Heavy Hogs MC

by Elias Taylor

  A few minutes later, Tristen arrived home. He dropped his bag in the closet and plopped down next to Kayla. He put one hand on his baby’s back and leaned forward to give Kayla a deep kiss.

  She smiled as their lips met. Pregnancy had forced a lot of changes, but they had always managed to maintain the passion between them. Even when their entire relationship had been faked, they had physical chemistry, and it had not faded.

  “Alright, my turn to make dinner,” Tristen said. “What do you want?”

  “Hm, pasta?”

  “You always want pasta,” Tristen said.

  Kayla laughed and followed Tristen into the kitchen. She sat at the counter holding the baby while Tristen whipped up some spaghetti carbonara.

  They sat and chatted about their days. Tristen had landed a big client, and Kayla had finished an important project. They paused a few times when the baby got fussy.

  After dinner, Tristen held the baby while Kayla did the dishes.

  It was a simple and comforting routine.

  Kayla liked knowing that this was what their days would look like. She liked knowing that they would sing the baby to sleep together and then spend an hour watching a TV show. Then Tristen would make love to her, soft and sweet, and somehow he would make her feel like they were still just dating, and they had no worries at all in the world. He knew how to make her feel safe and loved. Even when he was tired from work or parenting, he was never tired of her. And she was never tired of him.

  When they curled up in their bed that night, after making love, Tristen wrapped his warm arms around Kayla.

  “Excited for tomorrow?” he asked.

  “Sure,” she said. “It’s just a club barbecue.”

  “I think it’s gonna be really fun,” Tristen said.

  “Why?” Kayla asked.

  “I dunno,” Tristen said. “I just have a feeling that you might get a little too into the jungle juice again.”

  Kayla squealed and elbowed him in the chest.

  “I’ve learned my lesson,” she said. “I had one wild night, and I got stuck with you and a baby.”

  “You wound me with your words,” he said.

  Kayla drifted to sleep with a smile on her face.

  The next morning they had breakfast and played with the baby. On nice days, they liked to take him on walks in the park.

  They headed to the barbecue in the mid-afternoon. Tristen thought it was so funny how all of a sudden they were the old members of the club who showed up with a kid and then left early. Kayla, if she was being honest, preferred it this way.

  The barbecue was the same as always. The grills were blazing and long picnic tables were set up with plates of food. The younger women were preening and tossing their hair; the younger guys were clutching beers and planning the bonfire.

  Kayla’s parents came dashing over to scoop up the baby. Even though her mother babysat often, she never got tired of showering her grandson with affection.

  While her parents held the baby, Kayla and Tristen grabbed plates of food and settled down at a table. Tristen was buzzing with a strange energy. He was bouncing his knee so much under the table that he kept knocking into Kayla’s knee.

  She patted his thigh with her hand.

  “What’s gotten into you?” she asked.

  “Nothing,” Tristen said. “I just love a good barbecue.”

  Kayla shrugged and ate her food. He was being weird, but she was enjoying catching up with old acquaintances and planning bike rides for the future too much to think about it.

  When the barbecue was in full swing, Kayla took the baby back from her mother and walked around the perimeter of the party so everyone could say hi. The other members thought it was adorable that Kayla and Tristen had ended up together, and they all doted on the baby. Fiend, in particular, gave the baby extra attention. Tristen had told Kayla what Fiend had done for him, and she was forever grateful for the older man’s sage advice delivered at a critical point.

  Kayla was chatting with Fiend when she heard someone calling for everyone’s attention. She turned and saw Tristen standing on a bench and raising his beer.

  “Everyone!” Tristen called. “I got something to say!”

  Everyone settled down and listened with eagerness. Kayla blinked in surprise. Tristen must have been planning this speech.

  “One year ago, I came to a biker barbecue,” Tristen said. “And I got the chance to talk to the most beautiful girl in the club, right by the bonfire.”

