hoss studied Deke for a moment, then let his gaze glance across Tequila and Mojo, noting their attentive stances. It was an honor to guard the president, but there were few threats he knew of this deep into the region. It’ll be an easy assignment. He frowned. “Yeah. I’m golden. You got a specific interest that you want to share?”
“Can’t be too careful.” That would be all the answer he got out of Deke, but if it was just caution, he could get behind it, for sure. They’d had their share of problems in the past, but that was where all the bad seemed to stay. In the past. It had been nearly five years since they had any major issues with clubs in the area or in any territory where the Rebels had rolled a chapter.
“I hear that,” he responded, then pointed up at him. “Cassie, did you officially meet Deke earlier?”
She nodded, gaze fixed on the table and he saw she had moved slightly closer to Tug. Only by a couple of inches, but he could see where she was squeezing to get further away from Deke. Hoss knew Deke saw it too when he lifted a hand, whirling it above his head as he moved away and called the rest of the men to their feet and out the door with the gesture. “Did you get to meet Tequila and Mojo?”
She shook her head, then glanced in his direction. His throat tightened for a moment when she didn’t lift her eyes past the center of his chest, staying focused on what must seem a safe place. I’ll be your safe place, baby. “No.”
“The beard here is Tequila. Watch out, rumor is he’s got a dang bird’s nest in that bristly fucker. Flattop there is Mojo, says his haircut keeps him pretty for the ladies.” In a stage whisper, Hoss told her, “No idea what that means, since I’ve never seen him with a lady, but I guess we needa let the man dream, yeah?”
She sliced a glance towards the two men then her gaze centered on his chest again as he saw the corners of her mouth curl the tiniest bit. Hoss’ belly warmed, knowing he had pulled a small smile from her at least. “What was your destination today, Cassie?”
She startled as Tugboat laughed, reaching out to pat her leg reassuringly. “She’s done her assignments. Locked in that fucking homework. Time to play, gal?” At Hoss’ questioning look, Tug elaborated. “She was supposed to ride south for a bit, gas u
p somewhere she didn’t know, find a place to eat, and then she could head home. Got that part done, took on more challenges ridin’ with your ugly ass, so she’s my star pupil.” He grinned. “Means now we can show her some fun roads, boss.”
Hoss pulled out his phone to check the time. They had taken more than an hour fueling and eating, which was a decent enough break, even for a new rider. He nodded, then asked, “How far?”
Tug glanced at her, then murmured quietly, giving Hoss discretion of where they went, trusting Hoss wouldn’t ask too much from the woman they’d both latched onto in different ways. “Couple hours to turnaround, gives us two to three to get her home, depending on direction.”
“Mary’s,” Hoss said, and the men all nodded while Cassie looked up, confused.
Hoss grinned and reached out, stretching his arm across the table. He waited patiently until she put her hand back in his. His skin tingled at the contact, and he gently rubbed his thumb across the backs of her knuckles until the tension fled from her fingers. Fuck, the trust this woman has inside her is depthless. “Saint Mary’s lake. Great winding roads around the edges. It’s not too small, not too big, nice for an afternoon’s ride. I wanna ride that with you, Cassie. We’ll have an escort”—he gestured at the men—“but you’ll be riding alongside me. Want that, darlin’? I do.”
“Oh.” She spoke softly, and Hoss sucked in a breath because her eyes were holding his. She wasn’t looking over his shoulder or at his chin. She was looking at him with eagerness and pleasure on her face. And with that unguarded expression, she had gone from beautiful to fucking breathtaking.
In all his life he had seen beauty like that but once.
It had appeared etched in the face and soul of a woman he’d loved more than life, a woman he’d fought hard to hold to and missed like fuck when she was gone. Those had been black days, the darkest. But, because of Hope’s loving legacy, he’d found enough light in his life to keep him filled right up with love. Remembering how she’d loved him, something he got to see in their kids every day, knowing he’d held the line to cling to the life they would have made together, it had filled him right up. A bittersweet love, poignant and hard.
Not that he didn’t still grieve for Hope, because a well of murky pain remained buried deep inside him. Even now, fifteen years later, the cold, gray weight of grief could swell to fill him up at the least provocation. Hoss had spent days fighting to stay above those waters, sometimes taking it breath by breath. He knew Hope would never have wanted him to be alone, would be pissed as fuck at him for leaving his bed cold, but Hoss had never believed he had more room in him for love. Thought he’d had his chance, had taken a gamble that left him rich beyond words with the memories they’d made together, but expected a man like him would only have the one shot.
That’s what he’d believed, telling himself he was happy with the memories of what he’d had. Convinced he’d never see the potential again.
All that time being wrong.
He knew it now, seeing Cassie light up at the idea of a fucking ride, her smile beaming across a diner table at him because he’d handled her desires with care. Beautiful.
Love.
You with me?
Cassie
Steering her bike to keep her riding just behind and beside Hoss, she grinned broadly, and lifted her chin into the wind. Unlike riding the highways down this morning, there was enough variety in the surfaces and views on the winding road around the lake that she wasn’t bored, and any tiredness had fled. Exhilarated would be more the right word, she thought, automatically slowing for the next turn.
Watching him as closely as she was, Cassie couldn’t miss the way he kept part of his attention on her, constantly checking on her in his mirrors or looking back with his chin over his shoulder. Attentively keeping her as safe as he could from his position leading their little party of five bikes. Glancing over her own shoulder, she found Tug was also watching her, his smile broad and proud. She returned the look, and then put her eyes front again, concentrating on riding.
