“Um, we want to have it in April. April twenty-seventh and twenty-eighth,” she said as she let out a deep breath. She grabbed the table as if to steady herself. Yep. She was definitely embarrassed. Bull almost felt sorry for her. But then he stopped himself. She was like all the others—like the ones in school who hadn’t bothered to give Adam, his little brother, a chance. What did it matter if a child had thinning hair, pale skin, and used a walker? Not a single kid in school had given his brother a break. He remembered the stares and how the kids pointed and referred to his poor family as them, making them feel like outsiders. He clinched his jaw, made a fist, and pushed it into the side of the chair. And later, when they’d found out Adam was dying, no one from his school even came to visit. Not even that witch of a teacher who’d worn big pearl earrings and had thought she was better than everybody else. He’s hated pearls ever since.
They’d all had their chance. Bull sat up straight, pulled to adjust his distressed vest and turned his head—and gaze—toward her, letting his short ponytail swish the top of the leather at his shoulders.
Why should Bull give this woman a break now?
April sat back down and released a deep breath.
A woman in the second group stood and said, “We’re going to have a bake sale.”
Crank snorted. “A bake sale?” he asked quietly. “Probably won’t bring in more than a couple a hundred dollars at best.”
Bull smiled and nodded at Crank in agreement. At least April had stayed with their group.
He leaned toward April. “You bake?” he asked.
She nodded and smiled. “I’m really good at red velvet cakes and sweet potato pies.” She paused. “Oh, I know how to make some killer lemon squares.”
“Lemon squares? How much would those bring in for Ben?” He smiled.
After the woman gave a few details about her bake sale, a man at the next table stood. “Our group is going to have a craft bazaar at the Summerbrook Square. We’ll need about four weeks to advertise the affair and get the donations.”
“So, you do crafts, too?” Bull asked April, figuring she’d prefer to be at any of the other tables than his.
“Oh, I can crochet and knit.”
“I bet you can.” Bull knew it. If only he had the chance to prove to her how much more the rally would help Ben. But he didn’t think he was going to get that chance with April. He knew her type. It would simply be a matter of time until she left their group.
The other teams followed, giving details about their events. A spring festival and quilt raffle. A car wash and candy sale. With each report, Bull recorded the amount the group would raise.
One of the young women at the table off to the side of the room stood. The whole table looked as if they’d gotten a memo to wear pink and green. Half appeared sort of stuffy and the other half prissy. Kinda like the one sitting next to him. He recognized some of the ladies. Megan Dillard, who was always showing up at his garage with her BMW, which was never broken. She just wanted to bat her eyes and show how short her skirts could get. He had no use for women like that. He also saw Mrs. Tradd and Mrs. Armstrong and figured the whole lot of them probably belonged to that ladies group that had shunned his mother.
“We’ve decided to sponsor a golf tournament at our country club,” the attractive young woman said.
Bull leaned in close and spoke. “Don’t tell me you play golf, too,” he whispered.
“No. I hope to learn one day, though.” She scribbled something on the notebook in front of her. “I guess I would need to belong to the country club first.” She scribbled some more and then glanced up at the ladies across the room. “However, that’s not about to happen anytime soon.”
It was so easy to read this woman. He could tell she wanted to be like the ladies at that other table. Sort of like the way so long ago he wanted to fit in with the kids at school.
There was something about April. He wasn’t quite sure what it was, but he didn’t want to blow it with her just yet.
He glanced at how she was nervously toying with the pearls about her neck. On second thought, who was he kidding? She’d already found out about his former involvement with Rebel Angels. Even though it had been so long ago. And he had been so young, but he knew that didn’t matter—not to some people.
After a few others spoke, Mr. Morrow said a few words and dismissed the meeting.
As soon as people started leaving the room, Bull’s phone rang. He took the call from his old friend and looked at April.
“Hey, Bull. I hear you’ve met one of my volunteers,” Bertie Houseman said.
