by Dez Burke
31
Maggie
Toby was right.
The scenery while crossing the Smoky Mountains is spectacular. I hope he was being sincere about me coming back with him in the spring because I would love to.
The sun is setting quicker behind the mountains than the crew expected, so we don’t stop at the top of Newfound Gap. No matter how gorgeous the panoramic overlook view might be, I’m not eager to linger there either after overhearing the clerk at the gas station talk about sleet coming in.
It’s dark by the time we reach the other side of the mountain.
Instead of driving toward the tourist town of Gatlinburg, we turn off onto a two-lane road and go straight to the motorcycle lodge.
Jesse parks in front of a rustic, Swiss chalet-style building and the rest of the MC pull up alongside him.
“We made it,” Toby says after turning off the engine. He unbuckles his helmet and slides off the bike before helping me with mine. “Are you sore?” he asks with a knowing look.
“A little,” I admit, swinging my leg over the bike and stretching. “It’s similar to riding a horse when you’re not used to it. It’ll probably be a lot worse tomorrow.”
“I hope not. Let’s go inside and get warmed up. Would you like a hot coffee or cocoa while I get us checked in?”
“I would love something hot to drink. Anything.”
Truthfully, I’m frozen and chilled straight down to the bone.
No way am I complaining about it. Toby doesn’t need to tell me that the other Steel Infidels will be watching me for any sign of weakness. I don’t want to be an embarrassment or source of ridicule for him.
We step inside the lobby of a huge biker bar and restaurant. On one side of the room is a stone fireplace with a roaring fire. Flat-screen televisions line the other wall. Pool tables are tucked into all the corners. Wooden oak dining tables and chairs stretch from one end of the room to the other.
No private romantic dining table for two here.
An older man with long, grey hair that looks as if it hasn’t been washed in five years and a red bandana wrapped around his head hurries over to greet us.
“Jesse!” he says, reaching for Jesse’s hand and shaking it. “Welcome, welcome. I’m glad you arrived before the bad weather.”
“Barely,” Jesse says, grabbing the older man in a bear hug. “Good to see you, Jeb. How have you been? We appreciate you giving us a place to hide out for a couple of days. The amount of media hanging around the clubhouse is nuts.”
“We’re proud to have you,” Jeb replies. “When I saw your boys on the news,” he points over to Toby and Sam, “I jumped up from my chair and ran to get Tina. I was like, ‘Look! There’s those Steel Infidels right in the middle of trouble again!’ I was tickled pink when you called and asked for a place. I would’ve made room for you even if I had to throw someone else out.”
“I hope we’re not too much trouble,” Jesse says.
“Not at all. My girls fixed your rooms up for you. This is our slow season, so I put you in the chalets down by the creek. Normally they’re booked months ahead of time. Years in advance for the summer months. Before you all scatter and run off, I want to tell you now about the meals. The family-style dinner starts tonight at eight. Meat, potatoes, all the regular country side dishes. I closed the restaurant to the public so you’ll have the place to yourselves. We’ll serve a buffet breakfast in the morning whenever you want it.”
I stopped listening at the word ‘chalet’ and walked over to stand alone in front of the fireplace to warm my cold hands. I’m liking the sound of that. I’m already picturing a hot tub to soak my aching back in and a big, comfortable bed for us to stretch out on. I wonder if they have room service here?
After Jeb hands out the keys, we grab our one bag from the bike and follow his directions down an unlit dirt path running alongside the creek. At this point, I realize I might have been overly optimistic about the lodging accommodations.
It turns out my definition of a chalet is a little different than Jeb’s.
“Here we go,” Toby says. “This chalet is ours.” He points to a small, pre-fabricated wood building that looks as if it was rolled to its current location.
Four steps lead up to a front porch that is hanging precariously over the edge of the creek. If Toby wanted to go fishing, all he would have to do is stand on the porch and drop his fishing line straight down to the water.
