“You only have to tell me to stop, cariño, sweetheart.” I lowered my voice and looked up at Mac when no reply came. “But I really hope you don’t.”
Once my hands reached the middle of her thigh, I stopped and released the garter. I felt the heat radiating from her core, and, with my large hand on her inner thigh, my fingertips touched the material of her panties. I wanted nothing more than to push the material aside and slide my fingers through her warmth and let the heat of her engulf them. Instead, I pulled my hands away, sat her foot on the ground, and straightened her dress where my actions had pushed the hem up. Then I stood.
“Dance with me, cariño?” I asked and held my hand out.
Mac paused a moment. “What’s all this about, Emery?” she asked as she placed her hand in mine.
“Do you know the belief behind the garter being placed on the woman who catches the bouquet?”
“Seriously, you’re interested in wedding traditions?” The way Mac’s brows furrowed and the intense way she stared me in the eyes, I wouldn’t have been surprised if I actually saw gears moving. She was trying to figure me out, and it wasn’t working well for her.
“So, do you know or not?” I pressed.
“Ugh, are you telling me you honestly believe the woman who catches the bouquet becomes the next to marry? Then yes, who hasn’t heard that tale.”
“It isn’t only about the woman who catches the bouquet. The man who catches the garter will be the one she marries.” I kept my face blank as I looked down at her.
“How much have you had to drink? You’re acting strange even for you.”
I hadn’t been able to keep my lips from twitching. The woman had no clue. The more she pushed me, the more I’d push back.
“Considering you run in the other direction when you see me. How would you know how I act? Have you been watching me, Mac, when I’m not looking?”
She tried to pull her hand from mine, but I tightened my grip and wouldn’t allow it.
“One experience with your arrogance was enough. Why would I want to come back for more?"
“Just once if you would’ve given me a chance before you took off in the opposite direction, you might’ve been shocked and received an apology. I’ll admit my reaction to your offer to pay for lunch in the diner that day was a bit—”
“Over the top. Dickish. Assholish. Being a big jer—"
“I wouldn’t go that far, Doc.”
“Oh, now I’m doc and not sweetheart, love, honey, or baby. But I guess it beats bitch.”
I was unable to keep the grin off my face. “Understand Spanish, do you? And for the record, I’ve never called you a bitch. What I said to you that day was to stop bitching, or I was going to turn you over my knee and spank your ass. Which I might still do if you don’t stop glaring at me as if you’re trying to make me burst into flames.”
“Entender y hablar un poco de español, idiota! Understand and speak some Spanish, idiot. And you wouldn’t dare spank me,” Mac said defiantly.
“Oh, but I would, cariño. Then, I’d kiss those cheeks before fucking you until we both passed out.”
“Oh my God, you’re too much. I apologize for calling you an idiot. But damn it, you piss me. One minute you’re pulling a garter up my thigh, talking some nonsense about marriage traditions, calling me sweetheart in Spanish, then you’re talking about what you’re going to do to me,” Mac said and looked around, I assumed to see if anyone had overheard as we stopped at the edge of the makeshift dance floor. “What do you want from me, Emery?”
“That’s a loaded question. Come on, Mac, let’s start with a dance.” The current song was ending, and I moved us into the group still dancing before she had time to react.
When Slow Hands by Niall Horan started, Mac reached up and placed her hands around my neck, and I wrapped my arms around her waist and pulled her close into my body for the slow song. With my height and bulk compared to her small stature, we shouldn’t work, but we did. She felt right in my arms.
“No one can predict the future,” I said offhandedly as I breathed her in.
“Huh?”
No way was I going to try to explain to her that my thoughts were stuck on if there was any truth in the old wise tale of the bouquet and garter toss recipients marrying. Instead, I answered, “Nothing. Listen. Feel.”