“Yeah, she’s sitting right next to me.” He sat back, extending his legs and crossing his boots at his ankles.
“Well, I can’t get there and her friend has an overly active imagination and wants me to see her safely to her car. Wouldn’t do any good to tell her there was no need.” Bertie paused. “I’d owe ya.”
“Give me a break.” He paused. “No problem. Yeah, you do owe me.”
He ended the call, let out a deep breath, and leaned his head back. He looked at April and caught her gazing at him. Finally, he said, “So, you need an escort to get yourself out of here?”
Maybe she was worried about Slug still being out in the dark parking lot. Slug. Even if Slug had it out for her, he’d be too lazy to lift a finger to even attempt to hurt her. He was probably home right now. Snoozing.
“No, thank you. I’ll be fine,” she said as she gathered her things.
“Well, that’s not what Bertie Houseman just said.” Bull stood and looked straight into her eyes.
“You know Mr. Houseman?”
“Yes, very well. And he knew I’d be here. Fact, I was the one who told him about this whole deal.” He nodded at the room.
Her face grew red, and she started squinting again. There was no way for her to get out of the situation. She’d have to leave with him—a complete stranger. This was fun. He smiled.
She hugged the notebook as she walked out of Carolina Cow Steakhouse and past the ugly steer by the door. She surveyed the area. Probably for Slug.
She almost jogged toward her car at the end of the parking lot.
“You going to a fire?” he asked.
“It is pretty cold out here, you know,” she said.
He had almost forgotten. The poor woman didn’t even have a sweater to shield her from the frigid March air. Even he was surprised how cold it could get on a Carolina evening before summer set in. And this Sunday night felt frigid, even for March in South Carolina.
At her car, she turned. Shaking from the cold, she said, “Look. I know you heard my friend on the phone, and I know what you must be thinking, but I can assure you that—”
“Lady, I don’t need assuring. I have eyes and ears. And Bertie’s call cleared up anything that I didn’t already understand,” he said, trying to be careful of the way his voice sounded, trying not to let all the anger associated with his brother surface, trying not to let all the trouble that it led to ruin the rest of his life.
…
A chilled wind blew and cleared away some of the clutter in April’s mind. The little pricks of pain she had felt earlier vanished. There was that wonderful fragrance again.
She had to focus. She didn’t want her fears about them to give him the wrong idea. She wanted to do the right thing—to help Ben. And it wouldn’t hurt if she won over a few votes for the league in the process.
Still, it was so hard.
If only that man hadn’t swerved in front of them that night. If only her father’s leg had healed. If only half this side of town hadn’t been burned because of her family. If, if, if.
She couldn’t rely upon Bull to understand all that had happened. He would probably tell her to just get over it. But now her father had heart problems. Three heart attacks. She wasn’t going to give him a reason to have another. She could probably work behind the scenes and her father wouldn’t find out.
“What you really need to know is t
hat I am going to help, and I’m planning to work on this team. Everybody has a right to help.” She paused. “Everybody.”
Boy, were his eyes ever blue. They stirred the fireflies in her belly again.
“Well, we’ll see,” he said and looked into the backseat of her car.
What did he think he was doing—protecting her? Humph. If she did need protecting, she’d best have someone protect her from him. The nearness of him heightened her senses and set her off-balance. She needed to be careful.
She had to remember that she was at the back of a poorly lit parking lot with a total stranger—a total stranger who used to be a part of the very same gang—which years before gave her nightmares and started all the headaches. This whole evening needed to end. Fast. “I can handle things from here. You didn’t need to walk me all the way to—”
Without warning, Bull called out, “Holy cow!”
Everything seized inside. Her breath halted. Her body jerked. The notebook flew from her arms as she tripped backward over the cement curb. What had he seen? Slug?
Still staring into her backseat, he let out a laugh that she knew had to be coming from deep beneath tight abs under his very fitted shirt. He quickly composed himself and reached out to help her stand.
