Dancing Queens & Biker Kings: Sweet & Rugged in Montana

by Dallen, Maggie

He shook his head and stepped on the gas, laughing again as she let out a shrill squeak in his ear, her arms wrapping around him so tightly he thought she’d never let go.

  Chapter Five

  Claire clung to him like a monkey, her arms and legs clenching on to him with all her strength. Between the freezing cold wind and the terror of riding on a motorcycle for the first time, she thought she might never let go. Like, ever. It was entirely possible she was frozen into a living statue, one that was permanently affixed to Cole Deckland.

  Not a bad place to be stuck for life.

  She would have rolled her eyes at the unbidden thought if she could move her eyes. Unfortunately they too were frozen.

  But really, the voice had a point. Cole Deckland was hotter than ever. Not to mention he was warm and solid between her arms. Also, he smelled good. She felt a hysterical giggle well up as she thought of how badly she wanted to go back in time and tell fifteen-year-old Claire and all her boy-crazy friends about this.

  She was riding on Cole Deckland’s motorcycle!

  Okay, she was clearly delusional. She’d never been one of those girls to fantasize about bikers or being saved by some hero on his white horse. But that was exactly what it had felt like when Cole had walked up to her window. She’d been borderline hysterical. About three seconds away from panicking…and freezing. What were the odds that her car would break down?

  Pretty good, actually. She had known something was wrong with her car. She supposed it had been just a matter of time before something like this happened. She should just be grateful that Cole had been driving by when it happened.

  The lights of Main Street came into view and the oddest sensation occurred. She stopped being cold.

  Or rather, it didn’t seem to matter so much. She had a strange moment where she felt like she’d stepped outside of her skin and was watching her life.

  And she was riding on Cole Deckland’s bike.

  That was all that seemed to matter in her odd, hazy state. She was with the boy every girl had wanted. She sighed and burrowed her face into his back.

  He must be freezing. His leather coat was over her not-nearly-thick-enough jacket. He was just wearing a flannel shirt.

  He should get inside, and quick. She tried to tell him that when he pulled the bike to a stop in front of the bar but all that came out with a murmur through chattering teeth.

  “Whoa, easy.”

  She heard Cole’s low voice as she tried to untangle her limbs to get off the bike. A feat that was proving ridiculously difficult, and the fact that several regulars stood out front of The Flaming Hog watching her ungraceful clamoring did not help matters.

  He steadied her, all while easily throwing one leg over the bike and dismounting. Soon he was standing at her side, wrapping an arm around her waist and half tugging, half lifting to get her off the seat and onto the sidewalk.

  She tried to help but her legs were wobbly and her arms felt like Jello after clinging to him so hard. Or maybe it was the cold that had sapped her muscles of their ability to function. All she knew was, she was grateful for Cole’s support. His arm around her waist and his solid body at her side were the only things keeping her upright.

  She looked up to say thank you and saw him wince.

  “Jeez, Claire, how long were you stranded on the side of the road?”

  She squinted at him and tried to think of the answer but her brain was buzzing. Meanwhile he was hustling her toward the bar. Her apartment was upstairs but the stairwell leading to the second floor apartment was inside the bar. She’d grown up there so she was used to the unconventional front door. Even as a child she’d had to cut through the town’s dive bar to get home. Normally it didn’t faze her. She was well known by all the regulars and her comings and goings were largely ignored.

  But tonight… well, tonight she couldn’t seem to stand on her own two feet.

  They hadn’t made it more than two feet on the sidewalk when she heard Cole mutter a curse under his breath. Next thing she knew she was off her feet. Whoosh! Strong arms whisked her off the ground and held her close to a rock solid chest.

  For the first time in a long time, she was warm.

  But she was still shaking. More so than she’d realized, actually. She clutched Cole’s flannel shirt to keep herself steady and to keep from falling. It wasn’t every day she was carried by some man. Well, not some man. He was Cole Deckland, a man she’d known forever. This should not be so exciting or so scary. But nothing about this moment was normal, that was for sure. She’d never been so close to Cole before, and she’d certainly never had a guy carry her like she was some sort of damsel in distress.

