by Rachel Cross
“Yes,” she replied, her heart constricting in her chest.
“And?”
“He’s fine,” she said, curtly. “I’ve got to go. I have a ton of work.”
“He still farming?”
She closed her eyes, but the memory of riding behind Nate on the ATV, pressed to his warm, flannel-clad back, arrived unbidden. She wiped her tear-filled eyes. “Yep.”
“He coming back?”
“Coming back?”
“To L.A., to music.”
“Is that why you sent me up there?” she returned coldly. “To feel him out about Spade’s latest project?”
You bastard.
“What? No! I was worried about him. He’s never gone so long without returning a call.”
There was something in his voice that smacked of guilt.
Her eyes narrowed. “Look, he’s never coming back, okay? He’s happy there. He’s … good. Don’t you dare pressure him into something. You hear me? Leave him alone,” her voice rose to a shout.
There was silence from the other end—then muffled laughter.
“Fuck you, Asher,” she said quietly, tears blurring her vision. “If I find out this is your idea of matchmaking … “
There was a long pause on the other end. “Maddy and Kate could see that you’re not happy, even if I couldn’t. And I’ve been there, Ava, I lost sight of the things that matter most.” The sincerity in his voice made her anger fade. Truth be told, she was kind of shocked. Devil-may-care Asher Lowe getting serious, who would’ve thought? “Don’t let that happen just because your head’s shoved up your day planner. There are people who can fill your shoes, you know.”
Ava bristled. “Are there? Do you know how much your arthritis benefit raised last year, Asher? Or the Sawyer’s foundation?” she said.
“Yeah, I do. To the penny. You’ve done an amazing job for us—succeeded beyond our wildest imaginings—brought awareness about the things close to our hearts to thousands of people. We’re grateful and we love you. But we want you to be happy and you aren’t.”
She didn’t argue with him, she couldn’t. And she was afraid if she opened her mouth she’d crack.
“You have options. You can get out of the business and turn everything over to that assistant of yours. Lisa.”
“Lucy,” she corrected him absently, her mind already turning.
“Sure. And you can cut back, do a few events a year instead of dozens. Or you can go back up to Farmville—”
“Watsonville.”
“Right—and make a life with Nate, helping him with that CSA thing and doing benefits, like that Valentine’s Day one for the charter school tomorrow night.”
Wait, how did he know … Anger surged through her. “What? Asher! You—”
“Oops,” he said, and hung up.
Ava sat staring at the phone in her hand, shaking her head. She rose from the couch with the first genuine smile in a week.
It was just before midnight by the time she locked up her condo. The roads were surprisingly quiet as she took the 101 freeway from Los Angeles to Watsonville. For the first two hundred miles, she debated turning around at each green-and-white lettered exit sign, at war with herself.
Was she crazy to give up the life she had in L.A. for a chance at a life with a bipolar, musician-turned-farmer ten years her senior? Her friends would be flabbergasted if she traded in her Prius for a diesel pick-up. She grinned.
Perhaps she was unduly influenced by how good the sex had been. She’d had good sex before, great sex even, but nothing approaching the intimacy they’d shared. And it wasn’t just the sex. It was his patience and generosity with the animals, with the land, and with her that she’d fallen in love with.
Her resolve hardened as she approached Watsonville. Before her, he’d lived his life without complications, but she would bring them, hell, she’d almost killed his dogs. But convince him she would. She had to.
She couldn’t live without him.
Chapter Six
He made his way into the barn to get the feed together. The last two mornings he’d struggled to get out of bed at dawn for the first time in years. There was this hollow emptiness after she’d left, and instead of getting better as the week progressed, it had amplified. Perhaps his medications needed an adjustment. He shook his head. If only. What ailed him wouldn’t be fixed by a dosage change or a new pill. Despite the preparations for the party tonight, he was consumed by thoughts of Ava.
