With a brief shake of his head, he rejected the thought and heard the screen door close behind the movers. “I hope you have a really good day.” That was heartfelt, and he saw her lips quirk. Then, knowing what Tamara expected from him, Hoss followed with a less sincere, “Thank you for your support,” seeing that almost-smile fall from her lips faster than it had appeared, wiped away by his impersonal words.
He walked towards the door and turned, surprised to find her right behind him. Looking down at her, he stopped for a minute, seeing the question in her eyes at his abrupt change of direction. “If you are ever interested in seeing my studio, to see the pieces I don’t display for shows, I’d be pleased to give you a tour.” What the hell? Did you just invite this stranger into your house? With an inward snort, he realized that at least he was inviting her, she wouldn’t just be showing up on the doorstep like he had today, demanding a welcome no matter the unexpected nature of the visit.
Pain flowed across her features, and the muscles in her arms and neck tightened, turning any softness into hard, corded tension until she was fairly quivering as she stood there. “Mr. Rogers.” He frowned, not liking the retreat to impersonal words any more than she had. With apparent effort, she corrected herself. “Hoss.” Her gaze lifted to his face, and he nodded encouragement. “Hoss, I’m sorry. I doubt I could make that work.” At his repeated name from her mouth, he smiled, then frowned at the rest of her response. A heavy disappointment he hadn’t expected wedged tightly in his chest.
Digging his wallet out of his back pocket, he twisted the chain out of the way and retrieved one of his personal business cards. Holding it out, he waited for her to take it, which she did, her fingertips now carefully avoiding his, and he was surprised at the sense of loss that gave him. As if he’d instinctively wanted one final reminder of the connection he’d so briefly felt. “My cell number is on there. Text me, or call me, we’ll set up something that will work, Cassie. I’ll make it work. I promise.”
***
Cassie
She watched him stalk down the front steps and over to where a monster of a motorcycle was parked at the curb behind the truck. Standing beside it, he shook the hands of the deliverymen and then reached out, doing something along the handlebars of the bike. She jolted when the machine started, the low, deep rumble rubbing up against something deep inside her, and she liked the sense of thrill it gave her. Coiled power, sitting hobbled, just waiting for someone to take control and direct it. Maybe that’s something I can do. It would be solitary, but in the world.
Filing that thought away, she moved to close the door, halting in place when he turned to look back at her house. She raised one hand in farewell, and he raised his chin with a jerk and a smile. His hands were busily working to roll and fold his sleeves up, then he lifted one hand and unbuttoned his shirt midway down his chest. As she watched, mesmerized by the smoothness of his movements, he tugged black gloves onto his hands, and then slipped his arms into a jacket, rolling his shoulders to settle it into place. He swung a leg across the motorcycle and lifted it upright, holding the bike in place with strong, thick thighs as he raised the kickstand, all the while that rumble rubbed up against her again and again. She shivered as she watched him pull smoothly into the street and envied the wide grin on his face as he rode away. Maybe so.
Bring out his happy
Hoss
Hoss aimed his wheels to the clubhouse, gaze sweeping the parked bikes as he idled onto the lot, nodding his thanks to the prospect manning the gate. Currently serving as president for the Rebel Wayfarers MC’s Fort Wayne chapter, he had been patched in for decades and considered himself a lifer, someone who would die a Rebel.
Backing his bike to the building, he killed the engine and sat for a moment before dismounting. His thoughts were still circling around the woman he had spent a mere thirty minutes with, while holding a mostly one-sided conversation. He’d been surprised at the frustration and regret that had flooded through him when she turned down his invitation to see his private home gallery. An emotion that hadn’t left even as he put distance between them.
Hoss rubbed his fingertips over his palm, skin still tingling from the brief touch of her hand. With her being such a big fan, he had expected her to jump at the idea of a private tour. Wanna see my sketches, baby? I got some big ones. He smirked and then laughed aloud at himself. Shaking his head, Hoss stood up off the bike and walked to the door, pushing the thoughts aside.