  “I’ve got you,” he murmured, his voice soft, low, and rumbly beneath her ear as he pressed her head into his chest, presumably for warmth. Then he strode the few remaining feet toward the bar.

  Frank, an older regular who’d known her since she was a toddler, opened the door to the bar for them, his expression tight with concern. “Are you all right, Clarabelle?”

  Ugh. There was that nickname again. She’d thought that had died out years ago. Nodding, she forced a smile to ease his concern—at least, she hoped it looked like a smile and not a grimace, it was hard to tell with her lips feeling so frozen.

  Cole barreled past Frank and the others. She instinctively turned her face into him, not wanting to see or talk to anyone at the moment, no matter how genuine their concern. She couldn’t think straight, she couldn’t feel her extremities, and the very act of smiling politely was ridiculously difficult.

  “Almost there,” Cole said, and she found herself clinging tighter, holding on for dear life like this man was saving her life.

  And maybe he was. The thought was dim but persistent. She was colder than she’d ever been, so cold it was starting to affect her ability to function. If he hadn’t come along when he had….

  She shivered so violently, his arms tightened around her like iron to hold her still. “Easy, sweetheart. We’re almost there.”

  Sweetheart. He’d called her sweetheart.

  It didn’t mean anything. It was just a silly term of endearment from an old friend. Or friendly acquaintance, maybe.

  Did he consider her an old friend or just some girl he used to know?

  She didn’t know where the thought came from or why it suddenly seemed necessary that she know.

  How did she consider him? Friend, friendly acquaintance, former crush? She tilted her head to the side to study his profile as she attempted to contemplate this new, crucial dilemma.

  Huh. It seemed her addled brain was stumped.

  He turned his head too so she was no longer looking at his profile but straight into the warmest brown eyes she’d ever seen. “Keys?”

  She blinked at him, trying to process the word.

  His lips hitched up at one side and her gaze focused on the movement.

  “Huh?” Eloquence, thy name is Claire Geddy.

  He shifted her a bit as if to get a better hold. “Sweetheart, where are your keys?”

  Sweetheart. There it was again. Why on earth did that one little word make her belly do a backflip. The first time she’d thought it a fluke, but twice couldn’t be a coincidence. A little part of her wanted to ask him to try it again and see what happened.

  Luckily sanity set in before she could ask. Keys. He was asking about keys.

  Her keys. To her apartment. Shaking her head, she said a little prayer of gratitude that Cole had come along before she’d lost her mind entirely. As it was, she was disarmingly addled. But she did manage to tell him that the keys were in her pocket. Her stiff fingers weren’t much help but between the two of them they managed to wiggle them out.

  It wasn’t elegant but it got done. Mission accomplished.

  When he worked the keys into the lock, managing to keep her in his arms, she was impressed. By the time they got inside and he kicked the door closed behind them, she wasn’t sure whether to applaud or pass out.

  Sleep sounded so
darn good.

  “Bedroom?” he asked.

  She gestured toward the hall leading to her room. Once there he tugged back the covers on her bed and dumped her in it unceremoniously. She would have giggled if it weren’t for the fact that he fell into bed beside her.

  Um, no way. She was a red-blooded female, which meant she was just as attracted to Cole Deckland as the next woman but there was no way she was going to fall into bed with him, literally or metaphorically.

  But just as she was starting to shimmy away from him, he reached for her and pulled her close so his warm, large body was wrapped around hers through the many layers of her coat and his. His touch wasn’t sexual—if anything it was platonic, brotherly even as he snuggled her, tugging the blankets up over them both.

  Warmth. Sweet, heavenly warmth started to seep into her body, making her extremities tingle and her core thaw. Her muscles simultaneously ached and found relief as the last of the tremors shook her and then faded away.

