by Nicole James
He nodded. “You looked up at me with those big eyes of yours, and I watched them climb my body. When they finally reached my face, and our eyes connected, damn, baby, felt it jolt through me like a fucking static shock.”
She grinned. “I remember looking up at you. You were intimidating as hell. And then you smiled at me.”
“What else could I do? You were so in awe of me,” he teased.
She slugged his arm. “I was not.”
“Were, too.”
“This is your fairytale, tell it how you want.”
“Ain’t no fairytale. Exactly how it happened.”
“In your dreams.”
He dropped her hand to slide his palm onto her belly. “I did think you were a dream.” He leaned over to nip at her earlobe and whisper, “And now that you can ride, you’re a biker’s wet dream.”
“Oh, really?”
“Wasn’t a man standing on that curb when you rode by on that bobbed-tail chopper of yours that didn’t think that exact thought.”
She turned her head to search his eyes. “You like that I can ride? I thought you’d hate it.”
“You looked hot as hell on that bike. Doesn’t mean I still don’t want you on the back of mine. That’s where you belong.”
“Is it?”
He nodded. “If it’s where you want to be.”
She stared at him, the words stalling in her throat.
At her lack of reply, he rolled to his back and pulled her against him, wrapping her in his arms. “Let’s get some sleep.”
She cuddled against him, turning his words over and over in her head. Did they mean what she thought they did? And if they did, is that what she wanted?
****
Wolf woke when his cell phone chirped. He reached out to the nightstand and shut the alarm off, squinting his eyes against the dim light coming in through the window. It was barely dawn, but he needed to get back.
His eyes moved to Crystal.
He knew she still worried where this was going. He was a long way from winning her back. But last night she’d let him back in her bed. And that was a hell of a start.
He slipped from between the sheets and quietly dressed.
When he was finished, he stood looking down at her. He leaned over a fraction, not wanting to wake her, but needing one more touch before he left. One hand softly brushed over her hair as he gazed down at her. Then he dropped his hand and moved quietly toward the door.
****
Crystal’s eyes slid open as the soft click of the door closing sounded through the stillness of the apartment. She’d been awake. She’d heard him moving around the room, getting dressed, making his escape before he had to face her in the light of day. Like he always did.
Her eyes pooled.
It was just more of the same. Nothing had changed.
He’d gotten what he wanted, and then he left.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
The brothers stood in the metal shed, a large roll-up door was open to reveal the downpour of rain coming down in buckets outside.
Wolf leaned one hand on the door frame and gazed up at the dark sky, muttering, “Shit weather.”
Crash stood next to him, his arms crossed and his booted feet in a wide stance. “Wouldn’t be Sturgis if it didn’t rain at least part of the week.”
“I guess.”
Shades, Ghost, and JJ from the Birmingham Chapter also stood watching the sky.
Shades looked over at Wolf. “Heard you boys had a little run in with the Death Heads last night. Sorry we missed the fun.”
Crash grinned back at Shades, answering for Wolf. “Lasted about two minutes. You didn’t miss much. They just happened to walk into the wrong bar. Have you boys have any trouble with them this week?”
“Not so far,” Shades answered the question.
“But the week’s not over. There’s still hope,” Ghost offered with a grin and a waggle of his brows.
“Where’d you guys end up last night?” Wolf asked.
“We took 12Gauge over to a couple bars in Deadwood. Slightly less crowded.” Shades grinned.
Crash and Wolf nodded.
JJ eyed the sky and complained, “This rain is sucking the fun out of the day I had planned.”
Ghost twisted to look at him. “That’s right, you were all set to get your club tattoo today, weren’t you?”
Shades looked over at him with a grin. “Has it been two years already? Huh. Seems like just yesterday you were runnin’ that gauntlet.”
Under the club’s National Bylaws, number ten to be exact, no member could get a club tattoo until he’d been a full patch member at least two years. He also had to be accompanied by two other tattooed brothers when he got the ink.
“Two years today, VP.”
“Well, hell, let’s go get it done. Ain’t gonna let a little rain stop you are you? Or are you afraid you’ll melt?” Ghost grinned at him.
JJ looked at him hopefully. “You’ll go with me? I need two brothers to go with me, and in this weather I figured there was no chance of talkin’ anybody into the ride into town.”
Shades grinned over at him. “I ain’t afraid of a little water. Besides, it looks like it’s easing up.”
“Damn. Thanks guys. That means a lot.”
Shades looked over at Crash. “You want to tag-a-long?”
Crash shrugged, taking in the lightening sky on the horizon. “Beats the hell out of standing around here. I’m game.”
“Hell, count me in, too,” Wolf replied, dropping his arm from the frame.
The five men moved toward their bikes.
****
Crystal stood at the window of the shop, staring up at the rain. It had started pouring a couple of hours ago, and the town had pretty much emptied out, including their shop. About twenty minutes ago, the film crew had wrapped up and left. Thank God.
Not that it wasn’t a great opportunity for Jameson and the boys, but having them underfoot was tedious. They were constantly in the way. Not to mention every time a customer realized they’d be filmed (and signed the required paperwork) somehow the tattoo process always took twice as long. They dragged their feet over picking a design and really played up to the camera, causing the whole process to drag out.
