STONE KINGS MOTORCYCLE CLUB: The Complete Collection

by Daphne Loveling

  “Yeah,” I said simply. “I took her on a ride. Hey, isn’t that your house across the street from hers?” I vaguely remembered being at Debbie’s house years ago in junior high, for some party she’d managed to throw when her folks were out of town.

  She nodded. “Yeah. Did you guys go over to Eva’s house, then?” She gave me an enigmatic half-smile.

  “Nah. Just dropped her off after the ride.”

  My thoughts went back for the hundredth time to the scene I had witnessed with her mom.

  I must have needed to unload some of what was on my mind, or maybe it was the beer talking, because I ended up asking Debbie about it. “Do you, uh, know much about Eva’s family?”

  She wrinkled her nose slightly. “Um, yeah. They moved in when I was little. Have you met her mom yet?”

  “Yeah… sort of.”

  Debbie gave me a knowing look. “Crazy, huh?”

  I was silent for a moment. I didn’t want to say anything bad about Eva’s mom, but I was still trying to figure out how to deal with what had happened when I saw her again on Monday. “Yeah, she was a little… rough around the edges.”

  I glanced at Debbie. “I dunno, it was weird. Eva, she’s so delicate… elegant, you know?” I said. Someone had turned the music down, so I wasn’t having to yell. I continued, almost to myself: “The way she moves, she’s graceful. Almost like a princess. I guess I thought of her as living in some sort of mansion, or something. Like a castle. I figured her parents were rich, or something.” I had to laugh at how stupid I probably sounded.

  Debbie snorted. “Hardly. My dad’s always bitching about how they have the worst trash house on the block.”

  Instantly, I felt ashamed for talking about Eva behind her back like that. “Anyway. Eva’s pretty awesome,” I said quickly.

  She took a sip of her beer. “Oh yeah? Are you gonna date her, or something?”

  “Maybe.” I suddenly felt a little defensive. Not because I was ashamed to be with Eva, but because I didn’t do relationships. The longest I’d ever hooked up with a girl was two weeks, and that was back in eighth grade. But this was different. Eva was different. This was something I felt like I wanted to protect.

  Debbie was looking at me curiously. “Huh,” she said finally, her lip curling. “I wouldn’t have thought Eva Van Buren would have what it takes to turn Caleb Jackson into a pussy.”

  Before I could say anything in response, she had turned and walked away, her hips swaying in a way that said she knew that I and every other guy in the room were watching.

  Debbie was the only person I ever talked to about Eva. A couple months later, when she and I ended up hooking up, I asked her if she had any idea why Eva might have freaked out the way she did. All I remember is, she said it didn’t matter anyway, since Eva would be off to college in a few weeks.

  Then Debbie proceeded to give me a blow job that could have sucked the chrome off a trailer hitch.

  The next day when I showed up for my PT appointment, I found myself nervously waiting for Eva, for the second time in my life.

  And for the second time in my life, it did not go at all the way I expected it to.

  “Hi,” a thin, lithe black woman in a hospital coat said as she strode out into waiting area to greet me. “I’m Vanessa Washington. I’ll be taking over for Eva as your physical therapist.”

  “What? Wait,” I protested. “This has gotta be a mistake. No one mentioned they were switching my PT when they called to change my appointment.”

  “I’m sorry,” she frowned. “I would have thought they’d tell you. But it’s not a mistake.” She motioned toward the main exercise area. “Shall we get started?”

  Shit. In a way, I should have been glad of the change. This new therapist, Vanessa, was freaking beautiful, but she wasn’t Eva. I could control myself around beautiful women, though. I wasn’t going to have to suffer through being reduced to an out-of-control horny teenager around her. It should have been a relief that I wouldn’t have to worry about sprouting wood every time my new PT touched me.

  And as she began putting me through my paces, it became obvious she was good at what she did, too. All in all, I should have just thanked my lucky stars and let it go.

  But she wasn’t Eva.

