Burning Hot Rumors (Choices: Tarkio MC Book 2)

by Debra Kayn

  "How about we save the rest and eat it tomorrow."

  A smile came to her lips. "I just had that thought, too. You can come over after work, and I can reheat everything."

  She put all the lids on the containers and put the food in the sack. Used to leftovers when she managed to cook something that took longer than five minutes, she knew the meal would taste just as good tomorrow.

  After she put the food in the fridge, she got a glass of water. "We can sit in the living room if you want while you finish the beer."

  He took the rocker in the corner of the room. She sat on the couch. Only her dad's La-Z-boy and her recliner remained empty.

  After several minutes, she said, "I'd turn the television on, but the last wind storm moved the antenna on the roof, and none of the channels come in."

  "I'm used to the silence in the van. It doesn't bother me." He looked around the room. "When I go to sleep, I use a transistor radio to distract me."

  "I used to use my radio alarm clock to go to sleep." She swallowed.

  That was something she never got back from Josh. She missed listening to the countdown of popular songs and trying to remember the words to her favorites.

  "You don’t drink beer?"

  "No." She lifted her head. "Not lately. I used to...once in a while."

  "It seems like you used to do a lot of things." He took another drink. "Why did you stop?"

  To tell him the truth was now or never. It would be easy to explain her past since he brought it up.

  Maybe if he knew, he'd look at her differently, and she wouldn't have to stress any longer over what he'd think of her if he knew everything about her.

  Her heart beat in the silence. The contentment of having a big meal in her stomach no longer protected her. She picked up the throw pillow and hugged it to her stomach.

  "I-I was married." She swallowed. "A lot of things changed when I got divorced."

  "Shit," he muttered, standing up.

  She pressed her back against the couch. His reaction went straight through her chest and pierced her heart.

  Kent rubbed the back of his neck, set the beer on the end table, and walked out of the trailer. Used to people rejecting her, she should've let his judgment roll off her.

  She closed her eyes, dispelling the tears flooding her vision. That's what she deserved, believing he was different.

  Chapter 14

  Kent

  KENT WALKED TO HIS Harley and dug around in the bag for his cigarettes. Lighting a smoke, he exhaled harshly. He could go days, weeks, without nicotine. Then the urge would hit him hard.

  The moment Callie had admitted she'd been married, he knew without a doubt who her ex-husband was.

  All the information he'd gathered since working at the gas station and the conflicts with Josh Hill suddenly made sense. The truth about her past hit him out of nowhere. He couldn't imagine anyone with Callie, or they would still be with her. Josh had the opportunity to love a beautiful woman, wake up beside her every God damn morning, and be the receiver of her love, and the asshole had thrown his greatest gift away.

  For what reason?

  He needed to know.

  Stubbing his cigarette off on the thigh of his jeans, he marched into the house and found Callie in the same spot he'd left her in, staring at the coffee table in front of her. He sat back down across from her and waited for her to look at him. She refused to lift her head.

  "Did Josh start all the rumors and turn the town against you?" he asked.

  Her chin lifted. "Maybe what everyone says about me is true."

  "Give me a fucking break, Callie." He leaned back in the chair, surprised that after all the time they'd spent together, she picked now to fight against him knowing the truth.

  Where was that attitude of hers when Josh walked into the gas station and treated her like shit, or one of the female customers gave her lip about the rumors?

  "Thanks for dinner. I owe you one." She stood. "Lock the door on your way out."

  He rounded the coffee table and gripped her elbow before she could run away from him. "Why do you do that?"

  "What?" She raised her brows. "You brought dinner over. We ate. If you want to go, and tell everyone that we had sex, go for it."

  "I’m not going to—" He clamped his teeth together.

  She riled him more than anyone. He wanted to shove her out the door and force her to show the world who Callie really was, and she deserved not to be punished because of someone else's bullshit.

  He also wanted to kiss her in the worst way, take some of that tight control she held in place and throw it out the fucking window, but doing so would give her the thought that he believed all the rumors.