“You think it’s going to let up anytime soon?” Max asked, peering out the window.
“Hard to tell. Radar doesn’t look good,” Jameson replied, standing next to him.
The distant rumble of a hoard of bikes could be heard coming down the street.
“Well, the rain’s not keeping everyone from riding.”
They all watched as five bikes slowed and then backed into the spots in front of the shop, their back tires to the curb. The Evil Dead MC patches on the back of the riders’ cuts clearly visible. Three of the bottom rockers read Alabama. Two of them read California.
Crystal straightened, whispering, “Oh, shit.”
Jameson’s eyes darted to her, then over her head to his brother, Max. She saw them exchange a look and could only imagine that Max had reported back to Jameson all about their night out and running into the MC at the bar.
“Uh, maybe we should close up,” Max mumbled to his brother.
****
Wolf and Crash exchanged a look when they realized which tattoo shop their brothers had picked. Brothers Ink. Jameson’s place. The place Crystal worked at.
Wolf dropped his kickstand and threw his leg over the bike, turning to look up at the place. He pulled his daylight KDs off and wiped the water from his face.
Crash exchanged a look with Wolf. “You gonna be cool with this?”
“Yeah. Its fine, Crash. We talked.”
“You do more than talk?” When Wolf didn’t reply, Crash had his answer. His voice dropped to mutter in a disappointed or perhaps warning tone, “Brother.”
“You were right. What you said. All of it.”
Crash let out a sigh. “She gonna be good with this? Us showing up here?”
W
olf moved with the rest of them towards the door. “I guess we’re about to find out.”
****
Jameson looked down at Crystal, and she could see the concern etched on his face. But it was way too late to lock up. The MC was already coming through the door. Their broad, leather covered shoulders filling the small shop. They were dripping wet, rivulets of water running off them to puddle on the floor.
Crystal’s eyes ran over the men. Three of them she’d never seen before, but the other two she recognized well enough. Crash, with his gorgeous smile aimed right at her. She couldn’t help but smile back at him.
Then her eyes moved past him to Wolf, the last man through the door. He looked at her with a serious expression, and then the corner of his mouth pulled up, and he winked.
“Got a customer for you, Superstar,” Shades announced, pushing JJ forward.
Jameson looked from Shades to Crystal, almost as if he was questioning whether she wanted him to get rid of these men. Not that that would be an easy task, but if she knew Jameson, he’d make the attempt if that was what she wanted. He’d go up against five of them. For her.
Shit, she couldn’t let him do that. The last thing she wanted was a fight to break out. And to be honest, she wasn’t sure how she felt about them showing up. A part of her wanted to see Wolf again, but like this? She couldn’t think about that now. She had to diffuse this situation, because Jameson was just standing there, and the biker was starting to narrow his eyes at him, not liking his hesitation one bit.
“There a problem?” he asked with a growl.
“No, not at all. I’ll get the paperwork,” she murmured and moved toward the counter. “Please, gentlemen, this way.”
The biker eyed Jameson, and then turned toward the counter, shoving the younger member ahead of him.
As Crystal shuffled through the papers at her station, searching for a consent form, the stern biker with the VP patch on his right chest was making her nervous as hell. And then Crash leaned his elbows on the counter and grinned down at her.
“How’s it going, Crystal?”
The man with the VP patch looked over at him. “You know her?”
“Crystal used to run the bar at our clubhouse.”
“That so?”
“Crystal, this is Shades, VP of the Birmingham Chapter. Shades, Crystal.”
The man smiled then, and what a smile it was. “Ma’am. Pleased to meet you.”
“You, too,” she replied, giving him a nervous smile.
“Think you can relax now, darlin’?” he asked as he turned up the charm.
“Of course.” She handed the paperwork to the other man. “Sign here and here, please.”
Shades grinned at Crash, and then stepped away from the counter.
Ten minutes later, Jameson was at work on a full back tattoo, working off the design on the club’s cut. Jameson was a fast worker, but even so, she knew that it would take several hours to complete a tattoo that size.
They had a couple more customers that Max and Liam took care of, but in comparison to a normal day, they were pretty dead. The rain was keeping most people away. It varied off and on from a downpour to a drizzle and back again. Classic Sturgis, she was told.
****
As the afternoon wore on, Jameson was getting close to finishing JJ’s club tattoo. Wolf had to admit, the man had talent. His lining was perfect, and his shading was flawless. Wolf stood with his back against the wall, one booted foot raised and propped against it. His gaze moved to the right. Crystal sat at her station, trying to look busy, while he and his brothers loitered around waiting for JJ’s ink to be finished. Trying, being the key word. It was like she was trying to ignore him, and Wolf had had enough.
Dropping his booted foot with a thud, he pushed off the wall and strolled toward her. Her big eyes widen when she saw him coming. His hands landed on the counter. “Can you take a break?”
One of Jameson’s brothers, who’d been sitting at his station nearby, walked over. Wolf had been introduced to the man, but for the life of him, he couldn’t remember his name.