  As Vanessa had me go through the various exercises to work different muscles in my leg, I started making conversation with her to see if I could worm some information out of her.

  “So,” I said nonchalantly as I finished up a hamstring set. “Is Eva still here?”

  “No, she’s gone for the day.” Vanessa nodded. “Good. Don’t strain. Just take it easy. Slow and controlled movements.”

  I decided to take a shot at directness. “Do you know why she decided to ditch me as a patient?”

  Her eyes met mine briefly, then flicked away. “I’m sure she felt that the two of you weren’t a good fit.”

  Actually, I was pretty sure we would be a good fit, but I knew that’s not what she was talking about. My dick responded uncomfortably to a very inappropriate image that had just popped into my mind.

  I tried again. “She got a boyfriend? Or a husband?”

  Vanessa smirked. “Now, that would be unprofessional to reveal to you.”

  Ha. She was single. Vanessa wouldn’t have bothered to conceal it if she wasn’t. That meant I had a shot.

  Wait, what the hell was I doing? A shot at what?

  Without even intending to, my brain had shifted in a direction I was pretty sure was A Very Bad Idea.

  After all, Eva hated me. Not only that, I was about as far from being long-term relationship material as it was possible to get.

  I shouldn’t have cared one way or another about getting her back as my PT. And I sure as hell shouldn’t be thinking beyond that. Yet suddenly, there I was, scheming to figure out a way to get her back.

  Not like I ever had her in the first place, I reminded myself.

  Vanessa had a hand on her hip, and was looking at me with her head cocked. “You okay?”

  Apparently, I had been staring off into space.

  Clearing my throat, I decided to go for broke. “Look. Vanessa. I know you don’t know me from Adam. But Eva and I, we have a… well, a kind of history. And she’s really pissed at me for something that happened a long time ago. But I swear to you, I don’t know what it is. And I want to try to make it right. But I need your help.”

  Vanessa’s eyes bored into mine, searching. For a moment, she didn’t say anything at all, and I knew I at least had a shot of getting her on my side. So I went for it.

  “Look, I’m begging you,” I continued. “Help me out. Maybe you could, I dunno, work on her for me? Try to figure out why she’s pissed, or try to get her to give me a chance to talk to her?”

  She gazed at me intently for a few moments, her expression unreadable.

  “Why should I help you?” she asked.

  “Because I’m not a bad guy. I would never intentionally hurt Eva. I swear.”

  She crossed her arms in front of her, frowning as she considered. “You got a job?” she asked finally.

  I laughed. “I make a living.”

  “You live in your mama’s basement or something?”

  I snorted. “What do you think?”

  She waited a beat, then sighed and rolled her eyes. “You better not make me regret this.”

  Grinning, I held up my hand. “I promise. Scout’s honor.”

  She snorted and nodded at my tattoos. “Don’t give me that. You were not a boy scout, I can guarantee.”

  I laughed. “You got me there.”

  Vanessa sent me off with some exercises to do at home the next day, and a PT appointment for the day after that. She told me to give her some time to figure out a plan, and made me swear three more times I wasn’t going to hurt Eva.

  But as I climbed painfully into the truck to drive myself over to the clubhouse for chapel that afternoon, I had to admit to myself that I had no idea what I was doing, or whether either of
us was gonna get hurt. I hadn’t thought any of this shit out.

  All I knew was that I had a very small window at having a second shot with Eva Van Buren. And I didn’t seem to be able to stop myself from throwing myself through it at full speed.

  10

  Eva

  Doctor Larkin was having more and more difficulty taking no for an answer.

  I thought at first that letting him down easy was the way to go, but he was too full of himself to recognize a subtle brush-off for what it was.

  The first time he asked me for a follow-up date, it was to go out for drinks after work, and I told him I’d never be able to find a sitter. The second time, he told me he had tickets to a baseball game, and I told him I didn’t like sports. The third time, I told him I didn’t think we were a good match, but he told me to “let him be the judge of that.”

  Finally, I had resorted to the coward’s way out.