As we rocked and swayed, I leaned my head down until my face rested in the crook of Mac’s neck. Her hair was pulled up into some kind of twist that left her neck exposed, and I planned to take full advantage. With the lightest of touches, I ran my lips up her soft skin until I reached her ear. When my lips closed over the lobe of her ear, I bit gently and sucked. Mac moaned softly, and her body melted more into mine.
The taste of her, the smell, everything about her had me as lost in her as she was in me. The fingertips of her hands skimmed my neck, touched, and ran through my hair over and over.
As the song played, I whispered some of the lyrics to her as my hands traveled up and down the skin of her back, left bare from the dress she wore. There was just the two of us, nothing around us mattered. I wanted every word in the song to be about us. And I most certainly had no intention of leaving without her on me as the song says.
“Come home with me, Mac. I want your naked body wrapped around me. I want to feel us skin against skin. I want to taste every inch of you, feel the heat as I enter you and take us both up and over the edge. Then I want to do it all again.”
“Oh God, Emery.”
“Say yes, Mac. Let me take you and bring you to orgasm until you’re gasping for breath and hoarse from screaming my name.”
I kissed down her neck, across her collarbone while my hands traveled to her waist and up until my thumbs touched and caressed the outer curve of her breasts. I nibbled her chin as I made my way to her mouth, sucked her bottom lip between my teeth and bit down gently, only to slide my tongue across to take away the sting.
“Emery, please—” Mackenzie stopped talking when a chime came from a phone.
“Don’t answer it,” I said and captured her lips. When my tongue pushed through, she groaned, and as quick as the kiss started, it ended.
Mac leaned away just enough to shove her hand into the ‘V’ of her dress. When she brought her hand out, it held a ringing cellphone. She looked at the screen, and after a swipe of her thumb, she moved the phone to her ear.
“Dr. Minton,” Mac answered as I released her from my arms and maneuvered us out of the crowd. Our moment broken.
A man’s voice could be heard, but I couldn’t make out what he said. I stopped us at the far end of the clubhouse away from the speakers that were blasting the music.
“That’s great, Neal. Yes, there’s no need to panic, you got this. Sarah will be fine. Just keep thinking that when it’s over, you will get to hold your son. I’ll meet you at the hospital, Dad. And don’t forget to put mom in the car.” Mac chuckled and smiled at whatever the man said, then disconnected the call. “I’ve got to go.”
“I heard.”
“I’m sorry. I... I—”
“Why, because you have to do your job?”
“No, I... I’m not sure I can do this.” She waved her hand between us. “And crap, I don’t have time to discuss it right now. I need to leave.”
“You’ve been running, and I don’t understand why, but it stops. I want you, Mac, and I intend to have you. But I can wait a little longer.”
“I don’t know how long it will take. Sarah is a first time—”
“Mac!” I raised my voice to cut her off before she spiraled out of control, thinking about the possibility of us when she had a job to do.
“What?”
“Go deliver the baby. You and I will finish what we started sooner rather than later.” When Mac opened her mouth to speak, I held up my hand. “I can stand here and watch you while you walk to your car and leave. Or I can walk you to your car, bend you over the hood, hike that little dress up, and—”
“I’m going,�
�� was the only thing Mac said as she turned and walked briskly toward her car.
I grinned and stood at the edge of the clubhouse until I lost sight of her taillights. Instead of going back to the party, I headed toward my place. I’d give her a couple of hours, then I would head to the hospital and wait for her. No matter how long the delivery took.
The feeling of contentment was with me as I stepped into my house. As I closed the door, my phone rang, and I pulled it out of my pocket and glanced at the screen. I answered the call with the swipe of my thumb, but unlike Mac’s call, I knew mine wasn’t going to make me happy.
Chapter One
Coast
Riding across the tribal lands, I glanced around. The only light came from my lone headlight, or the occasional light shining in a resident’s yard. Even under the cover of night, I knew I passed areas where the housing was nothing more than hovels lined up. Poverty ran high on the reservation. And it wasn’t the first time I rode through and was thankful my dad had chosen to fight for me.
