by Naomi West
“No, it's not that,” Star said, shaking her head again. “I mean, different from what I wanted. What I still want.”
Patricia rolled her eyes. “So, every single thing about every single person has to be perfect, and exactly as you imagined in your little dream-world fantasy? Girl, it's hard work to share a life with someone you love. Even Mr. Wiggles gets on my nerves sometimes.”
“Hey,” Star said, “I never said I loved him.”
“Oh?” Patricia replied with a knowing grin. “Well, I don't think I've ever asked. So, do you?”
“Love him?” Star asked.
“Well . . .?”
“Well . . .”
“Spit it out, girl!” Patricia said, frustrated at the dancing around.
“Yeah,” she said, nodding slowly. She looked up at her friend. “I think I do.”
“Star, honey,” Patricia said, reaching across the table to touch her hand, “life never turns out exactly the way we expect. Do you think I originally wanted to end up with Mr. Wiggles as my life partner? I've always been a dog girl.”
Star laughed. “But you love Mr. Wiggles.”
“Exactly. But, I never would have known that if I hadn't just lived my life and taken a chance.”
Star rolled her eyes again. “I can't believe I've sunk so low that I'm taking relationship advice from a crazy prematurely-old cat lady.”
“Prematurely-old cat ladies give the best relationship advice. The kitty cats whisper the answers to all life's questions to us at night. Their sweet purrs are actually genuine words of wisdom.”
“Shut up, Patricia,” Star said, holding back her laughter.
Patricia grinned and readjusted her glasses. “So, you going to go find him? Do I get to witness the ending of one of those rom-coms? Or am I stuck with you ‘til my dying day?”
“There'd have to be some comedy first, wouldn't there? Home invasions and abductions don't exactly fit into that kind of film. But, yeah, I'll go find him. Happy now?”
“Yes,” Patricia said as her cat, a fat white tom, jumped up into her lap and began purring for attention. “And so is Mr. Wiggles.”
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Star
Star spent the next hour or so getting ready, including a shower with a fresh razor up and down her legs. She picked a nice skirt and top, something she felt sexy in, with some risqué underwear. If things went as planned, Tanner would appreciate them.
That was, of course, if things went according to plan.
Star got in her little hatchback and drove out to the Old Crow, first. She steeled herself in the parking lot before going in. Jethro luckily remembered her from her earlier job application, but shook his head at her question about Tanner.
“Nope. Ain't seen him today. Check down at the clubhouse. He's been there or at his ma's house most days, lately.”
If Jethro knew anything about what had been going on between her and Tanner, his acting was good enough that he'd have been up for an Oscar come January.
“Thanks,” Star said. “Mind giving me directions out there? It's my first time.”
“Sure,” Jethro said and began drawing out a small, stripped down map on a cocktail napkin for her.
She took the makeshift directions from him, then walked back out to her car. She got in on the driver's side, took another deep breath, and started the old beater up. It surged to life, then sputtered but kept running.
Her nerves were wrecked. She hadn't realized how nervous she was until she'd actually walked into the bar to find Tanner. Now, all her worries about how he would react, whether they could fix their problems, and if he would accept her back into his life, began to rear their ugly head. She really hoped she hadn't screwed everything up.
She put the car in drive, pulled it around, and hopped back on the highway. She glanced down at her napkin-map and headed for the Blood Warriors clubhouse.
Twice, Star almost pulled the car over and just turned around. Twice, though, she kept her foot on the gas pedal and kept going. This was the right thing to do, she reminded herself, the right thing for her future child, and the right thing for her. Tanner was a good man, if a little rough around the edges. She loved him; she cared about him.
And, God, those abs, and those arms. And that smile of his.
She realized, too, how much she missed his bike. Driving in the car just wasn't the same. A car was like an extension of your living room, a little protected box with a radio and an air-conditioner, that kept you separated from the world.
On Tanner's bike, she had felt connected to everything. Every little bump in the road, the tang of the exhaust that smelled like tar, the sting of the wind on her face. Driving in a car kept you from the world, made you separate and apart.
She braked as, up ahead, she saw the turn-off Jethro had marked on the map. She pulled over onto the narrow, paved back road and began searching for the clubhouse. According to the map, it was nestled a ways back from the main road.
Less than a quarter-mile down the road, she saw the array of wood and steel buildings with the parking lot full of motorcycles. She pulled in and parked next to a row of hogs, her little rundown hatchback looking even more out of place.
She saw Tanner's bike parked near the front door, seemingly in a place of honor.
Good, he was here. She put both hands on the steering wheel and took a deep breath as reality began to descend on her.
Fuck, he was here. Her stomach twisted into knots. Not even two hours ago, Patricia had sent the poor guy away from her door. Star had been avoiding him, ignoring him, for weeks. What was she thinking? What was she even doing here? She had no right.