  That he wanted what the rumors stated.

  That he wanted to be the next man between her legs.

  None of it was true. He wanted her because he'd spent the last several months tied up in her life, and enjoyed the hell out of her. She was a beautiful woman who had a lot to give a man.

  Hell, he wasn't some hero who rode in on a horse to rescue her. He was a biker who usually preferred being by himself and had nothing to offer a woman.

  "Tomorrow, you need to walk out that door and show everyone in Missoula they can't hurt you." He dropped his hand from her arm. "That it doesn't matter what people believe because of some rumors spread around about you. You show them that you're happy."

  "Right," she mumbled. "I'm just a ray of sunshine."

  He growled at her sarcasm. "Callie, you—"

  "No, Kent. You can't tell me what to do. You haven't lived my life."

  "No, I haven't. But I want to be in your life." He lifted her chin when she tried to look down. "I want to know you. The old you. The one before you got involved with Josh Hill."

  "She's dead."

  His chest tightened, and he whispered, "No, she isn't."

  Her eyes darted to the side in an almost unbelievable eye-roll. If he hadn't seen it, he'd never believe she was capable of arguing back in such a way.

  "If I act like I used to when nobody judged me, it'll make things worse. Everyone would believe Josh."

  "Have you tried it?"

  She sniffed. "No."

  He stroked her cheek with his thumb, then lowered his hand and stepped back. "Then, tomorrow, plan on finding yourself again. You have nothing to lose, huh?"

  "It'll be awful." She sniffed. "The old me was fun, outgoing, and...lots of things."

  He cocked his brow. "It could be that way again."

  She shook her head, silently arguing with him.

  "You're not alone. I'll be right beside you, and honey, I dare anyone to say a bad word about you."

  "It doesn't matter anymore," she mumbled. "I'm too old to run around to the parties, dance, drink, have fun. That's not me anymore."

  He grabbed his leather coat and slipped his arms inside the sleeves. "Tomorrow night, I'll come and help you eat the rest of our dinner we have left. We'll make a plan. Together."

  "This is a bad idea."

  "When's the last time you got to be yourself and have some fun?" He absorbed her leeriness and broadened his shoulders, ready to take on the world for her.

  The area between her eyebrows pinched together. "I don't trust anyone."

  "It's not about trusting me or anyone else, honey. You have to trust yourself." He turned and walked to the front of the trailer.

  Letting himself out, he pushed the button on the knob to lock the door behind him and left before she could argue against their arrangement. He'd do whatever it took to get her back to living life, her life.

  He got on his Harley, put on his gloves, and zipped his coat up to the top to keep the cold off him. Halfway back to Curley's house, he realized that he wasn't forcing Callie to step forward in her life because Ed had asked him to watch out for her. He pushed her to let go of all that control she'd clung to for years because he wanted a chance to be with her.

  And, when that happened, he wanted her to have no doubt why his cock
was inside of her, and her legs were wrapped around his waist. He wanted to be with her, and it had nothing to do with the rumors floating around Missoula.

  He pulled into the driveway and looped around, parking behind the van. Taking the tarp out of the vehicle, he covered his Harley in case it rained. He'd faced the facts early on that staying in Montana meant there would be some days, a lot of days, during the winter that he'd need to hoof it five blocks to work or take the van because riding his motorcycle in the snow was impossible.

  "Hey," yelled Curley.

  Kent looked behind him and spotted Curley walking out of the house. "What's up?"

  "I'm heading to the bar. Want to go?"

  "Maybe." He slapped the last Bungee cord against his hand. "You know Callie, right?"

  Curley nodded.

  "Do you know any women who are about her size?"

  Curley tilted his head. "Why are you asking?"

  "I need to find out what size of jeans she wears and get directions to where I can go to buy them." He scratched the back of his head. "Hell, if you can get a woman to go buy a few different styles of jeans for me, I'll pay her for her help."

