Bikers and Pearls

by Vicki Wilkerson

  Jenna raised her eyebrows and said, “You gonna eat that?” She leaned in to get a whiff of the hissing.

  “Someone told me recently that different can be fascinating and delicious,” April said.

  “Perhaps,” Jenna said and settled back down to her shrimp and grits. After taking a few bites, she put her spoon down. “Sweetie, I’m going to talk to Mrs. Legree and see if there’s anything else our shop can do for Ben.”

  April smiled. Her friend always came through for her. Though, sometimes not until the end.

  “Okay. Saturday. I’ll have to meet you at the country club, though. Mrs. Legree wants me to work until six,” Jenna said, picking up a spoonful of grits.

  That was just as well. April couldn’t quite muster up the courage to tell Jenna that she was going with Bull. At least April would have a friend there.

  April kept taking delicious bites from the Mexican fiesta on her plate. All the while, she was thinking of Bull. His spicy blue eyes, his scandalously sexy hair, his risqué black jacket. The peppery food in front of her had nothing on that man. And she couldn’t get enough of either.

  “Let me taste that,” Jenna said as she pierced a few pieces of April’s food with a fork.

  “Mmmmm. That’s really good,” Jenna said with her mouth full. She went for more.

  Even April’s cautious friend appeared to like a little spice in her life.

  When April finished the last bite of her dinner, her stomach sizzled. She had better get used to it, though. Because she was about to jump off the hissing skillet and into the fire with Bull.

  …

  The week passed by quickly for Bull. It was spent in an endless coming and going of cars, trucks, and bikes. The men in his garage fixed them all quickly and sent them on their way. It was good that he’d stayed busy. When he wasn’t, April and her Humanity Project people kept clogging his mind with contradictions.

  Surely, some of the people there remembered the trouble the Rebel Angels had caused in town years ago. However, no one uttered a word about the gang. The reception from her group was not what he had expected. But what did he expect? To have tomatoes thrown at them? Instead, they opened their arms and their farms and their bakeries and welcomed all his friends like they were a bunch of bank presidents or something. And they’d offered them help—real help.

  Help like his family had never received for Adam. Maybe he’d had the whole situation with Adam figured out wrong.

  He was confused about everything—especially April. Even through her apprehension of him and the bikers, she kept working for Ben. Slug and his broken mirror may have started it, but there was more. He could tell. Though he wasn’t sure where to begin, he still wanted to unravel the rest of the complicated young woman.

  Bull washed his hands in the garage sink. It was only a couple days until that silent auction at that hoity-toity country club that April knew so well.

  He walked to his office to complete some paperwork. A strange question shot through his head. What was he going to wear? Before April, he always knew how to dress. It would be jeans and a leather vest or chaps and a fringed jacket. Why should he even be thinking about a set of clothes to wear to a stuck-up old country club?

  He could have some fun if he wore his leather suit—jacket, pants, and tie—all 100 percent black leather. But no. Not this time. He didn’t want to embarrass April.

  No. More than that. He wanted to impress her.

  Imagine that.

  As he filed some of the paperwork he was working on, he noticed his tattoo. The one with the dark angel, laden with chains and leather, holding a gun in one hand and a sword in the other. He wished he hadn’t marked himself with the anarchy. It served to remind him how different he and April were. He didn’t like the reminder. It was time to do something he’d been thinking about for a while. Alter the Rebel Angel. He decided to make an appointment to change the weapons in the dark angel’s hands to symbols that represented who he was now.

  The Angel would forever be a part of him. He hoped that April would understand that. Yep. He wanted to impress her, but he couldn’t do it if it meant giving up who he was.

  …

  Bull pulled up to April’s condo, walked inside the building, and knocked on her door. He looked down at his expensive designer suit and could hardly believe he was wearing it.

  When she opened the door and he saw her, something tumbled in his heart.

  What had he done right lately? Her lace dress was nearly the color of her skin. She looked so soft. Innocent and sexy at the same time.