If I’d grown up on the reservation, I knew in my heart I would have either ended up in prison as my mom’s dad had, who eventually died after being shanked in the prison yard. Or I would have died from an overdose like my mom had and her mother before her.
I’d visited the reservation at least twice a year since I turned two. At first, my dad would bring me and stay. By the time I reached my teens, he would drop me off, then return for me no longer than a week later.
After I joined the military, my visits became far and few between depending when I made it home on leave. Since leaving the military, I’d only visited twice and stayed only a couple days each time.
Within an hour of receiving the call that hampered my plans of surprising Mac after Jag and River’s wedding celebration, I packed a few things in my saddlebags, spoke with my dad, and was on the road. Mac would have to wait.
The ride to the reservation had only taken me a few hours, but the miles had been lonely. Both my dad and Flirt had volunteered to make the trip with me, but I declined the offers. I needed the alone time on my bike to work through the feelings I held for Mac. Wanting her was easy. And I knew I could get her in my bed, it was keeping her there. I wanted what my brothers had found with their women. In my heart, I knew Mac was mine. Convincing her that I was hers would be the test on my patience.
The closer I got to my great grandfather’s place, the more ashamed of myself I became. Kiyaya Young was the only person from my maternal side who still lived. He was one of the few who ever gave a shit that I existed. I owed him more than the occasional visit. He was the only reason I visited the reservation over the years. Because of him, I had the knowledge of my ancestry, spoke some of the Sahaptin dialect, and had an understanding of tribal life. He was smart, stubborn, and a hardass. And he’d be mad as hell when I showed up on his doorstep.
When I rode my bike up to Kiyaya’s small wooden home, I no sooner shut it down, and a low wattage light on the porch turned on, followed by the front door being opened. My great grandfather’s form filled the doorway. He was one hundred percent Native American and looked every bit the part of an aging warrior.
At eighty-nine, his hair was white, and his face was covered in weathered skin. I knew if I saw him from behind, his ponytail would be braided and reach the middle of his back. If not for the weathered skin of his face and the white hair, most wouldn’t be able to come close in guessing the man’s age.
I dismounted my bike as he stepped out onto the porch. He was tall and lean, and the expression on his face was not of a happy man.
“Damn, Suni. That woman needs to mind her own business,” he said half the words in English and the other half in his native language. When he combined the two languages, it was a definite sign that he was pissed.
So, of course, I responded with a smile on my face, “Eh, nice to see you, too, old man.”
“Ain’t you got better shit to do than coming here to harass me? It’s time you found a woman. Settled down and had a few kids.”
I chuckled and grabbed my saddlebags. “Who says I don’t have a woman? I haven’t been here in eight months. Besides, do you think it’s a good idea for you to be outside?” I asked as I walked toward the porch.
He huffed and turned around and went inside. I followed and shut the door behind me.
“Do you have a áyat, woman?” he asked as he walked to the stove.
“Not yet. I’m working on it.”
“What’s there to work on? You find a áyat, then you make her yours.” He poured heated water into a cup and stirred it before turning and setting it on the table.
“Is that how you caught Aahna?”
He smiled, then started coughing. I walked to him and pulled a chair out and helped him to sit. After the coughing spell was over and he’d taken a drink of whatever was in his cup, he answered, “Your great grandmother was a strong and beautiful woman. Many tried to gain her attention. It had been my honor to have been chosen by her. A man needs a strong ásham, wife, by his side.”
“I can’t argue with that,” I said, chuckling as I moved to the other side of the open area toward the door to the second bedroom.
“Why would you? I am right.”
I shook my head and snorted. “What are you doing up so late?”
“Fixin’ tea. Can’t sleep for the coughing.”
I dropped the bags by the door that led into the second bedroom, then pulled my gloves off and stuffed them in the pockets of my jacket before I slipped it off and hung it on the doorknob.
The wooden home had two small bedrooms, a bathroom, and one open area that had the kitchen on one side and the living room on the other. I looked around, and nothing had changed since the last time I had been there.
