“Fuck, Kimber.”
Her gaze was glassy and unfocused, a slow smile spreading across her face as she pulled him close to her. Their rapid heartbeats pounded against each other’s chests, and they stayed fused together for a few minutes before Throttle pulled out of her. Grabbing a napkin, he wiped his dick and then shoved it into his jeans. Dipping his head down, he kissed her passionately.
“Great way to start the day,” he muttered on her lips.
Laughing, she took his hands and he helped her sit up. “If Hawk gets on my ass about being late, you’re going down for it.” She squeezed his butt and kissed him quickly. “It was awesome.”
He watched as her hips swayed while she walked to the bedroom, her robe and panties in her hand. Fuck, she’s beautiful. He never got tired of seeing her naked. She stirred deep emotions and desire in him, and they grew stronger each day.
“What’re you going to do today?” she asked when she came back, fully clothed with her jacket and hat on.
“I’m gonna check on how the crew did shoveling the contracts we have, and then I got some errands to run.” Throttle’s landscape business in the winter consisted mostly of snow removal. Sometimes he’d help out and drive the snow plow, but mostly his partner, Rags, liked doing it, leaving Throttle to handle quality control on the numerous contracts their business had.
She gave him a quick kiss on the lips. “I’ve got to go. How’s chili sound for dinner?”
“Good as long as you make some cornbread to go along with it.”
“Yes, sir.” She saluted him.
“Smartass.” He smacked her butt. She giggled, blew him a kiss, and went into the garage.
Throttle put the coffee cups in the dishwasher, then took out his phone and called Rags.
“Yo. How’d the crew do with the snow removal early this morning? I got a complaint from one of our contracts. She said the guys didn’t do a good job.”
“Was it from Mrs. Christiansen?”
“Yeah, that’s the name. Do you already know about it?”
“I went to check it out and it looked good to me. She insisted that she wanted you to come by and discuss it with her,” Rags said.
“What the fuck’s up with that? Did you tell her you’re one of the owners?”
“Yep. She didn’t give a damn.”
Throttle scrubbed his face. “I don’t have time for this shit. I’ll give her a call. We got a lot more important contracts we have to take care of. If she drops us, it won’t make a difference to the business income since I think we’re gonna get Allard Food Mart.”
“That’d rock. When are they gonna let you know?”
“Tomorrow, but I’m pretty sure we’ve got it.”
“Fuckin’ sweet. You wanna join me and Wheelie for some chow at Ruthie’s?”
“What time?”
“We’re gonna head over there now.”
“I’m on my way.”
Throttle slipped the phone into his pocket, threw on his leather jacket, and picked up the keys to his Harley. He’d missed being on it. For the past couple of weeks, the snow had been too heavy to ride safely on his bike. When he was younger, he didn’t give a shit about what condition the roads were in; he just cared about the ride. But now that he was thirty-seven and had Kimber in his life, he wasn’t into taking stupid chances. He backed out of the garage and headed toward town, the rush of cold air dancing around him and whipping against his cheeks.
When he walked into the diner, a blast of heat enveloped him as he scanned the packed room for Rags and Wheelie. Sparkling silver and gold miniature trees lined the shelves behind the lunch counter, and multicolored strands of lights framed the windows, cash register, and pass-through counter. The clatter of dishes, the waitstaff calling out their orders, and the lively beats of “Jingle Bell Rock” cooing from the speakers filled the place.
“Hiya, handsome,” Ruthie said as she placed a slice of pie in front of an older gentleman sitting at the counter.
Throttle lifted his chin to her as he took off his leather gloves.
“Your two friends are at the last booth next to the window. Coffee as usual?”
“Yeah. Thanks,” he said as he made his way to the table.
He slid in next to Rags and picked up the menu. “Did you two order already?”
“We waited for you,” Rags said as he waved the waitress over.
Stella had been working at Ruthie’s for the past twelve years and was one of the Insurgents’ favorite waitresses. She placed a glass of water and a steaming cup of coffee in front of Throttle.
“Thanks, Stella. How’s life been treating you?” he asked as he stirred sugar into his coffee.
“This week? Shitty as all hell. Last week? Not bad.”
The guys laughed and placed their orders of chicken fried steak, eggs, and cottage fried potatoes.
“Damn, it’s cold outside,” Wheelie said as he picked up a glass of orange juice.
“I thought my balls were gonna freeze off when I rode over here, but I was going fuckin’ crazy without riding.” Throttle wrapped his hands around the warm cup.
“I know what you mean. It’s been so damn snowy and icy the last couple of weeks. I’m getting restless too. How were the roads?”
“Icy as hell, but it felt good being on my bike.” Throttle took a sip of coffee.
“I’m leaving the icy rides to guys like Jerry, Axe, Chas, and the other younger members. Remember how we used to go on the back roads and do wheelies in the snow?” Rags asked.
Wheelie laughed. He was known for taking crazy chances with his Harley, and his freestyle and complex wheelies earned him his road name. “Hell, I still go out and do that shit.”
Stella placed three piping-hot plates in front of them and a basket of warm biscuits in the center of the table. “Except for refills, is there anything else you need?”
“That should do it, darlin’,” Rags said as he reached over and took a biscuit.
“I heard Mrs. Christiansen is being a pain in your ass,” Wheelie said before he shoved a big bite into his mouth.
Throttle nodded as he chewed.
“I told the bitch she could tell me what the problem was, but she just told me the shoveling wasn’t to her liking and she needed to speak to you and you only,” Rags said.
“She’s a horny one. I guess her old man isn’t giving her want she needs,” Wheelie said.
“Whaddaya mean?” Throttle asked.
“She’s always hitting on guys who work for her. A buddy of mine cleans carpets, and he told me that when he was doing a job over at her place, she kept staring at him the whole time. And when he was getting ready to leave, she patted his ass and gave him her cell number.” Wheelie shook his head, laughing.
“Did he fuck her?” Throttle asked.
“Yeah. He got a lot of referrals from her.”
“Is he still fucking her?” Rags buttered a biscuit.
“Nah, it was only for a month or so, but he got a lot of lasting business from it, so he’s happy.”
“I bet he is,” Throttle said. “If that’s what she wants from me, she’s gonna be disappointed ’cause I’m outta commission.”
“I should be insulted the bitch didn’t want me,” Rags said.