  Avoiding him

  I had Vanessa, Sue, and all my other colleagues at the clinic on high alert, to warn me whenever they saw Kevin Larkin in the area. My plan was to stay out of his sight, until eventually, I was out of his mind, as well.

  I hadn’t seen him at all in two days now, and I was hoping my plan was working, and that he’d soon be distracted by some hot ER nurse or other.

  “I just don’t know why he won’t leave me alone,” I was complaining to Vanessa over lunch. “He could have his pick of probably ninety percent of the single women at this hospital. What makes me such a big deal?”

  We were back at our favorite taco truck, and I had just polished off a carnitas taco and was nursing a Diet Coke.

  “Conquest. Challenge.” She waved her hand. “Guys like him don’t get rejected very often. I bet you anything that if you showed up on his doorstep panting like a puppy dog, he’d lose interest pretty quick.”

  “Maybe,” I mused. “Also, gross.” She may have been right about that, but I wasn’t willing to risk trying to go the reverse psychology route.

  Vanessa swallowed a bite of her taco and looked at me. “You know, Eva, just because you had one bad date doesn’t mean you should completely swear off the whole idea of dating.”

  Oh, man. I should have known that the Dr. Larkin disaster wouldn’t stop Vanessa from trying to play matchmaker for long.

  “For your information, it’s been a lot more than just ‘one bad date.’” I corrected her. “As you know. I have plenty of reasons to avoid men like the plague. So don’t give me that ‘one bad experience’ nonsense.”

  I had told Vanessa the bare bones about my emotionally abusive ex-husband David, and how long it had taken me to get free from his manipulation. Since I had been stupid enough to procreate with him while we were still married, I occasionally still had to deal with him from time to time — that is, whenever he would deign to call and talk to his daughter.

  Fortunately for me, but unfortunately for Zoe, those times were few and far between.

  “Okay, so you’ve had a few bad experiences,” she conceded. “But still, that doesn’t mean that all men are bad. Plus, people can change, can’t they? Just because someone screws up once or twice, it doesn’t mean you should write them off for good.”

  I had the weird sensation that we weren’t just talking about men in general. “Wait, are you seriously implying that I should give Larkin another chance?”

  “Aw, hell no,” she retorted. “That guy’s a douchebag.”

  We finished our lunch and took a quick walk around the block with our remaining lunch break time. As we walked back to the hospital, I finally let myself ask her a question I’d been trying to let go of for days.

  “So,” I said casually, “How is Trig Jackson’s therapy progressing?”

  She cut her eyes at me and shrugged. “Not that well, actually. He’s been missing some appointments, doesn’t seem that engaged in the treatment. I don’t know…” she trailed off. “He’s just not progressing. I think he might end up having that nerve damage be permanent.”

  “What?” I asked, shocked. I had done a lot of work with femoral neuropathy patients over the years, and had a good track record of getting most of them back to something approaching one-hundred percent of prior function. Vanessa had less experience than I had in that area, but I was confident she could get him to where he needed to be, provided he worked at it.

  “Yeah, I don’t understand it.” She shook her head. “He seemed motivated when we started, but I just can’t get him to take the therapy seriously. It’s like he thinks he’s just gonna magically heal up and everything will be back to normal.”

  When we got back upstairs to the clinic, I hopped on the computer and pulled up Trig’s file. Sure enough, he was only scheduling appointments once every two or three days. At this stage of his recovery, it wasn’t nearly enough to get him were he needed to be, unless he was doing a lot of exercises at home. Which, from what Vanessa had said, didn’t seem likely.

  Not that I cared, of course.

  Still, on a purely professional level, it nagged at me that someone would be potentially condemning himself to life-long difficulties when they were almost certainly preventable with proper treatment.

  I had noticed that Trig was scheduled for a session with Vanessa that afternoon, and without really planning to, I found myself lingering after my last appointment to see whether he would show up.

  When he sauntered in fifteen minutes late (How in the hell does that man manage to saunter with a cane?), I couldn’t stop myself from going out to say something to him.