  After several moments, she’d become so focused on the sound of Cole’s heartbeat against her ear and the feel of his breathing making his chest rise and fall against her, she was nearly lulled into sleep.

  Then he had to go and move.

  She bit back a whine of protest as he moved away slightly to look at her, his hand coming up to feel her forehead. “Are you all right? How do you feel?”

  She managed a sleepy smile. “Tired, but good.” Better than good, truth be told. It had been a long time since someone had cuddled her and she was still reveling in the warm, fuzzy feeling of excess oxytocin. That was the cuddle hormone, the one that made snuggling and hugs feel so good. She’d read that somewhere ages ago and told herself now that’s all this warm, fuzzy feeling was about.

  It was a by-product of excess oxytocin.

  Still. Knowing that didn’t change the fact that she desperately wanted to curl up in his arms again. Just until she fell asleep. How long had it been since she’d fallen asleep in someone’s arms?

  Too long, apparently, because she couldn’t even imagine how warm and lovely and utterly safe it would feel to fall asleep knowing someone was watching out for her.

  “Maybe I should take you to the clinic,” he said.

  Her eyes snapped open. “What? No. No hospitals.”

  His lips parted as if to protest and she found herself smacking a hand over his mouth to stop him. She hated hospitals. Everyone did, obviously, but she really, truly did. After the accident, she’d had enough of doctors’ offices, clinics, and hospitals to last a lifetime. “No clinic,” she said.

  His eyes squinted at her, clearly unconvinced. He was also clearly worried… about her.

  That warm, fuzzy feeling made her want to burrow under the covers with this guy and never come out. Wow. Excessive oxytocin was seriously impeding her rational thought.

  She made the mistake of removing her hand from his mouth.

  “If I’d known how frozen you were I would have taken you there right away.” His brows drew together. “But then, maybe that would have been too far to take you on the bike.”

  He surprised the heck out of her by tilting his head forward and resting his forehead against hers. The gesture wasn’t inappropriate, by any means, but it was… intimate.

  Her shiver had him clutching her tighter. “Is there someone I should call? A boyfriend or family member?”

  She nearly let out a snort of jaded amusement at the boyfriend comment. The last guy she’d been even remotely serious about had lasted approximately five months before realizing that she would never have the time or energy to give their relationship the focus he wanted. Her life had been consumed by work at the time. And now? Well, now she didn’t have work as an excuse. Sure, the bar and her mother’s mess of a life kept her busy but she could have made time for a personal life if she’d wanted to.

  But she hadn’t wanted to. She wasn’t planning on staying in Lulu long enough to forge any big commitments.

  He was waiting for an answer. Somehow it seemed too pathetic to say “no,” but really, she couldn’t think of anyone. Except her mom. But imagining Ruby coming to her aid made her want to burst out in a hysterical giggle again. From the time she was seven, she’d been the caretaker in this little family.

  Still, he was waiting for a response.

  “Umm…”

  His eyes narrowed and those warm fuzzy feelings melted away along with the chill. “It’s not necessary, really,” she said, already pulling out of his embrace. “I feel much better.”

  At his continued stare, she added, “I promise.”

  He shook his head. “There’s no way I’m leaving you alone after the night you’ve had.”

  She started to protest but one look at his face warned her it would be useless. Goodness he could be stubborn when he wanted to be. Had he always been so thickheaded? She paused at the edge of the bed, wanting to get distance from this guy but not relishing the idea of leaving the warmth of her down comforter.

  She reached for her phone in her back pocket which was irritatingly working now when she no longer needed it. Thanks for nothing, phone. Holding it up to Cole as if proof of something, she went through the motions of calling her mother.

  As expected, there was no answer. She left a message—vague enough not to scare her, but she did ask Ruby to call her when she got in.

  When she got off the phone, she smiled at Cole. “I’m sure she’ll come over as soon as she gets the message. Nothing to worry about.” Yup, nothing to worry about here. Just a lonely old cat lady without the cats who can’t even rely on her own mother to answer her calls.