  Curley clapped him on the back. "Buy my beer tonight, and I'll make sure you have a sack full of clothes tomorrow."

  His chest eased. "They need to be new, not hand-me-downs."

  Curley whistled low. "Whatever you say. Unwrap your bike. Let's hit the road. I'm thirsty."

  He'd drank with Curley before. Tonight's favor was going to cost him. Money wasn't a problem at the moment, and he had a feeling seeing Callie in clothes that hugged her curves would be worth the expense.

  Fifteen minutes later, Kent walked into Riverside Bar. A group of Tarkio Motorcycle Club members surrounded three tables. He sat at the end by Curley.

  Two beers later, Curley leaned closer. "See that chick waiting on the guys around the pool table?"

  He scanned the crowd and found the only woman holding a serving tray under her arm. "Yeah."

  "Doesn't she look the same size as Callie?"

  He gave a slight shake of his head, then studied the woman closer. At first glance, the lady had done nothing for him. Sure, she was pretty, but her body was all wrong. Callie's breasts were twice as big, even with the weight loss.

  "Don't look at the tits, man. You want jeans." Curley lifted his mug of beer and took a drink. "Look at her ass."

  Kent lowered his gaze, taking in the woman's hips, the curve of her butt. It was hard to compare the two women. So much of Callie's jeans hid her figure, he still remembered the plumpness of her ass when he began working there. Hell, watching her was what kept him coming back day after day.

  "Yeah, about her size, I think," he said.

  Across the table, Paco leaned forward. "What's going on?"

  "Taking care of business." Curley raised his glass.

  "Are you thinking of patching in, Calder?" Paco pointed his finger and swung his arm left to right. "I think we could all keep you busy for a year before we go to vote."

  He laughed. "I've always rode alone."

  "Hell, man. We all did." Curley drained the rest of his drink, lifted his arm, and grabbed the server's attention. "Let me get us all another drink...Calder's paying."

  Kent leaned back in his seat. It was a damn good thing he had money socked away from working in the oil field.

  "Son of a bitch. There's that dumb fuck," muttered Razor.

  Being new in town, he had no clue who grabbed Razor's attention, until Josh Hill walked through the middle of the bar, swaggering and heading toward two women who sat at a table alone.

  Kent's good mood vanished. He'd like nothing more than to go over there and beat the shit out of Callie's ex.

  "Roddy, go outside and make sure he left our bikes alone." Razor's gaze followed Hill.

  "Trouble?" Kent asked, curious about what Tarkio thought of the man.

  Paco's upper lip lifted his mustache. "Are you in if there is?"

  "Absolutely," he muttered.

  Paco rubbed his jaw. "Hill's got a stick up his ass and thinks because his old man owns half the town, he can tread over everyone who cowers to him."

  "He also has a big mouth." Curley scowled. "Because he decided to talk, two Tarkio members were killed."

  "And, Tarkio let him live?" Kent blew out his breath and shook his head.

  The bikers met his gaze and kept silent. He respected them for not talking. He wasn't a sworn member. Only since moving into Curley's driveway had he grown to know the MC better.

  As far as he was concerned, he wouldn't mind seeing Hill die of lead poisoning. He had that and more coming to him for how he treated Callie.

  "Hell, he's using one of his dad's buildings to hide a swinger's club," said Razor.

  He looked back at Hill. A clean-cut son of a bitch, he could see him doing some kinky shit.

  The rumors going around about Callie started making more sense. Josh was trying to keep the attention off himself and his crimes by making everyone focus on her.

  He'd like to know if she was involved in the swinger lifestyle while married or if she'd found out about it after she'd gotten divorced. Callie knowing about Josh's activities could be why Josh made sure nobody got close to her. He wouldn't want his little secret to get out.

  Chapter 15

  Callie

  CALLIE WALKED TO THE front of the gas station and flipped the OPEN sign to CLOSED. Aware of Kent behind her, waiting to walk over to her house for their second dinner together, she dragged her feet.

  She'd put off taking him home with her as long as possible.