  “Do you always waste Vanessa’s time by showing up late for your appointments?” I demanded as he approached the check-in desk.

  He looked up in surprise, then cocked an eyebrow at me.

  “Well, if it isn’t my former physical therapist. How’s it going, doc?”

  “I’m fine,” I said coldly. “I asked you a question. Do you always show up late to your appointments?”

  “Sometimes. When I show up.” A corner of his mouth went up in a half-smile. “What can I say? Stuff comes up sometimes. I’m a busy man.”

  “You do know that you’re in danger of having permanent problems with that leg,” I pointed out.

  “Yeah. Well.” He shrugged. “Whatever happens, happens, I guess. Besides, the therapy doesn’t seem to be doing me much good, anyway.”

  “Because you’re not taking it seriously!” I snapped, frustration getting the better of me. Good Lord, I couldn’t believe he was being so cavalier and irresponsible about this. “It’s not going to do any good unless you take it seriously!”

  “Well,” he said stubbornly. “Look. I’m sure she’s a perfectly good PT. But Vanessa… I dunno. I just don’t click with her as a therapist.” He looked at me. “You were better.”

  I studied him for a moment in confusion. Then my eyes widened. “This isn’t because she’s black, is it?”

  “What? No!” He looked genuinely shocked. “What the hell, Eva?”

  “Sorry,” I muttered.

  Damnit. I couldn’t figure out why he wasn’t happy with Vanessa. She was one of the best PTs I knew. But if he wasn’t clicking with her, for whatever reason, it was time to think about other options.

  “Okay,” I began. “If you’d rather change again, I suppose we could assign you to our third therapist, but…”

  “Eva.” He stopped me. “I’d really rather have you back as my therapist.”

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I said coldly.

  He took a deep breath, then let it out.

  “Look. This isn’t easy for me. I’m not… I’m not used to being laid up like this. I think you’ve got what it takes to get me back up to where I need to be to be able to ride again.” His eyes met mine, his expression sober. “Please.”

  Shit.

  I did not want to do this.

  I really, really did not want to do this.

  But professionally, it killed me to think about someone who had a good chance at getting better not succee
ding, especially when I knew I could help.

  Trig was silent as I struggled with how to respond. Finally I spoke.

  “Okay. But.” I looked him in the eye. “This is therapy. And therapy only. We only talk about therapy. Nothing else. No personal questions. Got it?”

  “Got it.” He nodded.

  “And no more showing up late to appointments.”

  “Promise.”

  “Okay, then,” I said reluctantly. God, I was pretty sure I was gonna regret this. “If you can abide by the rules… I’ll work with you. But I swear, if you start slacking off, I’m done.”

  “Eva?”

  “What?”

  “Thanks,” he said quietly.

  I was going to brush him off, but something in his voice made me hesitate.

  “You’re welcome,” I finally said.

  I went back to find Vanessa and let her know that Trig had shown up, and that if it was okay with her, I was taking him back on as a patient. “Take him,” she said, waving me off. “I can’t do anything with him. Maybe you’ll have better luck.”

  By the time all was said and done, we only had time for a short session, but Trig surprised me by working hard and staying on task. He hadn’t backslid as much as I was afraid he might have, which was a relief.

  At the end of the hour, I told him to go home and do a few more sets that night, and had Adele schedule him out with me for the next couple of weeks.

  11

  Trig

  I was trying to think of a way to thank Vanessa for figuring out a way of getting me back as Eva’s patient again. I thought about sending her a fruit basket or some shit, but I figured that might arouse some suspicions.

  So, for the moment, I settled with a quick thumbs up when I saw her in the hallway of the PT clinic a couple days later.

  Eva was clearly still pretty nervous around me, so I made damn sure to focus on the therapy and not talk about personal stuff at all. I figured I could wait her out. Despite her best efforts, she tended to be a little chatty during our sessions, which seemed like the result of nerves. Sooner or later, I figured, she’d be the one to break our “no personal talk” policy.