Maybe he could re-enter her world. It had been years, his disorder was under control. There had to be some way. He’d make plans to go down to L.A., have Yancy take care of things on the farm for a few days. It wasn’t a long-term solution of course, and his gut clenched at the memories of that life, the traffic, the smog, and worst of all the teeming mass of noisy humanity that he’d traded in for this idyllic life. But for her, he’d try a long-distance relationship. People made those work, didn’t they?
He emerged from the barn, blinking in the early morning light and spotted a car creeping up his dirt road. It was a little blue Prius. For a split second, the thought crossed Nate’s mind that he was hallucinating. No, that cloud of dust was no mirage. His heart leaped in his chest, and he was dizzy with joy. He tried to rein in his happiness, tried to rub the stupid grin from his face but it was no use. He took off running down the dirt road, Molly and Ray next to him, barking excitedly at the sight of a beaming Ava exiting her vehicle.
Nate took her in his arms roughly, swinging her around as she wrapped her legs around his waist and raised her head, giving him her mouth.
Nate kissed her with all the joy and desperation and love he could no longer restrain. He set her on the hood of her car, cupped her jaw in his hands and continued, stroking into her mouth, setting them both on fire. She clawed at his clothing, rubbed herself against him. Ray leaped up on his hip, barking non-stop. Laughing he tore his mouth away. “Down, Ray.”
Ava looked over his shoulder, down the drive to an approaching truck, shook her head at him and said, “Down, Nate.”
He groaned. He’d forgotten how many people he was expecting today for the Valentine’s Day dinner.
He could barely make his mouth shape the words, he leaned in and whispered. “How long can you stay?”
“As long as you want,” she responded, with a smile that took his breath away.
“Really?” He couldn’t believe it. “But what about L.A.? Your business?”
“I’m going to manage annual events for the Lowe’s and the Sawyer’s, help out with a few others, but I made my assistant a co-owner. She’s a dynamo who thrives on the pace.”
“You won’t miss it?” He was in shock, barely able to process all that was happening.
“I might,” she said, shrugging. “But I’d miss you more.”
Shocked and overwhelmed, Nate could only stare at Ava, wondering how on earth how he’d gotten so damn lucky.
• • •
He rose from his chair to the makeshift podium, stacked hay bales. A few people clanged on their wine glasses to quiet everyone down as their host prepared to speak. He saw Ava, standing in the back. She’d been working since she arrived. She always jumped in—whether to help with the dogs, pick squash in the fields with him or organize the heck out of this little shindig so it ran without a hiccup. That was the kind of person she was—capable, hardworking and effervescent. It was funny to think about it now, but his initial assessment of her standing in his driveway with her fancy ruined boots had been completely off target.
He cleared his throat, as the crowd quieted and held her eyes, pretending he was speaking only to her. “As you know, about thirty of these hundred and fifty acres do not grow crops—they don’t even belong to me; they’re protected by the California Conservancy and I’m simply the steward. Years of farming in the area around this wetland led to invasive plant growth and the near extinction of several kinds of rare plants. What difference do these plant species make? As it turns out, it makes a big
difference. The local insects, birds, and mammals need the native plants to build nests and to feed and raise their young.”
He looked out over the slough. “Since I bought the property five years ago, I’ve been working with a biologist to restore the land, in hopes that native species of all kinds will return. Our weed-whacking team—that’d be two cows, six goats, and a horse—” laughter rippled through the crowd "—are hard at work clearing away the non-native grasses. And I’m happy to tell you that this year, for the first time in twenty years, the sunflowers have returned out there. And so have the white pelicans. There’s even a pair of osprey with a nest on that treetop.” People at the tables craned their necks to look at the nest he pointed to. “Twenty acres have been reseeded and we are witnessing the return of many native species of plants and wildflowers.” A number of diners clapped, and Nate stopped speaking to let their appreciation be heard.