  Kayla narrowed her eyes. If he mentioned how drunk she had been, she would kill him. Luckily, Tristen knew her enough to avoid the details of that night. He had no problem teasing her about it in private, but he knew she hated sharing embarrassing episodes in public.

  “And then, a few weeks later, I was falling in love with that girl,” Tristen said. “One night, she told me that she had always wanted to travel to Paris.”

  Kayla’s mouth fell open as Tristen reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a plane ticket.

  “Well, it’s taken me a year, but I’m going to take her to Paris,” Tristen said.

  The crowd erupted into cheers and shouts, and everyone pushed Kayla towards the front. Kayla drifted over to where Tristen stood, still waving his arms. She shifted the baby in her arms and smiled up at Tristen. Paris would be delightful, but she still wasn’t sure why he was announcing this to the whole biker club.

  “I’m not done, I’m not done,” Tristen said.

  The crowd quieted down so Tristen could continue.

  “I’m going to take her to Paris on our honeymoon,” Tristen said. “If she would agree to make me the happiest man on earth and marry me.”

  Kayla gasped with joy as Tristen hopped down from the bench. He pulled a box from his jacket and knelt before her.

  He popped open the box to reveal a beautiful diamond. It was a classic square shape. Simple but elegant, just the kind of ring Kayla had dreamed about. She hadn’t told him how much she wanted it. Tristen had done enough for her over the past year, so she hadn’t wanted to force him into marriage. She was overjoyed that he wanted it just as much as she did.

  “Kayla Carpenter,” Tristen said. “Will you marry me?”

  Kayla smiled down at the guy who had always been able to make her laugh. At the man who had shown her how to be truly happy in all facets of life. At the partner who had stayed by her side during a dramatic and beautiful transition. At the amazing husband to her gorgeous baby.

  She took a deep breath and felt a well of excitement bubble up inside her. She was excited for the rest of her life.

  “Yes,” Kayla said.

  The crowd cheered, and Kayla and her baby were instantly wrapped in Tristen’s arms.

  Book 4: Brent

  An MC Romance

  Chapter One: Natalie

  Hard metal soothed Natalie’s calloused palms as she leaned against the hood of the light blue car in front of her. 1967 Chevrolet Camaro. Beautiful paint and interior. Probably rebuilt or kept in a garage most of her life. Bet this car’s been all over in her day, and now it’s here in Classic Auto in Thousand Oaks in front of me. I love my job.

  “Someone really cares about you, huh?” Natalie said to the car. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

  Natalie couldn’t help but whistle as she raised the hood and bathed what lay beneath with bright daylight from Classic Auto’s six open garage doors. This car screamed “Originality!”. Natalie wasn’t against modifying classic cars, but there was something special about opening a door or a hood and seeing exactly what someone would have seen fifty-three years ago.

  This Camaro was like a time capsule. Not modified, not obviously restored, just taken care of over the years.

  The engine caught Natalie’s eye, and she leaned closer with a frown. Wait a minute...this wasn’t the original engine. “Hey, Matt,” she called, without looking in her fellow mechanic’s direction.

  “Hey, Natalie,” he tossed back at her, not stopping in his effor
ts with a socket wrench.

  “Wasn’t there a General Motors recall of defective motor mounts in 1971?”

  “Yeah.”

  “That explains it then, doesn’t it?” Natalie gave the car a fond little pat.

  “Yeah it does, you’re so smart!”

  “Shut up,” Natalie told Matt with an eye-roll, wandering over to the computer station in the middle of the shop to find the Camaro’s file. It looked good at first glance, but something must be wrong with it or the car wouldn’t be here.

  “If you insist on talking to the cars you shouldn’t be so surprised when they talk back,” Matt said innocently.

  “I like that cars don’t talk back. I get enough of that from men.” Natalie snapped her gaze to Matt to give him a wide, sassy grin, then returned to her task. “Who brought this car in?” she asked, raising an eyebrow at the notes section of the dropoff.

  Julian spoke up from the other side of the shop. “Some rich kid. He said his grandfather left him the car and that the engine squeals when he starts it up.”