With a wry grin, he looked around to see several members and a couple of prospects in the main room, playing pool or sitting at the bar. Good things never change. This could have been a scene from the same clubhouse five years ago. Hell, even twenty years ago. After walking to the open office door, he rapped sharply on the frame with his knuckles and didn’t wait for a response, stepping in and seating himself on the couch along the wall.
“Yo, Prez,” he greeted the man behind the desk they shared, and the redhead looked up with a grin, the flash of teeth white in his beard.
“Hoss, man.” Fury stood, holding out an arm and Hoss leaned up to grip it. “Didn’t know you were back in town. Does this mean Sam is back, too?”
“Yeah. The team’s road trip ended Friday. I had a show this weekend, so I came back a couple of days early. First home game for this series is tonight, and Sugar Kane’ll be on the ice for the first time. You gonna be in the box?” He knew the same proud grin from earlier was on his face again, because having a boy who played hockey at the professional level was surely something of which to be proud. Sam had become a teammate to two other Rebel kids, Tyler and Jonny. Tyler’s brother, Kane, would be starting his professional career tonight for the opposing team, but because the boys belonged to all of them, the whole club was behind the boys’ careers.
Three of them had been adopted by a member who was also an ex-hockey player, Jase Spencer, the driving force behind the Patterson-Spencer Hockey Foundation here in town. Jase was one of Hoss’ most trusted brothers and also happened to be the husband to a woman every man in the club loved like a mother, DeeDee. The couple had taken in nine kids, survivors of a beloved member’s death, and then took on another child, Jonny, that one a blood relation to DeeDee.
The minute first Tyler and then Sam had made the draft and it became known they’d be assigned to the local team, the club had booked one of the boxes at the arena for the season. Then when Jonny and Kane proved their worth and earned long-term spots on different teams, keeping the box was a done deal for the foreseeable future. After last season, Tyler had left active play for coaching and right now was in his stepdad’s hometown of Red Deer up in Alberta, his hands on the reins of the local juniors team there.
There was a shout from the main room, and both Hoss and Fury tensed. They rose to their feet and turned towards the door before either of them could make out the words. Then the high giggle of a child broke through the noise and Hoss grinned, turning back to look at Fury. “Sounds like your woman’s here, man.”
With an answering smile again flashing through his red beard, Fury walked around the end of the desk just as a small woman walked through the door with a toddler on her hip, holding an older child by the hand. “Baby,” Fury greeted as he leaned sideways to kiss her while tucking his hands under the toddler’s arms and lifting her high. “Beauty,” he said, nuzzling the side of his daughter’s head, and Hoss remembered the reaction he’d had to the paintings on Cassie’s walls, his mind whispering an echo of Fury’s word, Beautiful.
Shaking his head, Hoss raised a hand and said, “Bethy, darlin’. Good to see you.” Bethany Mason Ledbetter was the wife of his international president, Fury, also known as Gabe Ledbetter. Bethany was the sister of their past president and club founder, Davis Mason, who, until an incident a number of years ago, had intentionally separated her from the life. Kidnapped by an estranged family member, Bethy had been thrown into the harsh world of bikers in a shocking way, only learning about the depth of resources Mason had at his disposal during
her rescue.
Then, a few months after that had happened, she had hooked up with Fury when she once again fell into the middle of a club war. The two had struck sparks from the beginning, and it hadn’t taken Fury long to talk her around to his way of thinking they needed each other. Now Bethy and Fury had two kids, raising the next generation of Rebels alongside so many other members who had found their own soul mates.
Nate, Fury’s boy, ran around the couple who were still embracing in the middle of the room and launched himself airborne with a shout of, “Hossman!”
Hoss bent over and caught him in midjump, swinging the boy up onto his hip. He hugged him tightly for a moment, then leaned back to ask, “Davis Nathan, boy, what you think you’re doin’?”
“Jus’ sayin’ ’lo,” came the shouted answer and he was reminded of Sammy at this age. Nate was just about the same age his son had been when he first met him, the only child of a hardworking, beautiful woman who had captured Hoss’ heart with a single glance, a single word.
“Well then, ’lo backatcha,” he said, pulling Nate close for a tickle and snuggle. “You being good for Momma?”