“In the past few years, I’ve learned that certain seeds are fragile and need patience and coaxing—especially once their ecosystem has broken down. I sometimes think I’d never have attempted to return the estuary to its native state if I’d realized what an obvious metaphor it is for my own life.”
There was more laughter, Doctor Yancy’s loud hoots rising above the rest, and Nate grinned. “And as I look out at all of you, I realize that it hasn’t been just the animals of the four-legged variety who have helped restore this estuary. So, I thank you all for supporting this endeavor and for welcoming me into your community these past five years. And I’d like to announce that I have a new partner, Ava Bennett,”—Nate pointed to her at the back of the crowd, and she waved—“who is going to facilitate efforts here,” he gestured to the slough, then took a breath, holding Ava’s eyes, “and here,” he tapped the area over his heart. Ava sent him a heart-melting smile.
There was a collective “awww” and shouts of congratulations from the gathered crowd as Nate stepped off the podium and made his way to Ava, who’d been helping assemble plates near the grills. Grabbing her hand, he led her toward the house.
“What? Nate, no,” she gasped. “They need help out there.”
“Tough.” He picked up his giggling blonde and carried her over the threshold. Kicking the front door closed behind him, he ignored the curious eyes of the staff operating in his kitchen and carried her up the stairs.
“They decided this thing should be the first annual benefit dinner, you know, so that means we’ll be invaded by two hundred people every Valentine’s Day,” he said, as he stepped into his room and laid her down on the bed. “Which sucks, because it’s a day that finally has meaning for me. I love you, Ava Bennett.”
She smiled shyly, curled her arm around his neck and whispered, “I love you, Nathaniel Robbins.”
“Can you be happy here? Really happy?”
She nodded, her heart shining out of her eyes. “Home is wherever I am with you. But are you going to be happy with me here every day? Always underfoot? Making you install Wi-Fi? I’ll be getting all up in your business.”
Nate groaned. “Guess we’ll have to see about that,” he said but he was smiling as he unbuttoned her blouse, pushing her further up the bed. “But first, let me get all up in yours.”
Ava laughed then, low and soft, the sound just like music.
About the Author
http://readrachelcross.com/
Fueled by black jelly beans and Pinot noir (never together), Rachel Cross writes fast-paced contemporary romance with a twist. She lives by the beach in California with her surfer dude/helicopter pilot husband and two daughters. Before becoming a romance author she was a professional firefighter, paramedic, clinical research manager, small business owner, and Weekly World News tabloid “model.”
Rock Her, Rock Him and Spiraling are now available from Crimson Romance.
Read more about her at:
http://readrachelcross.com/ website
https://twitter.com/ReadRachelCross Twitter
https://www.facebook.com/pages/Rachel-Cross/116558055203658?ref=hl Facebook
Laying Down His Colors
Debra Kayn
This one is for my readers, who can’t get enough of my bikers and send me the awesomest emails begging for more. When I heard Crimson Romance was putting together a Valentine’s Day anthology, my first thought was that it’d be the perfect opportunity to give my readers a Bantorus MC member’s story that I knew wouldn’t be getting his own full-length novel. Then I shook my head and muttered, “But bikers don’t do candy and flowers. They do sex. Lots of sex. It’ll never fit.” Well, you know how bossy and demanding those badasses can be. I gave Bruce his story, and Crimson Romance gave a big booyah for sex instead of candy and flowers.
Wheels – Between middle-of-the-night pool, rattle cans, stencils, and AK47s, you keep me real.
To my Chicker Gang – You girls are the best street team an author can have. Love ya!
Kimberly – Hey, girl. This is going to come as a surprise to you, because you’re also included up there in the Chicker Gang dedication, but you deserve a little limelight. I want you to know how special you are to me. We’ve shared some similarities and some real life stuff. I admire your soft heart and the kindness you share, not only with your family, but your online family too. My life is richer for knowing you. Now, I just need to use my magic to find you the perfect biker. That way you can move by me, and we can be neighbors.
And as always, to CSC.