  “You are perfectly beautiful,” he said. She was. He simply wanted to push her back into her condo, turn down the lights, and trace the curvy patterns on her dress. All over her dress. And if she didn’t mind that, he could trace a few other curves, as well. He took a couple of steps inside.

  “Thank you,” she said and smiled. She touched his tie and ran her fingers down to the button of his suit. “You look pretty handsome yourself.”

  Bull searched for words. Appropriate ones. “I have the jacket in the car.” That was dumb.

  “Jacket?” she asked as she picked up a beaded purse from the coffee table.

  “You know. The jacket Crank asked us to bring,” he said.

  “Oh, yeah.” Her smile was angelic.

  He stared some more, unable to speak.

  Finally, she broke the silence. “Do you want to take my car?”

  “I drove the Escalade.” He wished he had a Rolls or a Jaguar or a Mercedes—something less aggressive-looking and more suited to this woman all dressed in lace and pearls. The Escalade would have to do tonight, though.

  He watched her as she walked over to turn out a lamp. Her tan-colored shoes matched her dress. Mmmmmm. Her ankles were sculpted. Her calves were curved. Hips that belonged on a movie star. A waist that he could encircle with one arm. And her breasts. The dress dipped to expose their tops, and with each step she took, he rattled inside, matching the bounce of the swells spilling out the lace neckline.

  He couldn’t resist. He took a couple steps toward her and put his hand on her almost absent waist and it encircled half of it. Bending down to her hair, he inhaled. She stilled. Then to her shoulder. He breathed her in again. He gently ran his lips up the side of her neck and whispered in her ear. “I wanted to see if you smelled as good as you looked.”

  She turned her head up to him. “And do I?”

  “Mmmmmm,” he growled in her ear. He moved his lips along her cheeks until he reached her mouth, and then he covered it with his and took in a huge taste. Sweet. And now his pants didn’t quite fit the way they had when he first arrived. He spoke against her lips. “I was hoping you’d planned on kissing me again.”

  She pulled in several ragged draws of air. “I’m afraid I’ve not been very good at planning anything lately,” she said as he felt the heat of her breath on his lips. “Especially you.”

  “Well, we do have plans for the evening, so, as much as I like this, we’d better get going,” he said. Man, he couldn’t believe he had the strength to say that. But if he stayed a moment longer, he couldn’t trust himself to be the gentleman that April needed.

  As he drove, he half wished for red lights so that he could gaze at her.

  “So, tell me about your family,” she said.

  He wished she hadn’t asked about that. “Not much to tell. You already know about Adam. Dad split when Adam was diagnosed. Mom worked two jobs to keep the lights on.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “That had to have been tough.”

  He nodded.

  “Left here,” she said.

  “What about yours?” He made the turn.

  “Normal. Mother. Father. And me. Daddy owned a hardware store. Lived in Summerbrook all my life. They’ve always been very supportive. And overprotective. Along with my grandparents. I was very close to my Mimi before she passed a few years back,” she said.

  Yep. Bull sort of knew all of that. It was the kind of family h
e’d wanted as a child. Life, however, dealt him another hand.

  “Take a right at the next light.”

  He pulled up to the door of the Oaks Country Club. Heat flashed over his face. The last thing he wanted to do tonight was to embarrass April. His unbound hair would be out of place with the country club crowd. He knew that. He had it as slicked back and as tame as he could get it. Maybe his expensive suit and Italian shoes would make up for it.

  He knew better, though. He was in the small-town South. And he knew the code—the unwritten regulations for proper Southerners—the rules that were mostly passed down from generation to generation through disapproving looks and innuendo. No ponytails, leather, or inappropriate hobbies. They were only a part of the list of reasons for exclusion from haute Southern society. He might pass with the regular folk, but not with the crowd of land-inheriting, anciently named snobs he was about to meet. It didn’t matter how much he spent on his shoes, his hair marked him as an outsider. Oh, they’d be pleasant enough to his face—only because Southern manners required it.