Today had been an unexpected pleasure. And thinking back to what she had imagined when she first considered buying a bike, she realized that what she’d experienced so far was much more, far outstripping her novice expectations. It was a feeling she’d be hard put to describe, this freedom of total control, of successfully wrestling a machine so it behaved the way you wanted, all the while engaged within the world in a way that was a three-hundred-sixty-degree arc of immersion.
Lost in her thoughts, she didn’t react quickly enough to the next curve, her tires riding high outside the fog line before she leaned the bike deeply, gravel skittering loose underneath her wheels. If I slow down, the bike will stand up and I’ll go straight. She had a moment to think and then gave her engine more gas instead, bending further into the corner, bringing the bike back into the section of lane she had been riding. With a whooping breath, she sat up after they exited the corner and caught a concerned look from Hoss. Whatever he saw in her face reassured him and he gave her a thumbs-up, turning to face front again.
Tug was less sanguine about the incident, riding up beside her and shouting, “Get your fucking head out of your ass. You have to fucking ride, Cassie, not drift in your fucking head.” She nodded and he glared at her, then slowed to where he had been riding just to the left and behind her back wheel.
Fifteen minutes later, Hoss lifted a hand and she straightened in her seat, watching closely for whatever he was about to signal. His blinker came on and he pointed towards a small parking area ahead. She slowed, carefully riding single file onto the packed gravel of the lot. Once stopped, she watched him back his bike into half of a parking spot, then he motioned for her to do the same.
She pulled past the space, as he had done, then she twisted her head and body around, trying to push the bike backwards with her feet. Suddenly self-conscious of the bikes waiting on her, Cassie tried to rush. The sole of one boot skittered free, no grip in the gravel and she struggled to right the bike, holding it between her thighs as it threatened to topple over. Then her hand slipped on the throttle and the engine revved loudly. When she jerked in response, the engine suddenly cut off and she sat there for a moment, stunned. Glancing around, she saw the other men had already parked and she swallowed her embarrassment, pushed her bike backwards, and blew out a relieved breath when she finally glided to a slow stop next to Hoss’ bike.
Kickstand. She heeled it down and then tipped the bike over, making sure it was stable before she let go of the handlebars.
“Jesus, gal, you got a mouth on you,” Mojo muttered, walking to stand beside her front wheel. She glanced up at him and then back down. He cleared his throat, then in a lowered voice said, “Bike can sometimes be easier to back up after you kill it, when you don’t have the engine torqueing around under you. Don’t forget you hit the kill switch, though. That’s embarrassing when you go to start the bike and it just nnnnns and nnnnns.” He made whining noises, and she glanced up at him again. “Kill switch,” he repeated quietly, pointing to the lever beside her thumb and she realized why her bike had died. He thinks I did it on purpose.
“Oh, yeah. Thanks,” she responded softly, and even without her eyes on his face, she could tell he was grinning just from the light feel of the air.
“Nnnnn.” He made the noise again and reached out, his thumb pressed against the starter button. She jolted when her bike made the same noise, then looked up at him and grinned, startled at how his face changed when his expression grew soft. “There you go, gal,” he said gently, and she nodded, a sudden lump in her throat. It felt almost like the beginning of a panic attack, but was just different enough that it caught at her attention and she tried to dissect it, define it. “Definite mouth on ya, though,” he muttered again as he turned away, pulling a bottle of water out of his saddlebag and throwing it to her. “Not so prissy as I thought.”
Reflexively catching the bottle, she glanced around to find Tug grinning at her, as was Tequila.
Twisting the other direction, she noted Hoss had a broad smile on his face, too. “What?” she asked him, and if anything, his smile grew wider.
“Shit. Fuck. Shit. Crap, fucking shit. God fucking shit.” His tone was pitched high, falsetto, and the cadence wasn’t like his normal accent. She frowned at him, not understanding why he was cursing at her.
“What did I do wrong?”
“Well first, you got distracted. Way too deep in your head when you gotta be present when you’re riding. Hazards and risks can come at you from all sides. You need to not allow yourself to be one of those dangers. But, you did good, gal, read the wrong and fixed it right. Tucking into that corner deeper, pulling yourself back off that rabbit line.” Hoss’ gaze kept moving, dancing, glancing between her eyes and mouth, back to her eyes to make sure she heard him. She nodded. “But your mouth? I was twenty feet ahead of you, and I heard you. Hell, the people on that pontoon boat a quarter mile out probably heard you, too. Shit. Fuck. Shit. Crap. Fucking shit. God fucking shit.” He grinned and chuckled.
“Then here on the lot, you let the bikes behind you pressure you into moving before you were balanced. Gotta be sure of yourself or you’ll fuck up, every time. You nearly laid it down, and that really would have been embarrassing, yeah?” He paused, and she nodded, because he was right on every point. “Then you got flustered, flailing around and shit. And again with the mouth. Shit. Fuck. Shit. Crap. Fucking shit. Jesus fucking shit.” He grinned, then said, “I agree with Mojo. You got a mouth.”
She was suddenly sure she knew what he was saying, and her chin dropped. Her face was burning hot and she knew red had raced up her cheeks.
“Ain’t sayin’ it’s a bad thing, Cassie. It’s kinda cute, hearing that come out of your pretty mouth.” Hoss’ voice had dropped past a whisper; these words were for her alone. Her breath caught in her throat as she felt the heat from his skin. He moved to cover her hand, threading his fingers with hers before he squeezed and lifted her knuckles to brush softly against his lips. “Makes me wonder what else you do that would surprise me.”
Cassie Page 8