She took another deep breath. It was going to be okay. Everything was going to be okay. What was the worst that could happen, anyways? That he sent her away? Clearly he still wanted her around.
She got out of the car and headed up to the clubhouse's front entrance. It was a simple set of double metal doors, the kind you saw on buildings like this. To the right of the door was a buzzer for the doorbell.
She thought about just barging in, but figured that might be too presumptuous. She wasn't his ol' lady, and even then she didn't know if that would have been allowed. After all, she wasn't, and never would be, part of the MC. Women weren't eligible.
So, instead, Star took another deep breath and pressed the doorbell. Chimes rang somewhere deep inside the building, but nothing, and no one, seemed to stir within.
A couple minutes passed. She kept waiting, hoping that Blade or Cam would be the ones to answer. They were the only two she'd met, other than that one time on the back of Tanner's bike after their first time together. She shuffled her feet, hoping they would hurry up and get to the door, so she could just hurry up and see Tanner. They rode fast everywhere. They should walk just as fast, too.
Finally, after what seemed like ages, footsteps sounded on the other side of the door. A moment later, a pair of burly bikers pushed the door open. She glanced over their faces, but didn't recognize either of them.
She swallowed dryly as she looked up into their big, masculine faces.
“What?” one of them, a big guy with a shaved head, barked.
“Who the fuck are you?” sneered the other, a shorter, but nearly as thick, man with a long, shaggy mustache.
“I-I-I'm,” she stuttered out, her dry tongue twisting around her own words, “looking for Tanner Rainier.”
“Don't know him, doll-face,” said Baldy. He turned to his buddy. “I bet she's selling magazine subscriptions or some shit.”
Didn't know Tanner? What the hell was going on? This had to be the right place. She'd followed Jethro's instructions to the T. She was sure she hadn't shown up at some other club by accident. There couldn't be that many active clubs in the county!
“Magazine subscriptions?” Mustache asked him. “Like them girly mags?”
“Yeah,” Baldy said, punching his buddy in the shoulder. “I got the internet, though. Don't think I need 'em anymore.”
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“Not unless she's in 'em,” said Mustache, a big grin spreading on his face as he nodded at Star. “So, tell us, you at the center of your magazines, honey?”
“I, um, I'm not selling any magazines. I'm looking for Tanner. Or Blade? Can I talk to Blade?”
Baldy looked her up and down as she fumbled for her words. “Nah, she ain't in them magazines of hers. Bet she's a cop. She's coming in here looking for some shit on us, I reckon.”
Well this had taken a wrong turn somewhere along the way.
She took a step back. “Me?” she asked, genuine surprise entering her voice, making her words squeak. “You think I'm a cop?”
Oh God, she hoped they weren't going to strip her and start looking for a wire. She didn't think she could handle something like that. Not today of all days.
Both men dead on locked their eyes on her.
She gulped.
And, then, just as Star was certain she was going to be frisked and patted down for hidden clandestine electronics, Baldy and Mustache both burst into raucous, belly-shaking laughter.
Baldy leaned back and shouted into the clubhouse. “Tanner-boy! Your ol' lady's here!”
“Sorry, just having a little fun, darlin'.” Mustache threw the door wide for her, saying, “Of course we know who you are, Star. Come on in.”
Not sure if she should smile at their jokes, or be mortified, Star shuffled between them and into the clubhouse.
“Tanner!” Baldy shouted again. “Tanner, come on!”
“I'm coming, Slick. I'm coming,” Tanner said as he came out of the back of the clubhouse.
He stopped in his tracks when his eyes fell on her. The corner of his lip tilted up in a half-smile, like he couldn't show it all in front of his buddies.
She had to keep her jaw from hitting the floor. Her memories of him hadn't done the reality justice. His grizzled jaw line, his sculpted arms, how tightly his shirt hugged his body, the way he stalked like a wolf as he moved.
Their eyes locked, and she felt herself fall into the deep, still waters of that icy blue gaze of his.
She'd almost forgotten his eyes, and how she felt when she looked into them. How they seemed to hypnotize her and eliminate distractions from the rest of the world.
Already, she could feel the need building in her. The need for his arms to be around her, to hold her tight. For his hands and lips to be on her body, for him to be inside her.
“Hi,” Tanner said, coming a couple steps closer, seemingly unsure of himself, or like he was approaching something he knew to be a mirage.
“Hey,” Star said, taking a few of her own. She didn't know what to say. She'd thought about what words she'd planned to use on the drive over, had considered what she would tell him when she found him. But all that planning was out the window, now. “I . . . I missed you,” she muttered.
Silence filled the air. Even Mustache and Baldy had grown quiet as they watched the reunion. But, only for a moment. They were bikers, of course.
