Feeling nervy and insecure, Bibi compensated with sass. She put her hands on her hips. “Do ya? Then what are you doin’ here now?”
“You’ve been watching me. Thought I’d come over and see if you’d changed your mind.”
“I ain’t been watchin’ you.”
He only lifted his eyebrows. Satirically.
“Well, I ain’t changed my mind, anyway.”
“You need a ride home?”
“What?”
“That’s what your friend Tony was about—you heading home alone. Not a very good neighborhood around here. I’ll take you. Just a ride.”
“And why do you think I’d say yes? I don’t know you from Adam’s off ox.”
“You always talk like that?”
“Like what?”
“Like you just came off the farm.”
“Fuck you, mister. I’m no hick. I grew up in a subdivision.”
“Well, I am a hick. I grew up on a farm.” He held out his hand. “I’m Hoosier.”
“Hoosier? That’s your name? Your mama didn’t like you much, did she?” She ignored his hand.
He left it out, waiting for her. “It’s a nickname. The name on my ID is Jerome.”
That wasn’t much better. “I stand by my statement.”
He laughed. “I like Hoosier better. But my mama liked me just fine. You got a name, sweet cheeks?”
Anything to get him to stop calling her that. Not sure why she wasn’t turning right around and leaving, she answered, “Bibi.”
“That a nickname?”
“Sorta. But you don’t need to know what for.”
Now he reached out and grabbed her hand and shook for her. “Nice to meet you, Bibi. Can I offer you a ride home?”
The thought of walking home alone was just gross. And he was kind of nice. Gentlemanly, even. Knowing she was being stupid, she narrowed her eyes and tried to look tough. “Just a ride?”
“If that’s all you want, then yeah. Just a ride.”
“What about your angry friend?”
“Blue? He’s fucking the drummer. I’m on my own tonight.” Then he laughed. “He looks angrier than he is.” Stepping close, he put his mouth near her ear. He smelled of cigarettes and whiskey. And leather. “You accepting my offer?”
He made her feel safe and wanted, and tonight those feelings were in short supply for Bibi. “For a ride home. Only that.”
He nodded.
“Okay.” Behind him, she saw Tony heading back their way, and he was bringing friends. “We should go. Like now.”
He looked back, and she saw him hesitate, like he was seriously considering taking on the four angry punks headed his way.
She grabbed the back of his kutte and pulled. “Come on! Let’s move. Please.”
He turned and gave her a conflicted look. Then he put his hand on the small of her back and ushered her quickly forward.
THREE
The door to Hoosier’s room opened, and a nurse Bibi didn’t recognize came in. She looked up at the clock on the wall—God, it was after four. She’d been talking almost nonstop for hours, sitting side by side on the bed with her man. They were still holding hands, their fingers entwined.
Hoosier’s thumb brushed back and forth along the length of her own. When Bibi turned her head to see his face, he was staring at their hands. She didn’t think he’d even noticed that someone had come in.
“Hi,” said the nurse. “I’m Monica. I’m just starting at the Center today. Mr. Elliott, you’re my first patient here!”
Bibi gave her a suspicious look. She didn’t want any wet-behind-the-ears novice taking care of her man. But Monica seemed a little older. Thirties, maybe. “This your first job?”
“No, ma’am—Mrs. Elliott, is it?”
Bibi nodded.
“I’ve worked rehabilitative care for more than ten years. My family and I just moved to California. But if you’re asking if I know what I’m doing, then yes, I do.”
“Okay, then. You need him?”
“Yes. Mr. Elliott and I have some things to attend to. It’s been a while.”
Hoosier didn’t like Bibi to help him with his personal needs. He got angry and agitated when she tried. He wasn’t incontinent, but he wasn’t walking well yet, and he was still re-learning how to manage the bathroom—the toilet, the shower, all of it. And he preferred a nurse to help him.
It was those things—his nonverbal fury when he was embarrassed or frustrated, his quiet, loving attention to her when she was with him, his deep, desperate focus when she needed to leave—that told her that her man was inside this body that she knew so well but had become so alien. He was in there. Her Hooj. She wondered what it was like for him, to be there, to know, and yet to be unable to make himself known, to be unable to do things he knew he should be able to do.
He broke her heart. Every single day.
When she tried to get up from the bed now, his hand clamped down hard around hers. Covering their entwined hands with her other, she kissed his cheek. He was finally getting his beard back, and it looked like the minimal scarring on his face wouldn’t get in its way. He hadn’t had a beard when they’d met or for the first years of their life together, but when he’d decided to grow one, it had come in full and beautiful, and he’d let it grow long and never shaved again. It had come to be an important part of him, and she loved that thing.
“Monica here is gonna help you get cleaned up, baby. I won’t be far at all. I’m just gettin’ to a good part of the story. Remember that first night?”