She looked up and into his handsome face and took his hand. Some kind of static bolt raced up her arm. Get a grip. She needed to focus on what this man was doing.
She could tell that he was trying desperately not to chuckle. “What’s so funny?” she asked. Her insides shuddered as she rose.
“Look, I’m sorry. It’s only that I thought I saw an accordion on your rear seat.” Correcting the upward curl at the left edge of his mouth, he forced his lips into an even line. He was smirking again. He reached down, picked up the spiral of discombobulated pages, straightened them, and held out the list and notes.
She brushed off the dust and pieces of gravel from her pleated skirt. As she took the notebook from him, she said, “It is an accordion.” She wouldn’t tell him how her whole family had been accordion players…how the instrument had connected her to Mimi, her grandmother. “It belongs to an elderly lady I know in my condo. I help her with it sometimes. It’s too heavy for her to—”
“No need for such a lengthy explanation.” He was still smiling, but she couldn’t tell if it was genuine or some kind of smirk. “I said it wasn’t mine.” Technically, it wasn’t. If he was a tough guy like she figured, he’d never understand how sentimental she was about Miss Adree, whom April loved like a grandmother. She was helping the ailing, elderly lady to teach Ben how to play.
“Fine. Fine. Whatever you say. It’s cool, though.” He held his hands in the air as if to stop her and looked her up and down. An awkward pause settled between them. “It is cold out here. You’d better be on your way. I’ll call you tomorrow about that list.”
She didn’t really believe he thought it was cool. He was probably being sarcastic. She couldn’t wait to get away from him and the confusion she felt around him. She nodded as she fidgeted with her keys in the car door.
Her insides felt funny—indignation, embarrassment, and a strange fascination mixed into something she didn’t recognize. The closeness of the man felt almost tantalizing. She couldn’t help herself from taking one last glance at him before opening the door.
“Thanks for walking me to my car,” she said.
“It was my…” He hesitated as one side of his lips inched upward again, and his eyes sparkled. “Pleasure.”
Once locked safely inside her Ford Taurus, she felt the shivers of cold and apprehension slow somewhat. She had to get a hold of herself. Keep her clarity. And keep her distance from that man—for so many reasons.
From her rearview mirror, she saw him watch her as she drove past the big cow statue and out of the parking lot. She didn’t know if his watchful eye was supposed to make her feel safer or even more frightened. And it didn’t matter because she wouldn’t stick around to find out. No matter how handsome he was.
April pulled up to her building, an old historic inn that had been converted into four condos. Home. Simply the sight of it calmed her. In it lived her, Miss Adree, Charlene Timmons, an old friend from high school, and safety.
She checked her watch. Only nine o’clock. Miss Adree was a night owl, so April decided to pay her a visit.
April knocked on the door, and Miss Adree let her in. April dumped her purse on the table beside two bags of groceries and piled herself in a heap on the couch.
“What’s wrong, dear?” Miss Adree asked, sitting next to her.
“Oh, Miss Adree, I had a horrible night,” April said.
“You look like you could use a glass of tea. I’ll be right back.”
April shook her head. All the old emotions had resurfaced.
Miss Adree returned with the tea. “Now tell me about it, dear.”
April obliged. “The whole evening was a disaster. You knew about how we were getting together to plan the fundraisers for Ben, right? Well, I ended up in a group I have nothing in common with.” She closed her eyes. “If only Jenna and her big mouth hadn’t gotten involved.”
“You can’t hold anything against Jenna, dear. She’s very protective. Brought me those groceries over there this very night. And a new lock for my front door.” Miss Adree took a sip from her own glass.
She wasn’t surprised. Jenna was like that. She was a mother hen to those she cared about. And a chicken snake to those she didn’t.
“April, Ben needs you right now. You not thinking about quitting, are you? I mean…how would that look?”