  Natalie winced. This beautiful classic car in the hands of a kid?

  “Relax, girl,” Julian told her. “You’re a kid yourself.”

  Natalie brushed back her short, dark-brown hair so Julian could feel the full force of her glare. “Just because I’m not balding or graying—”

  “—doesn’t mean that you don’t know what you’re doing, I know,” Julian interrupted. “But cars are your thing. They aren’t everyone’s thing.”

  “Yeah, yeah.” Julian was right, as usual—she needed to give this kid she had never met a break.

  Natalie couldn’t remember a time in her life that she hadn’t loved cars. Growing up in a house with an absentee father, a single mother who worked long hours as a doctor and a brother who couldn’t put down his video-game controller, Natalie’s obsession with cars broke the family mold. While girls in her high-school classes spent the summers swooning over boys, Natalie spent them lying under cars and hunching over hoods for unpaid mechanic-shop internships, learning everything she could about what made the physical representation of freedom work.

  Freedom. She had thought she found freedom with convertibles. She discovered just how wrong she had been when she rode her first motorcycle, sitting behind Matt and resisting the urge to throw her arms in the air like she was on a rollercoaster.

  After that, she had to have her own motorcycle. She talked to her mom, who agreed to go fifty-fifty on the cost of a bike for her eighteenth birthday. Then she started hanging around with the Road Warriors, Matt’s biker group. Eventually, Natalie found a woman in the group willing to sell her a 1999 Honda Valkyrie that needed a few hundred dollars’ worth of work.

  She brought that bike to this very shop, fixed it up herself after hours and now she could look at the parking lot and see that very bike in her own personal spot. She had been a proud member of the Road Warriors ever since.

  And I’m riding to Vegas this weekend, she reminded herself. For now, back to work. She didn’t have time to daydream.

  Luckily, a squealing engine could only be a few very specific things. Natalie had no doubt that upon closer inspection, she would find that the power steering belt or pulley needed to be replaced. It was a common ailment for classic vehicles like this one and an easy one to fix. She might spend two hours on this car at most—a little disappointing since she loved working on classics.

  Sure enough, when Natalie looked at the power steering belt more closely, she saw it was worn. The original owner clearly tried to hold onto as many of the original parts as he could, but this belt was one that needed to go. Natalie could almost see cracks forming in the rubber as she looked at the belt.

  She also knew that her little shop didn’t have this particular belt in stock. Mr. Rich Kid would have to wait a day or two for them to get one shipped here so that she could install it in his car. Once the belt arrived, Natalie would need a couple hours to loosen a couple bolts, replace the belt and push the power steering back into place, so he would be able to come get the car that same day.

  “Figure it out?” Matt asked when Natalie headed back to the computers to report her findings.

  “Of course,” she responded airily. “Engine squealing equals power steering. Cars are pretty simple.”

  “But men aren’t?” Matt pointed out, bringing back a joke that was getting old to Natalie. “When are you going to get a boyfriend? My wife brings me lunch all the time. Julian’s girlfriend visits him on the clock. You need a man to bring around. It’s a sort of rite of passage around here.”

  “Sure it is,” Natalie responded easily, shrugging off his comments like she did every week. Matt never let Natalie’s single status slip her mind, but she never let him get to her. Her mom was perfectly happy without Natalie’s absentee father in her life. Natalie didn’t need a man to be happy either, and she wouldn’t let a little peer pressure goad her into making the mistake of getting into a relationship that was doomed to fail anyway.

  Natalie’s tomboyish ways had never fit in with her peers during high school, and she had never cared. Why should she start caring now? She was who she was, and boycraziness wasn’t part of her M.O. She could get dolled up like the other girls, but why should she? She liked to look down at her hands and see grease on her fingernails instead of nail polish. It meant that she was doing what she loved and being who she wanted to be.

  “Look, I’m a busy person,” she told Matt, since he clearly wasn’t satisfied with her answer. “I have work. And friends. And the Road Warriors.”

  “Everyone has work, friends and hobbies. Everyone finds time for a relationship but you.”