He smiled, but Bibi didn’t know if he was remembering or simply smiling at her because he loved her. Either way, it made her eyes prick.
“I’ll be back in a lick, Hooj.” She kissed him on the lips, and then she got up and left Monica and her husband to do their thing.
~oOo~
She checked in on Margot, planning to sit with her dear friend for a while, but Margot was having a bad day. Her bad days were violent, so she’d been sedated. Bibi sat at her bedside for a while, and then she went to the little café in the atrium and had a coffee and picked up a sandwich and a soda for later. It would be Hoosier’s dinner time when she got back to his room, she knew, and he liked to eat together.
Spending aimless time in this place depressed the hell out of her. As nice as it was, and as good and conscientious as the staff were, the San Gabriel Center was still a place that didn’t offer people much hope. Hoosier’s wing was the only part of the whole, sprawling place where there was a chance the patients would ever leave. Everyone else lived here and, unless their money ran out, would die here.
Money. Though their medical insurance was covering only a fraction of the cost of this place, money wasn’t much of a concern for Bibi and Hoosier. The club was earning as well as she could ever remember any club Hoosier had been with—and he’d been with three—earning. As President, his cut was substantial. But the fire had burned up several hundred thousand dollars that Hoosier had hidden away in the walls and floorboards of their house, and she knew they’d feel that eventually. As far as Bibi knew, none of the cash had been discovered. It had apparently been reduced to ash
The fire had burned so intensely and completely that virtually nothing had been left but ash. The investigation was over. The fire had been declared arson, but she and Hoosier had not been held responsible, so eventually, insurance would pay out. Then, and after Hoosier was back and healthy, they would begin to build a new life.
Wouldn’t be the first time they’d rebuilt from destruction.
~oOo~
Hoosier was freshly showered and dressed when Bibi got back to his room. His meal had arrived, but it was sitting untouched on the table across his bed.
He was waiting for her, she knew.
“What you got tonight, Hooj?” She lifted the cover off his plate. “Oh, meatloaf and mashed. Not bad.” She set her sandwich on the bedside table and cut his meat for him. He’d learned again how to use his utensils, but cutting was stil
l a challenge.
She smiled, thinking about his deft way with a knife before.
“You know, I still don’t know what on God’s green earth possessed me to take a ride home from you that first night. You could’ve been a slasher. Hell, you could have been the Night Stalker. Or wait—he was later, wasn’t he? You remember that guy? Ramirez, I think his name was? Yeah, yeah, that was later. Anyway, there was somethin’ about you from right off. That damn smile of yours. Like a naughty gentleman. Did funny things to my heart.”
She finished, and he picked up his fork and got a bite of meatloaf to his mouth. Bibi unwrapped her sandwich and sat on his bed, facing him across his bed table. “I sure am glad I did take that ride, though. Changed my life.”
They’d been together ever since.
~oOo~
They’d mounted up and pulled away just as Tony and friends came out the front door, so Biker Boy—Hoosier—didn’t take the time to try to tell her how to ride. That was okay; she knew. She tucked her big skirt around her legs so she wouldn’t flash everyone her plain white panties, and she held on.
She’d intended to hold his hips, just the bare amount of holding to stay securely seated as he hit the throttle, but the muscles along his sides were so firm, like iron, that she found her hands sliding around, over his belly. None of the men she hung out with these days were muscular. A few had nice bodies, but they were skinny-nice, not strong-nice. This guy’s body was strong-nice. By the end of the first block, she was snugged up tightly to his back and thinking very un-Baptist thoughts.
And that was crazy. Gina wasn’t coming home tonight, apparently. Bibi absolutely could not let this strange man into the apartment. This strange man who had a knife. A switchblade, in point of fact.
As they approached the intersection to her street, she tapped Hoosier’s shoulder and pointed to the right. He turned without slowing much, leaning the bike so far over that Bibi thought she could have reached out and put her hand on the asphalt. Instead, she tightened her hold around his waist and felt his muscles move when he laughed.
“Okay, stop,” she called over the loud rumble of his Harley. Pointing again, she indicated their building, and he pulled up to the curb and killed the engine.
“Is there parking in back?” he asked as he held out his arm to help her dismount. When she was on her feet, he swung his leg over and stood before her.
“Why? You dropped me home, and thank you for it. But you don’t need to park.”
She wanted him to park. Switchblade and all, she was horny. She was also lonely. Gina was her only true friend, and she’d been a total hag tonight.
Gina could be nasty when she was wasted, but usually she turned her shit on guys. Or women she didn’t know. Tonight was the first time that Bibi had gotten the blast herself.