Bethy scoffed, turning to look at them as Nate said, “Yessir. Always.”
“Hi, Hoss,” Bethy said softly, leaning against Fury as he wrapped his free arm around her shoulders. The couple’s biggest hurdle to overcome so they could be together had been convincing her brother that loving a member was what she wanted, and not some kind of belated reaction to her kidnapping. Uncharacteristically willing to believe the worst rumors about the man he’d already been grooming as his replacement, Mason had put plans into play that had backfired on him, only serving to strengthen their bond. One of damn few miscalculations Hoss had seen Mason make through the years.
Now you’d never know the man had ever been against it, praising and leaning on the redheaded biker at every turn. Years ago, when Slate had decided to step back from the leadership roles he had occupied for years in order to focus on his ever-growing family, Mason had tapped Fury for chapter president. That was before the club had gone international, which had necessitated changes at the local level. That’s where Hoss had come in. Having been VP of the Fort Wayne chapter for years, it was a logical step when the club needed Fury to step up.
Slate and his old lady had been blessed with two sets of twins only a year apart, giving them four baby bottoms in diapers at the same time. That had been followed by a solitary son only a couple of years later. Slate was still a member, and a trusted part of the inner circle, just without the heavy demands the office laid on his shoulders. Now that the twins were older, aged sixteen and fifteen, everyone expected he would step up again, and soon, but for now, Hoss held the office.
“Y’all out gallivantin’ around, darlin’?” Fury asked as he pressed a soft kiss to his daughter’s cheek. “Havin’ fun with my Beauty?”
Bethy laughed. “Errands and such, just wanted to see if you needed anything.”
“Nate, you want to go to the game tonight? Sammy’s playin’ here in town.” Hoss spoke without worrying about permission, knowing Fury’d always be down for some alone time with Bethy. The schedule Fury kept meant he was frequently out of town, and often the country. Hoss turned to see a bright smile on Bethy’s face, and Fury was already holding out his daughter slightly, lifting her in invitation as he waggled his eyebrows. Hoss grinned as he took the hint and offered, “We could take your sister, too. I bet Beauty would like to see Faynez again.”
Faynez was the nickname Sam had saddled his sister with, inventing it about the time she’d first started school. Since then, most folks who knew the family well called her the bizarre combination of first and middle names. “Whatcha say, Beauty? Wanna go watch Uncle Sammy play some hockey? Give the grown-ups time to play their own kinda game?” He knew his Faith would be happy to help watch the little girl, nicknamed Beauty for her personality as much as her looks. The little girl chortled adorably and waved sticky fists at him.
Two hours later, he was at the arena and dropped a bag of snacks, juice, toys, coloring books, and crayons on the floor of the box for Beauty, having promised to pay Faith for her babysitting efforts. Slate and Ruby’s oldest kids had ridden with him, too, and the four teenaged girls had spent the drive unsuccessfully arguing they should be provided equal compensation since they would all love on the little girl all night. Dani tried to claim ownership of the largest slice, given she was the oldest by about a year, and Hoss hadn’t been able to contain his laughter as her two sisters, twins Hayley and Kayley, argued they’d be twice as good since they were a whole year younger.
The Rebels had all popped out a crop of kids around the same time, seeming to find their better halves in a single, lasting wave. Now their kids ranged from thirty-four to the three-year-old seated by his daughter.
Slate’s oldest son, Allen, sat near the front of the box with Nate, the younger boys excitedly talking to Sammy and Jonny who had popped into the box to say hello. Now Hoss watched and laughed quietly as the soft-hearted players were finding it hard to leave the kids hanging. Raising his voice, Hoss called, “Sam, don’t you need to be in the locker room in five?” With a wave and an acknowledging nod, the boys—Men. They’re twenty-five, old man. Need to give them their due—left the box to slip into their normal pregame routine. Tonight would be the first time Kane hit the ice and played at this level, and Hoss was glad he would be here to see it.