“Damn, no wonder you’re sick. It’s fucking cold in here.” I glanced at the wood-burning stove in the corner that should have been in use but wasn’t. “There a reason you’re not burning the stove?”
“Ran out of chopped wood this morning and wasn’t up to cutting any.”
“There are enough unemployed fuckers around here that would gladly chop some wood for a few bucks,” I said as I reached for my jacket.
“Why should I waste money paying someone when I’m capable of doing it myself?” he asked, then broke out coughing.
I pulled my jacket back on and shook my head. “Because you are sick. Suni is worried about you,” I answered and moved to the backdoor.
“She worries too much. It is a cold. That’s all.” I looked over my shoulder and lifted a brow. “Grab the lakayxit'áwas, lamp, on the counter. The light on the back porch doesn’t work.”
I was ready with a remark about him being stubborn, but he’s last words stopped me. How many more things needed to be fixed around his home?
Oh, I’d fix a few things when I blew through; a leaky faucet, a board on a porch step if I felt it give. I’d even stock him up on nonperishables supplies, then be on my way. Not for the first time, I felt shame. I said he was the only family I had left from my maternal side without a thought to being his only family.
Born and raised on the reservation, Kiyaya would never leave, but it didn’t mean I couldn’t have been a better grandson.
He stood as I grabbed the lantern off the counter. “I think I’m going to lay down. I’m tired.”
I nodded, opened the door, and stepped out, pulling it closed behind me. Once the lantern was lit, I walked to the woodpile and positioned the lantern for optimum light. Then I jerked the ax out of the log, and started splitting wood. Nothing like physical labor to clear my head.
As the chopped woodpile grew, the more things became apparent. I’d wasted good energy on despising a mother who’d had no interest in me from the time I was conceived. Drugs and alcohol had been her top priorities. If not for my dad making her stick around the club and keeping her away from drugs or drinking until I was born, who knew what would have happened to me.
After I was born, Aponi, my mother, turned me over t
o my dad and hightailed it back to the reservation. The place she’d run away from looking for something better. I hadn’t realized how much energy I’d wasted on a woman who died before I reached the age of two. It was long past the time to let her go from my head. I’d spent far too much of my life carrying the burden of not being reason enough for her to stay clean.
I stuck the ax back in the log, loaded my arms with enough wood to start the stove, and headed back to the house. Once the stove was stoked and heat filled the room, I headed to the bedroom. When I laid my head on the pillow and closed my eyes, exhaustion took me under.
The front door opened, then closed on my great grandfather’s house while I sat in one of the two chairs on the small porch. Suni White, one of the elders of the tribe and the one who called me the day before, holding out a mug in front of me.
“He’s resting,” Suni said as I reached for the mug. She then sat in the chair beside me.
“How long has he been sick?”
“Ah, you know Kiyaya. He keeps to himself and doesn’t want to be a burden to anyone. His stubborn streak has always been wide. I stopped by last week to check in on him, he was coughing, and I could hear rattling in his chest. I offered to take him to the clinic, but he refused and argued with me. The more I pushed, the more upset he got, and then he went into a coughing fit, so I dropped it. He told me he was using his own medicines.”
I rubbed my hand down my face, then leaned forward and rested my elbows on my knees, holding the cup between my hands. “Yeah, ‘cause a few herbs in a burlap pouch setting on his chest and boiled into tea is the cure-all. Let’s not forget to add the burning incense to the list of remedies. I woke to the smell of the damn incense after only four hours of sleep. Hell, it might not cure him, but he’d feel better if he ground those damn leaves in a glass of Jack Daniels.”
Suni chuckled. “Now you know why I called you, Emery.”
I turned my head and looked at the older woman. Her face wrinkled with age. Her long gray hair pulled back in a braid that fell down her back. Suni’s dark brown eyes stared back at me, and they held knowledge, wisdom, truth, and compassion in their depths.
Coast (Black Hawk MC Book 6) Page 2