Toby opens the door and turns on the lights. The chalet is one room except for the bathroom and is barely big enough for the full-size bed located in the middle. Knowing how Toby took up the entire king-size bed, I can’t imagine how we’re both going to sleep in this one.
“I’m not staying the night,” Toby says as if he read my mind. “It’s not safe.”
“You’re worried about having another nightmare?” I ask. We hadn’t discussed sleeping arrangements and I assumed we would be together.
“Not the nightmare. I’m worried about what I might do to you. I’ll bunk with one of the crew who doesn’t have a gal with him.”
I jump onto the bed and pat one side in an invitation. “There’s enough room if you don’t mind snuggling up with me. I’m a light sleeper. If it makes you feel better, I can lock myself in the bathroom if I hear you having a nightmare. I don’t want you to sleep somewhere else.”
He takes off his jacket and sprawls out on the bed next to me. The soft mattress sinks down with his weight and I roll against him.
“I don’t mind snuggling. What do you think these big old cuddle-straps are for, if not to cuddle my girl?” he jokes.
He throws an arm around me and pulls me close against his chest.
I reach over to squeeze his huge biceps. “I can’t think of a better use. How did you get such massive arms anyway? They’re muscles on top of muscles. Do you work out?”
“Occasionally,” he says. “Mostly to keep my strength up, not for show.”
“Strength for what? Lifting cars?”
“Car parts,” he answers. “You’re not too far off track.”
His fingers trail up and down my arm. It feels so good and I close my eyes.
“Did you enjoy your first bike ride?” he asks.
“I loved it,” I answer. “It was a thrill. Were you serious about coming back in the spring?”
“Absolutely! I’ll drive you anywhere you want to go, if you’re willing to ride,” he says. “We can even ride to California. I’ve never been, and it might be fun. We can drive down Route 66 and stop at all the tourist traps.”
“What about the Grand Canyon? Or Yellowstone National Park?”
“That sounds good, too,” he mumbles sleepily. “I’ve heard the Rockies in the fall are spectacular when the Aspen trees start to change color. We could go to Jackson Hole, Wyoming. Maybe even cross over into Canada.”
“I’ve always wanted to see the Grand Tetons,” I say. “We could make a big loop. Go north first and work our way down and around the country to see everything. How does that sound for a summer vacation?”
I’m rambling, dreaming out loud and only halfway serious. As fun as it sounds, I could never take that much time off work to travel around the United States.
When he doesn’t answer, I raise my head and look at him. He’s asleep with his long eyelashes touching his cheeks. It should be a crime for a man to have eyelashes so long and dark. Most women would kill for them.
He is peaceful and calm for a change. His heart is beating steady and slow underneath my ear. I would love to gently push his hair back from where it has fallen across his eyes, but I don’t want to wake him.
It’s weird how fiercely protective I feel for a big man more than twice my size.
I know why.
Toby is special.
Unlike any man I’ve ever met before. A true, one-of-a-kind, once-in-a-lifetime kind of man.
I wonder how he’s managed to escape being snatched up by another woman before now. They must’ve tried, especially the Sweet Butts
. Toby thinks he’s fooling me about their role in the MC, but after watching the girls, I’m onto the truth about them.
I slide my arm over his chest, snuggle up closer into his warmth, and close my eyes.
It doesn’t matter how many other women came before me.
I’m the one that’s here to stay.
I wake up to the sensation of warm lips pressing against my neck. When I open my eyes, Toby is leaning over me.
“We’re late for dinner,” he says. “Are you ready to meet everyone? The wives and the kids are here at the lodge now too.”
I roll over and bury my face back into the pillow. The pace of the last twenty-four hours is catching up to me, and I’m exhausted. “What time is it?”
“Eight-thirty. If you want something to eat, we’d better head over to the bar. Jeb serves the meals family-style, and the Steel Infidels can pack away food like you wouldn’t believe. If we wait too long, there won’t be anything but crumbs left. Plus it’s almost bedtime for the kids, and I want you to see them before they go to sleep.”
“What’s family-style?” I ask.