  After they’d pulled up, he opened April’s door. She appeared to just float out the vehicle. He didn’t even want to be here now. Couldn’t he drive her to White Point Gardens in downtown Charleston, sit alone with her on a bench, and just talk with her the whole evening?

  Oh. That’s right. The jacket. All he could think about was April. And the taste of her mouth. For a moment, he wished he could leave the coat in his SUV. He could donate five or six hundred dollars and leave it there so as not to make himself stand out so much from his beautiful date. But that would be a little dishonest, and he had promised Crank. So he got the fringed jacket with the Harley insignia on the front and back and folded it, wishing to diminish its presence.

  He handed the keys to the valet.

  “This way,” April said, as she walked toward the grand entrance. The facade was white stucco and the walk was tabby—a mixture of concrete and oyster shell, a common construction material in the Lowcountry, a historic area along the South Carolina coast. The building looked like something from Gone With the Wind, the movie his mother used to watch when he was a kid. He was certainly gone with the wind, or at least gone with the little waft of heavenly scented air April left in her wake as she walked. This was serious.

  A host and hostess greeted them at the door.

  “The silent auction is in the Azalea Room, and refreshments and the raffle are in the Oak Room. We’re raffling off a jet ski, a diamond necklace, and a couple of other big items,” the hostess said.

  Bull thought April would look good in a diamond necklace.

  “May I take your…coat?” the man asked.

  Bull recognized the tone in the man’s voice. “It’s a donation.”

  The host gingerly took the jacket from Bull. April looked up from filling out their registration tickets. “Anything wrong?” she asked.

  Bull shook his head. Nothing could really be wrong tonight. Not while he was with her.

  “Good. I put our names on the two free tickets,” she said.

  “Can we buy more?” he asked the woman behind the table.

  The perky young hostess chimed in with her super Southern drawl. “You certainly can. We’re here to raise money for that darlin’ little boy with leukemia. You may buy as many as you like.”

  “Give me twenty-five tickets.”

  “Sir, I don’t think you understand.” She leaned in to him. “They are twenty dollars apiece.”

  No, she didn’t just assume that he didn’t have the money. Anger rose up in his chest. “Make that thirty then. Under one condition,” he said as he doled out the six hundred dollars onto the table and covered them with his hand.

  “Anything.” A smile enveloped her face, and she touched the hand that covered the money.

  Things changed when she figured out he was walking around with a load of Grants in his pockets.

  “You write this pretty lady’s name on each one so that I can take care of her and get her something to drink,” he said and abruptly pulled his hand away.

  “Oh,” the woman said flatly. Her smile disappeared. “I can do that.”

  He told her April’s name, turned toward his date, and smiled.

  April stood, smiling with an appreciation of the situation. As he walked her down the long, wide corridor, he saw men’s heads turn as she passed. He stepped up beside her and placed his hand on the small of her back to guide her. To show everyone that he was with the most beautiful woman in the building.

  The corridor opened up into a cavernous ballroom. Showtime. Bling. And phonies. Like he had figured.

  “You want some punch?” he asked.

  Her deep brown eyes widened and she said, “I’m parched. Please.”

  “Be right back,” he said, and couldn’t have meant it more. He didn’t want to leave her in the first place, but he was as thirsty as she was. Something about her made his mouth quit working properly.

  In moments he was back, and already two sissy-looking guys in suits and GQ haircuts were at April’s side. “Here you are, sweetheart,” he said, hoping the word of familiarity would scare the posers away without scaring the daylights out of April.

  “Thanks, darling,” she said and smiled. She was quick.

  The two lawyer types made their excuses, walked a few paces away, and whispered to one another.

  This was what it was going to be like to be with her. It wasn’t even fair of him to subject her to such small-town narrow-mindedness. Because he wasn’t about to change. Nothing was wrong with him. It was everybody else and their hang-ups that were the problems. He looked at April. Though he wanted her so, he couldn’t see how this was ever going to work.