“Go on, Crystal. I’ll cover the phones. We’re dead. Take a break.”
“You sure, Max?”
Max. That was his name. Wolf looked over at him. “Thanks, man.”
Max nodded, and Wolf watched as Crystal rose and moved toward the front door. They stepped out onto the boardwalk with its overhanging roof. Crystal took a few steps away, her eyes on the distant mountains visible at the end of the street.
A group of brave riders rode up the street, a fine mist of rain spraying up from the tires of their big bikes. Wolf watched as Crystal hugged herself, her hands rubbing up and down her bare arms, exposed by the tank top she wore.
“You cold?”
“No, I’m fine,” she said over her shoulder.
“Crystal, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“You’re acting like you don’t know me. Like we’re strangers.”
She shrugged. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Wolf blew out a breath. Women always denied when something was wrong, and it was always up to the man to play twenty questions trying to figure it out. They always thought you were supposed to know what it was. And perhaps he did, at least this time.
“Last night you said we needed to talk.”
She nodded.
“I put you off. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that. But, damn girl, I get around you and the last thing I want to do is talk.”
She remained quiet, her back stiff. If he wanted to get anywhere, he was going to have to do better than that.
“Can we talk now? Please?”
She shrugged.
Well at least she wasn’t walking away. The wooden boardwalk shook as four pairs of booted feet stomped out the door. Wolf twisted to look behind him. His brothers were moving toward their bikes. Apparently the tattoo was finished, and they were ready to roll. Four pairs of eyes glanced in his direction.
“You comin’?” Crash asked.
Wolf lifted his chin. “You go on. I’ll be a while.”
Crash nodded.
The rain had slacked off to a light drizzle. Wolf waited while four Harleys roared to life and pulled out. When they were gone, he turned back to Crystal.
“Go ahead. Talk,” she bit out, her back still to him.
Okay. Guess he was going first. And it appeared what he had to say to her, he’d be saying to her back. He blew out a breath. Maybe that was for the best, because he was about to bring up the other women in his past, and he had a feeling she wasn’t gonna like it.
“I’ve been with a lot of women, Crystal.” He watched her arms tighten around her.
“That’s nothing new, Wolf.”
“Let me finish.”
“Fine.”
“You never asked me for anything, Crystal. Not a damn thing. Those other women, all they did was want shit. Expensive shit. Shit I sometimes could give them, more often not. But they never had a fucking problem asking. Always wanting shit. Always expecting shit.” And then his voice softened. “But, you. You never did. Not once.”
“No, I didn’t.” She shrugged. “Maybe I should have.”
She still just stood there, cold as ice, and it was beginning to piss him off. He felt the distance between them growing, and he didn’t like it, so he moved in close, wrapped his arms around her and pulled her back against his chest. Time to cut through all the bullshit. Time to man up and get real. He asked softly, “What do you want?”
Silence.
And then she responded quietly. “You know what I want. You. All I ever wanted was to be with you. And to know you loved me. I never needed all that other stuff. Material stuff. Or even promises. I never needed any of it. I just needed you.”
“Me.” It sounded so simple. But it was far from it. His mouth at her ear, he whispered, “And when you look in the future, and you have me, what do you see?” He felt her swallow and saw her suck in her l
ips, and he figured she was gathering the courage to answer, to give him the truth. When she hesitated, he coaxed, “Tell me, sweetheart.”
“I see a house with a white picket fence and a table full of kids.”
Jesus Christ. He was wrong when he thought she didn’t ask for much. Hell, she wanted it all. “A tableful?” he croaked.
At his response, she stiffened in his arms and tried to pull away, but he held tight. He cleared his throat and asked, “How big a table?”
His fear must have shown through to her, and apparently he’d pissed her off. At least, he hoped her response was just a pissed off jab to get back at him.
“A big table. Big enough to seat eight people.”
“Christ, babe, you—” He swallowed. “You sayin’ you want six kids?”
“Yup.” She threw the response at him like a challenge.
Jesus Christ, six kids. “You serious?”
“Yup.” There it was again, that short, chopped-off word, bitten out the way only Crystal could do it.
“How about the standard two?”
“Nope. Six.”
“Three?”
“Nope.”
“Four?” How the hell did he just end up negotiating the number of kids he’d give her? Had he lost his fucking mind? When she stayed quiet, as if she was considering his offer of four, he panicked and backed away, his arms sliding from her. She whirled, her eyes searching his as he stepped back, his hand running over his face. At the look on her face, he knew he’d better fucking say something because he could tell she was about to bolt. “I suppose you want girls?” He shook his head, not waiting for her response. “I’m a boy producer.”
“You can’t know that.”
“Yeah. I can. Cause God wouldn’t be so cruel as to give a guy like me girls. Hell, not after the way I’ve…” he broke off, shaking his head.
“Relax, Wolf. I don’t want girls. What would a tom-boy like me want with girls? I’m not exactly the girly type.”
A half grin pulled at the corner of his mouth. “You can be. I’ve seen your girly bedroom. I’ve seen your sexy lingerie, and on occasion I’ve seen you all dolled up. The other girls have got nothing on you, babe.”