Chapter One
Kristen downed the full shot glass in front of her and closed her eyes, waiting for the heat of the whiskey to hit. On stage, Jack and the Bangers band was playing “Caught Up In You,” an awesome .38 Special song. The crowd gathered in Cactus Cove swayed and clapped along, but Kristen sighed and checked her watch.
The last thing she wanted to do was spend the night around the Bantorus Motorcycle Club, but the man she came to talk to gave her no choice. She glanced over at Bruce Grennan, bartending behind the counter, and clenched her teeth together. Somehow, she had to get him alone where she could talk in private, away from the other Bantorus members.
Tomorrow was Valentine’s Day—or as Kristen had come to call it Bruce-Rocked-My-World Day. Last year, he’d escorted her to the party at Cactus Cove and somehow, the whole night had turned into a flirt-fest. Seeing as how she was raised in the Bantorus MC and was almost twelve years younger than him, not once had Kristen thought he’d notice her as an available woman or believed she stood a chance with him.
But oh, he’d noticed her all right, and then some.
No matter how many times she went over that night in her head, Kristen was left wondering if she somehow missed what had really set things off between them. All she knew was she’d stood on the other side of the pool table and when she looked up, he was staring at her. That’s all it took. Together, they escaped the party and by the time they hit the front door of her cabin behind Cactus Cove, she was naked and he was slipping a condom on.
And then when she’d woken up the next morning, she’d been alone. Bruce had avoided her when she went to find him, refused to speak. In fact he hadn’t uttered another word to her in the past year aside from asking her to pass on messages to other club members. Even then, he refused to meet her gaze and left as soon as he’d delivered the message.
She’d even tried to quietly question her dad once to find out if anything was bothering Bruce, but that had been a mistake. Her dad believed in old school rules for the MC. Daughters weren’t supposed to show any interest in a member. Afraid her curiosity would seem suspicious and the truth would come out, she’d never asked again.
Still, it’d been torture seeing him around the garage, and he’d slowly been driving her insane by his standoffish attitude. She looked away from him now and back to the band. It’d teach him right if she confessed everything to her dad about what had happened between them, and her father banned his ass from coming to the garage.
But if she spoke of what happened, she’d only be punishing hers
elf and despite how Bruce had ignored her, she couldn’t let go. They were supposed to be friends. She missed hanging out with him during the get-togethers, listening to his advice, and knowing he would always talk with her when the Bantorus members shut themselves off from everyone else. She missed him.
If only her feelings would turn to hatred, she’d be able to move on with her life. She peeked at Bruce again, hating how the club bitches hung around him. Granted, he was working and there was nothing he could do about the groupies fawning over him. The idea of how many he’d had in his bed over the past year made her stomach clench. But Kristen knew the score. She’d grown up in the club, her dad was the treasurer, and she’d spent more nights at Cactus Cove than at home while the Bantorus members went about their business.
She often wondered if Bruce would notice her if she was bitch material, but being the daughter of a member made that impossible. Every biker treated her like she was their own kid, even though she was twenty-two years old. Except Bruce, who’d let her be wild and free for one night at least, and let her forget that she was Pete’s daughter.
It had taken two years after her eighteenth birthday to convince her dad and Rain, the president of the MC, to let her rent one of the cabins in the back parking lot of the bar. She’d worked steadily at Shift’s Garage for two years prior to moving out and despite her argument that she would be well protected on Bantorus property, it was Bruce who made it possible for her to move out of her dad’s house and into the cabin when he stood up for her and went against club vote.
Bruce was always the one who seemed to give her permission to spread her wings, while making sure she remained safe and within the rules. She dug her fingernail into the edge of the wooden bar in front of her and sighed. Bruce had escorted her to parties, so she could attend them—seeing as how you had to be an old lady or be chaperoned by a member to get into the bar during certain times. Sometimes, he’d even sit out on her porch in the evenings and listen to her talk about stupid stuff.