  …

  April felt bad for Bull. She hadn’t fully realized the extent of the nonverbal criticism people like him had to face from the likes of “society people.” She looked him over. Really, the only thing that made him different that night was his hair. Otherwise, he was better dressed and more handsome than the whole lot of the men at the club.

  If they lived in a large metropolitan city, no one would probably even care.

  If she admitted it, she had kind of been like them, too. She had been, and it had been wrong, even though she’d had good reason. She didn’t feel disapproving tonight, not around Bull.

  When she had opened her front door, she’d had to hold on so that her knees wouldn’t buckle. He was so handsome. She even liked the way his hair was smoothed down and the way it curved out at the bottom of his neck. His form was formidable, charismatic, engaging. She didn’t want to take her eyes off him.

  Never in her life had she had such a reaction to a man. Jenna would kill her if she knew.

  April checked her watch. Where was Jenna? She looked up, searching the Oak Room. It was cavernous. She couldn’t help thinking, though, that they’d missed an opportunity when they didn’t have some kind of center decoration, like a fountain, or one of those large, round tables with a huge vase of flowers, or, perhaps, a statue.

  April was blindsided with a hug. It was Brooke Alston, from the Ladies League. “I’m still waiting for your application and for you to come to a meeting so that we can move your membership forward,” she said with a smile. Brooke was with the hospitality committee at the league. “Who is your gentleman friend?”

  “I’m Bullworth Clayton,” he said and shook her hand.

  “I’m so glad to meet you,” Brooke said. “And thank you so much for the jacket you brought tonight. I saw you hand it to the host when you came in, but I was tied up in the room behind you guys.”

  She glanced back at April and then at Bull. “If there’s anything I can help you with tonight, let me know. Refreshments are over there.” She pointed. “And restrooms are in the back.”

  April and Bull thanked her. April loved her disposition and friendliness. If everyone at the league were like her, she’d be in a much bigger hurry to join.

  “April,” Jenna called from across the ballroom wi
th her hand in the air. As she maneuvered around the room and made her way over, she chatted with people in the crowd—a crowd that was filled with people she and Jenna knew well. “Bull, you remember Jenna, don’t you? From the library,” April said.

  “Oh, yeah,” he said. “You look absolutely lovely tonight. Do I remember correctly that April said that you modeled or something at a dress shop?”

  Jenna smiled at April. Bull obviously knew all the right things to say to women. Maybe that was why April was feeling the way she did. But she didn’t think so. She simply needed to keep her wits about her because his good looks and charm threatened to disarm her tonight. So, April needed to be on high alert.

  Chapter Eight

  April was enjoying herself more than she cared to admit at the silent charity auction, and she hadn’t even made it into the room with all the donated items to bid.

  She couldn’t help but notice how the ladies all looked at Bull with something between intrigue and apprehension, and at her with something between envy and concern. A tingly part inside her also toyed with the same dangerous attraction to Bull. She knew he came from a different world, but she wanted to touch him, inhale him, kiss him.

  Even Jenna was smitten after all the compliments. Jenna batted her lashes with every other word. Either she had something in her eye, or she was flirting with Bull. April wasn’t sure, but something was going on. All innocent, of course.

  Bull looked at April and said, “I believe I must be standing beside the two most beautiful and best-dressed women in the whole place.” He slipped his hand into hers.

  Jenna ran her palms over the little black chiffon number she was wearing and said, “Oh, this thing? I pull it out when I have nothing else to wear.”

  Bull’s eyes were still locked on April. “Well, it’s very handsome on you. And April is gorgeous.”

  “Yes, she is,” Jenna said in her best Southern drawl. “I helped her pick out her dress today at Enjoliver!, the dress shop where I work. It’s French, you know. The name means, Dress Up.” Then Jenna started in with her bad high school French. “All she needs for the upcoming season is a fancy shap-o with some pale pee-teet roses on it.”