“It’s similar to eating at your Grandma’s house,” he replies. “Jeb brings out platters of food and we all pass them around the table. Sharing the bowls like one big family. Which we are.”
“I’ve never eaten family-style in a restaurant before,” I say. “It’s an interesting concept. Though I can’t see it catching on in the fancier five-star dining establishments.”
“First time for everything,” Toby says, slapping me playfully on the ass. “Stick with me and there’ll be lots of firsts.”
“Ouch, that stings!” I yelp.
“Sorry, couldn’t help it,” he says, his tone conveying he’s not sorry at all. “Your ass is too delicious not to be smacked.” He laughs when I rub where he spanked it. “And worshipped,” he adds. “Every day.”
I reluctantly swing my legs over the side of the bed and sit there a minute without moving. The inside of my thighs and butt are already sore, almost numb, from the bike ride.
I dread standing up and trying to walk. I’m in good physical shape and try to work out on a regular basis. This is a different kind of soreness.
“You’re feeling the ride now, aren’t you?” Toby asks, frowning. “Anything I can do to help? I warned you our bike rides are rough. You’ve got to break your riding legs in. Like a new saddle. Unfortunately, there’s no easy or quick way to do it. Nothing except time on a bike. I promise you, it will get better.”
I stand up and feel the burn throughout my body. “When?” I groan.
“Three days?” he offers.
I walk stiffly around the room and do a few stretches for my back and legs. It’s not getting better. I’ll fake it until I make it. No matter how much pain I’m in, I’m not letting the other Steel Infidels know.
Toby watches me struggle then snaps his fingers with an idea. “You know what you need?” he asks. “I have just the thing.”
“A deep-tissue massage?” I reply with a hopeful look.
“A double shot of strong whiskey. That’ll help more than anything.”
“It can’t hurt,” I say. “You’ve already talked me into it. If I get wasted, promise me you’ll carry me back. I’m a lightweight when it comes to alcohol.”
“Deal,” he says.
We leave the cabin and start down the dark path back to the bar. Toby slips his arm around me for support so that I won’t stumble or trip over a tree root. Considering the circumstances, I should be relieved that we’re not camping out in a tiny tent underneath a tree. At least we have a bathroom, heat, and running water.
Things could always be worse.
Once we reach the front door of the bar, he removes his arm and ushers me in front of him into the cavernous room. The dinner is already in full swing.
If it can be called that.
The scene in front of me reminds more of a huge beer hall in Germany than the quiet family dinner Toby led me to believe would be happening. I was expecting the Steel Infidels to be seated at the big tables with the kids strapped into high chairs, passing around bowls of food and making polite conversation.
Boy, was I wrong.
At least, Toby had the food part correct. One long table is covered with big platters of everything from fried chicken to squash casserole to homemade blueberry pies. The food smells scrumptious.
It’s all the other stuff going on that confuses me.
Loud rock music is blasting through the bar’s surround-sound stereo system. Our future weather girl, Chloe, as I’ve come to think of her now, is standing in the middle of a pool table doing a slow, grinding dance. Her eyes are closed and with the sexy moves she’s making, I could swear she’s a stripper.
A handful of bikers are gathered around the pool table, holding bottles of beer and egging her on. I don’t see the man she rode over here with. I guess it doesn’t matter. She obviously belongs to the whole group. The thought is disturbing.
“Show us your tits!” one of the younger men yells up at her. “Let us see those fat nipples.”
Chloe smiles at him and reaches for the hem of her tight white sweater and starts to pull it over her head.
“Whoa! Hang onto your shirt!” A short woman with curly dark hair standing in front of the fireplace rushes across the room and stops at the pool table. She puts her hands on her ample hips and looks up at Chloe, who has abruptly stopped dancing. “Chloe! What are you doing? Get down from there this instant. The kids are here. Show some decency for once.”
Chloe appears more confused than ashamed. “Sorry, Kendra,” she tries to explain. “It was their idea.” She waves a hand at the men hanging around the pool table.