“Young love.” Mustache said as he reached up and wiped an imaginary tear from his eye. “So sweet.”
Tanner turned his glare to the two men. “Why the fuck don't y'all clear out of here for a few minutes? Go down and have a couple beers on my tab, or work on your bikes or some shit?”
“You're no fun,” Baldy said. “I was hoping for a Hallmark moment. I popped popcorn and everything.”
“Fuck off,” Tanner said as he came over and wrapped an arm around her waist.
“Whatever,” Mustache said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “We'll just take ourselves elsewhere, then. Somewhere where we're appreciated.”
Both men disappeared through the front entrance as Tanner lead Star deeper into the clubhouse, and back into what looked like a meeting room with a giant Blood Warriors banner hanging from the wall. Not saying a word, he shut the door behind them and went and took a seat at the edge of the center table.
“I . . .” Tanner began, licking his lips as he looked her up and down with those intense eyes of his, “I missed you, too.”
She exhaled a giant sigh of relief. Then, she went to him.
She nearly melted as he pulled her into his strong, caring, protective arms and kissed her.
His lips were just as soft as she remembered, and his tongue just as insistent, as his hands tangled in her hair and pulled them together.
All the troubles, all the pain, all the turmoil melted away as she found herself in his arms again. Everything was going to be alright.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Tanner
He savored her lips, the way she felt in his arms. He'd never realized he could miss anyone so much, had never imagined something like this could be possible. He was supposed to be a loner, a guy who only had ties to his MC. A man who was responsible only to his comrades and himself.
But, when he felt her warm body pressed against his, her soft, pouting lips crushed beneath his, he realized where he really belonged and what his purpose really was.
His tongue already dancing with hers, he moved a hand down from her hair to her ass. He massaged her, his hand roaming up and down her backside, reminding himself of what she'd felt like the first time they'd been together. It was all still there, and just as perfect as the last time he'd touched it.
They broke their kiss, and his lips began to travel down her neck. He kissed her passionately, reveling in the taste of her skin, his teeth coming out to nip at her skin.
“God, I missed you,” she moaned as her hands traveled up and down his back. “I missed you so much.”
He pressed his mouth back to hers, kissing her with force as his other hand joined its partner on her ass and pulled her into him. She moaned and pressed herself into him as they continued to kiss, their tongues chasing after one another.
He growled deep in his throat, his body admitting its need. Already rock-hard, he needed a release, and needed one since the moment she’d stepped into his arms.
She moaned as he gripped her ass tight, lifted her off the ground, and switched spots with her so she was on the edge of the table.
She spread her legs and pulled him in between them, grinding herself on his hard, denim-covered length. Clearly, she wanted and needed him just as badly.
He kissed her again, his hands traveling down to the front of her blouse. He began to unbutton her shirt, baring her warm flesh to him, and her hands flew down the front of her shirt, helping him to undo the buttons.
Still kissing her, he ran his hands up and down her sides, her naked back, her beautiful stomach where his child was growing. She reached up and unhooked the front of her bra, allowing her breasts to spill out.
Tanner cupped a breast, swirled the rough skin of his palm over her nipple. He pulled them lightly with his fingers, teasing her till she gave him a throaty moan of enjoyment.
She arched into him as she sucked his lower lip into her mouth and, smiling, gently bit down.
Pleasure mixed with pain made him groan, and he pulled her lower body against his. He lightly pinched her nipple again, eliciting a sharp, delighted moan from those luscious lips of hers.
“I just want to taste you,” he groaned between kisses. “To make sure you're real.”
“Oh, I'm real, alright,” she replied with a wicked grin as her hand dipped and began to stroke the crotch of his jeans. Her fingers danced up and down his length, playing with and teasing his throbbing head.
He kissed her again before dropping to his knees in front of her. He reached beneath the hem of her skirt, entranced by what he'd been missing for all these weeks.
She leaned back on her hands and lifted her ass off the table as he pulled off her panties, then hooked a leg over his shoulder.
He gripped her thigh tight in one hand and dipped his mouth down to her honeypot. There was just something about her, about the way she quivered as he explored her with his tongue, the way she trembled as he pleasured her.
Purring as he kissed her inner thigh, as he breathed hotly on he
r sex and squeezed her leg tighter,she put a hand at the back of his head and began to stroke his hair as he licked up and down her lips.
He took his time, enjoying this moment with her. He hadn't seen her in weeks, even though he knew she was near every time he stopped by Patricia's. He could almost hear her breathing, almost feel her presence as he stood outside her friend's front door. Now, as he swirled his tongue around her clit and gently sucked her sensitive little nub between his lips, he knew that there was no other place he'd rather be than by his ol' lady's side.