The box slowly filled with family and friends and just before the game started, Faith abandoned the little girl to the younger set of eager twins and came to stand with him for puck drop. They had spent many hours like this, leaning on the boards of practice rinks, watching Sammy excel at a game he loved. Faith skated too, of course, and she’d enjoyed playing on teams up until they split her off with the girls. Then she’d hung up her skates, so to speak, fitting into a cheerleading role for her brother by her own desire.
Midway through the final period, Jonny scored off a two to one breakaway with the assist going to Sammy, and Hoss glanced up at the screens hanging from the ceiling as the camera captured Jonny and Sammy skating towards the bench. As they exited the ice, the camera zoomed out, and he saw fans still on their feet behind the players, high-fiving between themselves at the team’s accomplishment.
On their feet except for one woman, seated next to the tunnel leading to the team’s locker room, her shoulder pressed hard against the clear plastic barrier on that side. With her head down, it looked as if her fingers were wrapped tight around the armrest, pulling her slightly away from the jostling men only now retaking their seats in the row alongside her. Jonny and Sam were joking around, celebrating the goal and the camera stayed on them, continuing to offer a narrow view of the woman behind them. The sense of familiarity was overwhelming, and Hoss couldn’t take his eyes off the screen. I know her. Her head inched up, and she reached with what he saw were shaking hands to push the hoodie off her bright hair. As the woman’s hazel eyes rose to rest on the players, a tremulous smile briefly crossed her face. Cassie, taking pleasure in their joy. No fuckin’ way.
Then the camera angle changed, center ice showing on the screens as they zoomed in on the faceoff and he watched Kane get the drop, winning the draw and flicking the puck towards his forward, shouldering through the mass of bodies and pads in front of him.
From where he stood, he could see the bench with players either standing or seated, depending on where their line was in the shift rotation. But, to his frustration, the supports for the protective glass cut right across the faces of the people in the row behind the bench, blocking his view of the woman he thought might be Cassie. He eyeballed the crowd, judging how hard it would be to accomplish his half-thought-through idea. It was not quite a sellout, but there were still several thousand folks here tonight. Pushing away from the rail, he made a decision and told Faith, “I see someone I think I know. Gonna go say hello. If I’m not back by the end of the game, you stay put here with Beauty until I come to collect you,
Faynez. I’ll be back, honey.”
“Yes, sir,” she said, her focus never leaving the on-ice play, and with a frown, he realized it was Jonny holding her rapt attention. Oh, no, honey. Shit, no. Fuck no. You are only fifteen, and ain’t no way that’s happenin’, darlin’.
Turning, he caught DeeDee’s eye and motioned towards his daughter, then Fury’s and lifted an eyebrow until she nodded. She always had his back with his girl, and he could rest easy knowing she had her eyes on all the kids here tonight. Unfortunately, actually leaving the box took a few more minutes as his brothers wanted to talk about the game, about the boys, or about the party planned for the clubhouse tonight. Finally, he made it out, quickly striding his way down the concourse and realized he had left things too late when he heard the horn blow, signaling the end of the game. The cheers and clapping meant the boys had held their lead, winning the contest on the ice.
He had already been moving against the flow of families leaving their seats early to escape the rush, and now that the game was over the floodgates opened. It seemed within seconds the arena had released hundreds of people into the hallway he was trying to navigate, and it became nearly impossible to make headway. Scanning the faces as they passed him, he kept looking for Cassie. There was a heady jolt of excitement and anticipation in his chest the couple of times he saw blonde hair that might be hers, and he’d get revved up only to be disappointed when he found a different face underneath.
Turning into the entrance that led down to the section behind the bench, he nodded to the usher who grinned at him. Home team win meant happy fans, which made the arena’s employees’ job much easier. Standing on the landing beside the bejacketed man, Hoss looked down towards where the woman had been sitting, seeing with disappointment only an empty row of seats on the glass behind the home bench. “Hey, did you see a woman leave? Blonde hair, light colored hoodie? She was sitting on the far end of the last row, next to the boys.” The question was out of his mouth before he realized the ridiculousness of it and he followed it with a, “Yeah, never mind. Stupid question. Lotta light-haired women here, I know.”
Cassie Page 3