Kendra rolls her eyes and shakes her head in dismay. “Chloe, it’s perfectly okay to think for yourself sometimes.” She turns around and smacks the oldest man in the group hard on his arm. “Tom Brewer, I’m surprised at you. You’re too old for this silliness. How old are you now? Almost fifty? Help her down for heaven’s sake. What are you all thinking? Do you not see little Josh and Missy over there trying to eat dinner? Can’t you at least wait until they go to bed before you start this foolishness?”
She points to a table in a corner where a curly-headed little boy about three years old and a younger, blonde-haired girl are sitting. They’re giggling and stealing food from each other’s plate.
I glance up at Toby. “Who is she?” I whisper. “I love her already.”
He chuckles. “That spitfire would be Flint’s wife, Kendra. She’s hell on wheels and doesn’t put up with any shit from nobody. Especially not from one of the Sweet Butts.”
My kind of woman.
“She’s the town veterinarian. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve called her in the middle of the night after Sadie has eaten something she shouldn’t. Usually popsicle sticks or a roll of paper towels.”
“Are those her kids?” I ask.
“Josh belongs to Flint and Kendra, while Missy is Jesse and Trisha’s pride and joy. Missy is named after their mom. She passed away several years ago from breast cancer when Sam and I were in high school. It’s a shame because she would have loved her grandbabies.”
He motions to a pretty young woman with long brown hair sitting with the kids. “That’s Trish, Jesse’s wife. Jesse met her in Panama City Beach, Florida. The Steel Infidels went down there for Flint’s bachelor party and all hell broke loose. I was in Afghanistan at the time, so I missed out on all the fun.”
“So almost everyone in the Steel Infidels is taken except for you?”
“Who says I’m not taken?” he jokes. He slings an arm around my shoulder and pulls me tight against him. “Let’s get a drink at the bar and I’ll introduce you to everyone.”
We make our way over to the long wooden bar that stretches along one wall. Several crew members and Sweet Butts are crowded close around it instead of sitting on the bar stools.
“Be careful!” I hear one of the bikers suddenly yell.
“Watch out and don’t fall!”
The group goes dead silent, then applause breaks out. Something is going on that I can’t see through the crowd. Maybe another Sweet Butt is performing a specialty act, like standing on her head or something equally ridiculous since there’s a risk of falling.
Toby squeezes us in beside Sam, who is leaning on the bar with a beer in his hand. “What’s going on?” he asks. He positions me in front of him so I can get a better look.
“See for yourselves,” Sam says, waving his bottle toward the end of the bar. “You would think the long car ride would’ve worn them out. But no…”
I peek over his shoulder. One of Sam’s toddlers is charging full speed on chubby little legs down the middle of the bar that has been cleared of all glassware. When he reaches the end, he fearlessly dives off without hesitation into his Uncle Jesse’s big, tatted arms like he’s crowd-surfing at a rock concert.
He squeals in delight when Jesse tosses him high up into the air then stands him back up on the bar to run in the other direction. When he’s halfway there, he passes his twin brother who is doing the same thing, only slightly slower. The twins briefly reach out to touch fingertips as they pass and then keep going. Flint is working the other end of the bar, grabbing and throwing them the same as Jesse.
“This is what the Steel Infidels do for entertainment?” I say to Toby over my shoulder. “Toddler juggling?”
“They’re only getting started,” Toby replies with a laugh. “The twins could do this all night and never get tired. I told you they were spoiled. The kids have the entire MC at their disposal. It takes all of us to keep them out of trouble. Look at Lila over there, playing defense and trying to make sure they don’t fall off the other side. The poor woman never gets any rest.”
Guarding the other side of the bar is an edgy-looking woman with shoulder-length red hair with bright purple streaks. She’s wearing a pair of tight jeans and a t-shirt that says, “Fear the Honey Pot.” Her arms are crossed nonchalantly. She isn’t the least bit concerned that her twins are in imminent danger of breaking a bone if they fall off or if they’re dropped. She’s cool and calm.