  She shut the lights off in the building and headed to the back. Kent fell in line with her and went out the back door.

  Glancing at him, she tried to see what he carried in the shopping bag from Nordstrom. She'd seen Curley hand the sack over to him right before it was time to shut off the gas pump. Kent was a million lightyears away from ever donning an Izod shirt.

  "Hungry?" he asked.

  She stopped in front of the door and unlocked the knob. "Yeah. I'll put everything in the oven and warm it up. It'll take about twenty minutes or so."

  "I'm in no hurry. I'd rather be with you than in my van with myself." He followed her inside. "I'll start a fire and knock the chill out of the house for you."

  "Oh. Okay." She took off her coat, washed her hands, and prepared the leftovers into two separate baking dishes.

  Once the oven heated, she put the food in to warm. She stood with her back toward the fridge and stared across the room into the living room. Kent hunkered in front of the woodstove, blowing at the small flame under the logs.

  Arousal deep in her soul bowed her back, and she straightened her knees to hide the way her body reacted around Kent. She, in no-way-shape-or-form, wanted to explore that attraction with any man in Missoula.

  She couldn't take the chance that Kent would tell someone. It would be impossible to fight against the rumors surrounding her name if she had sex with him. He would believe the lies and that she was easy.

  Besides, he was a loner, a drifter. He lived in a van.

  Sex would only be a temporary fix to feel good. It wouldn't solve any of her problems, only add to them.

  She stared at the broad span of his shoulders. The muscles on his back moved under his tight shirt. She bit her bottom lip. Every once in a while, he jerked back his head, flinging his hair out of his eyes.

  God, she hoped he never cut his hair. She loved it long and free.

  Rich brown, thick, strands the color of strong coffee hung past his shoulders. Her fingers curled. She had no idea how he showered while living in a van, but he had the most gorgeous hair that appeared soft and clean.

  "Callie?"

  She shook her head, knocking the image of him back into focus. "Hm?"

  "Do you have some more paper?"

  "I'll get you some." She stepped into the tiny laundry room off the kitchen and grabbed a bundle of newspapers from the stack in the corner that she kept the
re for the purpose of starting fires.

  She returned to him. "There are matches in the canister if you need more."

  "I'm good." He wadded up a piece of paper. "Just need more fuel, and the wood will catch."

  She stayed beside him, watching the tiny flame almost go out before consuming the newspaper. The brightness grew, and soon, warmth flowed toward her.

  Kent closed the heavy doors and fiddled with the lever on the stovepipe, adjusting the damper. The sculpted muscles on his forearms bunched in such a way, she ogled the movement. Despite what everyone believed, she'd only slept with one person in her life.

  Being married for three years, she used to believe that she knew everything there was about sex. She knew the ins and outs, the positions, and how long it took.

  Then, the night she walked into the house and found Josh fucking Gretchen Manelli and Tina Hall crumbled her sheltered life.

  The bindings, the whip, the outfits. All she could do was stand there unnoticed and take it all in like a gawker at a peepshow.

  It hadn't even hit her that it was her husband cheating on her, because she'd gone into shock. She couldn't look away.

  She inhaled swiftly and rubbed her cheeks, turning away from the woodstove and Kent. The night she'd walked in on Josh and her two friends, she'd gotten a glimpse into someone else's life, a life that hadn't included her, and she'd left Josh.

  Throughout the years, she'd heard a lot of the rumors about her. In those stories spread far and wide around town, people claimed she'd had sex with many different men. Some of the stories were about a scene, much like the one she'd witnessed Josh doing.

  After the divorce, she'd matured. She also had a lot of time to think.

  She no longer believed Josh cheated on her because he found her lacking in the sex department of their marriage.

  She'd seen the look on his face. The look on Gretchen's face. The look on Tina's face. There was more to sex than spreading her legs and letting Josh hump away on her until he found his pleasure.

  That was the extent of her knowledge. She knew somehow, sex was a much more pleasurable act than she'd experienced.