I pushed back the memories, got my head together, and finally made it back to the shop at the club. I left the bag of coffees on the strip of counter by the entrance.
“Where the hell have you been?” Dready opened the cover on the espresso I’d gotten him. “Fucking coffee’s cold now. You suck, you know that? You get me addicted to this pricey shit, you insist on going to get it, and then you disappear and bring it cold.”
“Had shit to do.”
“Yeah, I’ll bet.”
I ripped my sunglasses off my face. “Fuck you. Go nuke it.”
“YOUR TIRES ARE REALLY WORN OUT, JILL.” Tricky glanced at me, his lips pressed together. “Good thing you brought it in today because, I’m telling you, looks like the left rear was ready to split. And your transmission…” He wiped at the thick mass of dark hair that had fallen over his eyes.
My ancient Honda looked old and tired next to the shiny hot rods being polished in the huge courtyard of the One-Eyed Jacks’ repair and custom-detailing shop, Eagle Wings. Just beyond was the old go-kart track that was now used to test out bikes and cars. Lock was there with Travis, an Army buddy of his, not a member of the club, who was his hot rod specialist, their tall figures looming over the open hood of a freshly painted red muscle car gleaming in the sunlight.
Becca pulled on my hand, wanting to trot off into the bays where the men were working.
“I know, Tricky. I should’ve come in sooner. I just kept putting it off and I’ve been using Rae’s car mostly and I forgot. Today, I could feel the difference once I got on the road, so I came right over. I didn’t want to take any chances, especially with Becca in the car with me.”
He wiped his hands on a rag hanging from his belt. “I’m gonna put in the order for the tires, and I’ll give you a buzz tomorrow morning to let you know when I’ll be ready to start, all right?”
“Thanks. I really appreciate it. Could you give me an idea of how much this is going to cost, so I can plan on—”
“No charge,” said a deep voice behind me.
I swiveled around. Boner’s green eyes swept over me, the muscle along his jaw pulsing.
“Oh, hey. You don’t have to do that.”
“We don’t have to”—Tricky winked at me—“but that’s the way it is. Gimme your keys.”
I handed him my keys, and he opened the door, unhooked Becca’s car seat, and planted it on the ground. He started my car and steered her to the side lot.
“You okay?” asked Boner.
No, not really—not with your tall, dark, bearded, long-haired magnificence studying me in that unrepentant way of yours.
Becca stilled beside me, her gaze glued on Boner. Like mother, like daughter.
“I’m great.”
“That didn’t convince me, Jill.”
“Just haven’t had my car looked at in a while, and it definitely needed a service check and new tires, as you heard.”
Becca broke free of my loose grasp and lunged at Boner. “Ya! Hi. Hi.” She embraced his legs.
“Hi, you.” Boner’s severe face broke into a grin, and he tousled her light-brown hair. “You keep growing, don’t you?” He squatted down next to her. “Last time I saw you, you were this big!” He showed her an inch of space between his thumb and forefinger.
Becca’s face lit up, and she grabbed at his thumb. “This big! This!” she stuttered.
Boner grinned and took her hand in his, and Becca swung their hands wide.
His green gaze fell on me. “You need a ride somewhere?”
Becca jumped up and down next to him, bringing his hand to her mouth.
There was no getting out of this now.
I adjusted the handle of my handbag on my shoulder. “A ride would be good.”
“You heading home, or you got a doctor’s appointment or something?”
“No doctor today. Thank God. I have to say, I see a lot of doctors these days between Rae’s therapists, Becca’s pediatrician, and my OB/GYN.”
His face scrunched for a moment. Yep, there I was, babbling in his presence like some sort of infatuated teenager.
I was an infatuated teenager when it came to him.
Becca pinched his skin just over his wrist on the same spot where his tattoo of an angry snake slithered down his arm, baring its vicious eyes and long fangs.
My gaze followed the snake up his long arm to the black muscle shirt with the eagle logo of the club repair shop printed in red. His contoured shoulders and bare sinewy arms were taut as they held my daughter. His skin had a golden sheen to it from working outside and riding in the sun. His lean hips were cocked to the side, and his long legs were fitted in faded ripped blue jeans ending in black work boots. Although Boner was perhaps the least bulky of his brothers, he was muscular in a leaner, trimmer way than the obvious rounded bulk of Bear and Dready, two of the tallest and largest Club members, and Travis. Boner’s muscles were perfectly proportioned to his frame. There was nothing overdone about him.