  Self-pity was a sad quality and one she refused to nurture. Instead, she stood up quickly, ready to briskly thank her kind savior and send him on his way. She stood up too quickly, it turned out. Her legs wobbled slightly beneath her. It was slight but Cole caught it.

  His lips, which she tried not to notice as much as possible, pressed together in a firm line. His arms, which she also tried not to notice, crossed over his chest. She was doing such a fine job of not noticing his lovely lips and his muscular arms that she very nearly missed his next sentence.

  “That’s it, I’m drawing you a bath.” It was said with all the firm determination of a military commander giving orders to his troops.

  Her mouth fell open. He was drawing her a what now? But he was already halfway to her bathroom in the hall as she chased after him. “Why—no—I mean, you don’t have to do that.”

  Panic and surprise had her sounding just as flustered as she felt. But really, there was intimate and then there was intimate.

  This was the latter.

  She wasn’t even certain why. It wasn’t like he was suggesting that he join her in the bathtub… oh heck, why did she have to think that? Now she’d have that image forever branded in her mind. She shook her head, trying to think of a good way to dissuade him from drawing her a bath.

  Cole Deckland was drawing her a bath!

  She bit back a sigh. Her inner teen really needed to take a hike. That silly voice was distracting her.

  “You don’t have to do this,” she started. But then her attention was caught by what exactly he was doing. He hadn’t just turned on the water. He’d sorted through the tubes and jars on the bath’s edge until he’d found some bath salts and sprinkled them in. Then he left the bathroom and she followed him, watching as he poured her a glass of water and filled a teakettle with water as well.

  What the….

  “What do you think you’re doing?”

  He glanced at her over his shoulder with a smirk that was so dangerously sexy it belonged on the face of a… well, a biker, actually. Someone just like him. But not on the face of the kind gentleman who’d carried her into her home and was currently tending to her like he was a fretful grandma.

  “What does it look like I’m doing?” he asked. “I’m taking care of you. And I’m going to continue taking care of you until your mom gets here, so how about you stop fighting me and just l
et yourself be pampered for once.”

  She opened her mouth.

  She shut her mouth.

  She was still standing there staring at him, unsure of if or how she ought to protest further, when he walked up to her, gripped her by her shoulders and steered her back into the bathroom. As he was closing the door behind him, he nodded toward the nearly full tub. “Better get in there while it’s hot, sweetheart.”

  Sweetheart. He’d said it again.

  He really had to stop calling her that.

  Still, the bath looked tempting and smelled divine as the lavender bath salts dissolved into the water. Shedding her clothes quickly, she slipped into the tub, letting out an embarrassingly loud moan of relief as the hot water swallowed her up and eased the last of her frigid chill.

  “Are you all right in there?” Cole’s voice called through the door.

  She ridiculously and instinctively covered herself before relaxing back into the hot water with a roll of her eyes. No, dummy, the door was not see through and Cole did not have X-ray vision. “I’m fine, thanks,” she called back. And then because the first thanks hadn’t felt like enough, she added, “Thank you.”

  There was a brief silence and then a muttered, “No problem.”

  She lay there trying not to think about just how bad things could have gone for her if Cole hadn’t shown up when he had. What if no one had come along for several more hours? What if the person who’d come along had been a creep… or worse?

  She felt a smile tugging at her lips as she thought of Cole’s cuddles and the no-nonsense way he’d gone about drawing her a bath and making her tea. What does it look like I’m doing? I’m taking care of you.

  The words were a warm balm in and of themselves. She let herself sink lower into the tub. How long had it been since she’d treated herself to a nice, long bath? Too long, she supposed.

  Just let yourself be pampered for once. His exasperated words echoed in her mind. For once. What did he mean by for once?

  She stared at the closed bathroom door, sensing without knowing how that he was still out there hovering.