Bad. April couldn’t let anyone think that she was…uncooperative…or politically incorrect. She had to help. But Bull and chains and leather and beards—and her father’s cane—kept running through her head. Miss Adree wasn’t helping at all, and April eventually took possession of a full-blown migraine. It still needed sorting out, though. Whatever Bull had done when he’d belonged to that group shouldn’t even matter now that he was helping Ben. She’d simply have to get along with Bull to raise the money to help Ben, too.
…
Early the next morning, the phone woke her up. Mr. Houseman.
“I’m glad you called,” she said as she willed the cobwebs and sleepiness from her head and eyes.
“I’m so sorry about last night, but I had another family in crisis, and I couldn’t get away,” he said with sincerity in his voice.
She sat up. “Well, I understand, but you wouldn’t believe the situation I got myself into. Especially when Jenna got involved.”
“I know how Jenna can be, dear, but I knew you’d be fine. I’m friends with many of those people. They’re good folks. In fact, I used to ride with them all the time. Till the Humanity Project grew too large and Aiken Hughes asked me to take it over. ”
Wait. Back up. She couldn’t have heard what she thought she heard. “You own a bike?”
“You bet. Keep it in my garage. I don’t ride much any longer, though. Right now, it only sees fair weather on an occasional Sunday afternoon. I’ve been promising myself to take it out more, but I’ve simply been too busy.”
She threw her legs over the side of the bed. Mr. Houseman is a biker? How’d she not know that? She couldn’t imagine the slight, little, old man on a bike like Slug’s.
“I’ve known Bullworth for years. Met him when he first got on at the Hickory Street Garage long ago. That’s why I called him,” he said. “Best mechanic in town.”
Bullworth? Why, that was not a biker name at all. Almost sounded kind of stuffy. A biker mechanic named Bullworth?
Standing up, she started pacing. “I don’t think you understand what went on there. At first they thought I knocked over a motorcycle with flames on the tank.”
“Was Slug there last night?” he asked.
She pulled the phone away from her ear and looked at it. “Yeah. How’d you know?”
“Figures.”
“And then I actually insulted them. Unintentiona
lly, of course.”
“I have confidence that you can handle the Project’s interest in this fundraiser. You know how busy I am with all the families who’ve lost their homes recently.”
April looked at her alarm clock. She was running late. She had to be at the office by nine.
“I’ll do my best,” she said. They exchanged good-byes and she set down the phone. She jumped when she heard the loud ring of the phone again.
Assuming that it was Jenna, she picked up the handset and said, “I’m sorry I hung up on you last night, but you don’t know what I went through after your…half-crazed call.”
A low, even, male voice on the other end said, “What exactly did you go through after her call?”
It was Bull.
“Oh, I’m sorry.” Great. She’d just done it again. “I thought you were—never mind.”
“No. Please. Tell me about what you went through,” he said, amusement marking his words.
“What do you want?” she asked, still a bit perturbed at him.
“A copy of that list of names of the group members. Remember? I said I’d call. We need to get the others working on riders and sponsors.”
She buckled her watch onto her wrist, looked at it, and shook her head. He was Mr. On-the-Ball. She needed to stop being impressed, and she needed to keep reminding herself that Bull used to be a part of that Rebel Angels group the town passed so many ordinances against in an effort to run them out of town. “It’s only been a matter of hours. I don’t see the big rush.”
“I like getting things done,” he said.
“Look…I really do need to get to work, and I’m going to be late if I don’t get off this phone.” She glanced at her clock. “How about I call you this afternoon?”
“Sure. Say between twelve and one?” he asked.
Lunch break. That worked for her. She didn’t like using company time for nonbusiness calls.
“Talk to you then,” she said.
As she sprinted around her condo to get dressed in record time, Bull Clayton’s image kept popping into her head, confusing her thoughts. Her brain couldn’t merge all his contradictions.
Bikers and Pearls Page 3