  “Everyone can do what everyone wants,” Natalie replied, batting her eyes. “I’m not everyone, and I’m definitely not looking for a relationship.” Natalie had her life, and she loved it. Bringing a man into the mix would mess up this good thing she had going. Sure, at first, it would be exciting, new and fun. Then, slowly but surely, Natalie would start feeling pressured to brush off her work and hobbies for the sake of bonding.

  However, she didn’t feel like explaining all that to Matt. Let him enjoy his wife while he could. Eventually, he would see that she was just an obligation holding him back. So instead of sharing her thoughts, Natalie placed the order for the belt for the Camaro, wiped her hands on her grease-stained shirt and said, “Alright, I’m out of here. See you guys tomorrow.”

  “Bye, Not Everyone.” Matt tossed a greasy rag across the shop. Natalie didn’t bother dodging because he missed by a mile.

  “See you tomorrow, Natalie,” Julian said with a sigh. She knew that he sometimes got tired of their antics, but as long as they did their jobs he couldn’t really complain.

  Wallet, check. Keys, check. Phone, check. Helmet? Natalie grabbed her helmet off the handlebars as she swung her leg over her Valkyrie. Check. Her non-slip work boot rubbed against the sleek black leather of the seat and left a tiny smear of some sort of liquid she’d stepped in during the course of the day.

  No you don’t. She lifted her leg and rubbed at the spot with a corner of her T-shirt until the leather gleamed in the late-afternoon sun.

  Perfect. The engine roared to life. She gave it a loud rev when she spotted Matt giving her a goodbye salute from the garage, before pulling onto the main road and speeding off.

  Even after an entire year of making the same drive home from work, it felt strange to breeze straight past the neighborhood where her mother lived. Natalie had worked hard and saved harder, and last year she invested the money she spent years saving into purchasing her own two-bedroom house. Natalie loved it here in Thousand Oaks, and she knew it was where she wanted to stay. If she needed to get away for awhile, well—

  “That’s what you’re for,” she told her bike as she pulled into her driveway and hit the button to open the garage door. As the bike thrummed to a stop and she cut off the engine, she pulled off her helmet and gave her head a shake to give some life to the dark hair plastered
flat to her head. Mid-May days in California could hit the eighties, and Natalie couldn’t wait to jump into a cool shower.

  Still, she took a moment to step outside and appreciate her yard. Not just any yard. Her yard. She got it now. She understood why people liked to sit outside on their porches. It was a survey-your-domain sort of thing.

  Natalie’s eyes strayed to the house next door, gliding disapprovingly over the ostentatious bright-red sports car in the driveway.

  Too bad her domain had to be next to Brent Cooke’s.

  Her phone rang before she could think any further about how she’d ended up moving into the house next to her big brother’s annoying best friend. “Hey Jasmine, great timing. I just got home from work.”

  “I know. I was actually going to stop by the shop and talk to you on my way home, but Matt told me he drove you off again.”

  “He wishes,” Natalie said wryly. “Next time he tells me to get a boyfriend, I’m going to threaten to tell his wife he and I are dating. Kidding, of course,” she backtracked when Jasmine gave an unamused groan. “I wouldn’t mess up his marriage. Time will do that for him anyway.”

  “You’re a ray of sunshine, aren’t you?” Jasmine commented. Natalie could picture her best friend’s freckled face just by hearing her voice, and right now Jasmine was shaking her head. “Don’t be so negative. Plenty of people stay happily married.”

  “Sure,” Natalie dragged out the u until the sarcasm in her voice couldn’t be mistaken. “Like my parents. And your parents.”

  “Point taken. Anyway, I called to see what you’re doing this weekend. I was thinking of hitting the beach.”

  “Can’t,” Natalie said promptly, letting herself into the house through the garage. “I’m going to ride this weekend. Some of the Road Warriors are going to Vegas. I haven’t been there in a while, and it’ll be really nice to get away from everything for a bit. Matt’s been driving me crazy lately at the shop.”