Hoosier brought a hand to her face and swept his thumb over the top of her cheekbone, just below her eye. When he took his hand back, he studied the pad of his thumb, which was smudged with eyeliner. “You’re so fucking pretty. Damn, those eyes. You don’t need all this crap.” To punctuate that statement, he put his hand on her hair, and she heard the crackle of the sculpting spray that kept her spikes where she wanted them. “It’s like you’re trying to make yourself look…hard.”
She knew she should be offended, but his tone wasn’t insulting or condescending. Bibi didn’t know what it was, but it took the edge off the words, so instead of getting mad, she tipped her head away, feeling embarrassed, almost ashamed, and simply said, “It’s the way we all do it. The style.”
“Whose style? Yours?”
Now she was getting mad. “What’s it to ya? And if you don’t like the way I look, what the hell’re you doin’?”
Oh, damn. There was that smile. Bibi looked away. He took her chin and turned her back to face him. “How old are you, Miss Bibi Miss’ippi?”
Finding her backbone again, she put her hands on his chest and shoved him back. “Old enough. And you’re pretty darn rude for askin’. How old are you?”
He took the step that brought his close again. “Didn’t mean to be rude. But standing here, you look younger than I thought. I want to make sure you’re old enough before I kiss you.” His thumb traced over her bottom lip. “Because this is a gorgeous mouth.”
Swallowing hard, trying to remember that he was being presumptuous and arrogant, that he had a knife, that he was a stranger, she said, “Just a ride, I thought. You can go now.” He hadn’t moved his thumb, and her lips moved on it as she spoke.
“You want me to?”
“Kiss me.” She’d meant it as a question, because she wasn’t sure if he was asking if she wanted him to kiss her or if she wanted him to go. But it came out an imperative—a plea, even—and he smiled and bent his head toward hers.
He came down slowly, and she could have backed away. But she didn’t.
And oh, that mouth was even better at kissing than it was at smiling. At first, he simply brushed his lips over hers, back and forth, until Bibi felt the tingle and clench in her core that made her restless and impatient. She took hold of his kutte in both hands and opened her mouth.
She felt him smile, and then his tongue was in her mouth, and his hands were on her ass. The skirt of the dress was short; the crinoline provided most of what coverage there was. But he didn’t go searching for bare skin. He simply held on and squeezed her body to his, deepening the kiss with every breath.
When she let go of his kutte and snaked her arms inside it, he groaned and pulled his head from hers. “I want to have you.”
That was at least the second time he’d said something that sounded like it had come out of a novel. She should have laughed at him. Gina would have laughed at him. But Bibi thought it sounded romantic.
“Please don’t be a serial killer.”
She caught the ghost of an expression that seemed important, but then it was gone, and his hand was on her face again. “I won’t hurt you.”
~oOo~
Bibi moved the bed tray over to the window and helped Hoosier clean up. She wiped the crumbs from his beard and gave him a warm washcloth to wipe his hands. As she smoothed her hand over his beard, she whispered, “That was when I fell in love with you, you know. I don’t think I ever said that before. Don’t know why. But it was then, when you looked down at me and said you wouldn’t hurt me. I believed you right off. And I loved you.”
She settled at his side and laid her head on his shoulder. “And you never have hurt me, Hooj. You’ve made me furious. You’ve made me crazy. But you’ve never hurt me. Not one day in all the years since.”
His hand clenched hard around hers, and Bibi knew he’d understood her.
Because she knew Hoosier believed he had hurt her terribly at least once in their years together. He remembered enough to know that.
But maybe that wasn’t a memory they needed to relive.
He was in there, though. He remembered; he was with her, even if they couldn’t quite reach each other yet. Tears blurred her vision. “No, baby. You’ve never hurt me. Not ever.”
~oOo~
Bibi woke the next morning with a strong, tattooed arm around her. She took a deep breath and sank into the calm of that touch, feeling his warm body, the hair of his arms, legs, and chest behind her, around her, against her bare skin. She felt content and secure.
She’d never been with a guy with a hairy chest before. It was sexy. And she’d never had a lover like he was before. Joel and she had had what she thought of as amateur sex—sweaty, but not exactly effective. And these days, usually what she had were quick, drunken grapples. It wasn’t like her crowd did dates or anything like that, and it wasn’t like she had the chance to meet other people. Her clientele at Nordstrom was primarily female. Every now and then, a man would come looking to buy something as a gift, and every now and then, one of those men would make a pass, but that was just gross.
So she had sex with the guys she knew, and then they, or she, went home.
Hoosier was…w
ell, he’d been a lover. He’d gone down on her—and now she’d need both hands to count how many times in her life that had ever happened—and he’d known what he was doing. Better yet, he hadn’t shoved her toward his crotch like he’d expected quid pro quo.
And when they’d fucked, he’d held off, both times, until she came. He’d kissed her and touched her, and he’d been vocal. Not just grunting and groaning, but talking. Telling her how good she felt, how she tasted. And dirtier things, too.
Dream & Dare Page 3