Silver Biker: The Silver Foxes of Blue Ridge

by L. B. Dunbar

  “I understand if you never want to see me again.”

  “Shit, Evelyn. You don’t get it, do you? I’m sitting here. I’ve been here all night waiting for you. The staff had no idea where you were, and you weren’t answering your phone.”

  I never thought to look at my phone. I hadn’t given it a glance the entire day or night. My focus had all been consumed by one man, and once I put my signature on these papers, I wouldn’t be linked to him other than the history we once had.

  “I’m so sorry.” My lips tremble again as the words are not enough. James said them to me over and over again, and in some small way, I understand him better. An apology will never be enough to take away the pain I’m causing the man before me. Two words do not take away a lie, take away the pain, or restore anyone’s faith.

  Dalton scoots his chair closer to mine and wraps an arm over me. His lips press into the side of my head.

  “I’m going to ask you again if you still love him, Evelyn.”

  Tears fall harder. “I’m sorry,” I whisper again without directly answering him, and with his forehead at my temple, he nods against me.

  “Me too.”

  21

  Fight or Flight

  [James]

  The second I hear Evie invite that douche to her room, I’m outta there. I storm across the pavement back to my bike and roar out of the parking lot as though I’m trying to outrace a forest fire. As much as I want to ride free, I don’t trust myself right now, so I head to the bar. Ridged Edge isn’t open before noon, but Justice is typically there doing who knows what, and I need a drink. Or at least company who will stop me from doing something stupid.

  When I hammer at the door with my fist, the wood vibrates in the jamb before Bear Grady whips it open.

  “Where’s the fire?” he blurts, eyeing me before I brush past him, forcing him out of my way.

  “I need a drink,” I holler, louder than necessary.

  “Bar’s closed.”

  To my surprise, I find Justice leaning over the bar talking to that pesky new wife of Charlie’s.

  “Janessa,” I snap. “Out.” Her head snaps up at me, but she’s a tough woman, and she narrows her eyes to slits.

  “Excuse me?”

  “You’re excused. Now get out.”

  “Last I checked, I own this bar,” Justice states, matching Janessa’s glare at me.

  “Last I checked, I invested in it to keep it open.”

  Janessa’s head swivels back and forth between this interchange, and I don’t even feel remotely guilty for revealing a secret I swore I wouldn’t share with others. I’m invested in the bar even though my brother owns the Pub in town. I did it because I wanted a place for us outcasts to go, and the unofficial clubhouse is the private residence of Justice.

  “I’m here to discuss the fundraiser with Justice,” Janessa clarifies as if I haven’t told her to leave. I walk right up to the bar where a stack of papers sits next to her laptop and toss the papers across the place. The sheets scatter like falling leaves, and Janessa glances over her shoulder, stunned by my actions.

  “Unless you want this laptop to be the next thing thrown across this room, you’ll get out as I asked.” I force a false smile, but my meaning is clear. I don’t want to hear about the fucking ride, and I don’t want to look at her right now.

  Janessa Cruz is a beautiful woman with dark hair and deep green eyes. She’s curvy and luscious, and all my brother Charlie’s, but she’s inserted herself into business with this club because of that other pesky wench Cora, and I’m not having it today.

  My hand is shoved off the edge of her laptop, and she slams it shut. “Justice, we can reschedule. I’ll talk to Cora.” She slides off the barstool, and I follow her retreat to the front door. I want to make certain she leaves, but I don’t miss Justice’s eyes tracking the sway of her backside.

  “That woman has some balls.”

  “Quit checking out her ass,” I warn. “And let me know when you get yours back.” Cora, shit.

  “Just what the fuck is your problem?”

  “Everything.” I sigh, perching myself on a stool and placing the heel of my hands against my forehead. “Just . . . ah,” I yell.

  Justice presses off the bar top and reaches for a shot glass, filling it full to the brim with amber liquid. I slam back the offered drink allowing the burn to coat my throat and cut like a knife going down.

  “What happened?” he repeats, glaring at me.

  “Evelyn has a boyfriend,” I whine as I say the adolescent term, sounding juvenile and petulant. “That’s why she’s divorcing me.”

  Justice huffs and shakes his head.

  “What?” I demand of the disappointed chuckle that follows.

  “She’s not divorcing your ass because of some boyfriend. She’s divorcing you because you have your head up your ass.”

  What the . . .? Giant’s words come back to me in the sound of Justice’s voice. “I do not.”

  “Do so,” Justice responds, and now we both sound like dickhead teenagers. “Look, since the moment I met you, you’ve been a risk-taker. You’ve tossed yourself into harm’s way more times than I can count, but your wife returns, and you’re running scared.”

  “I’m not scared.”

  “Then what happened?” His eyes widen, waiting out my explanation.

  “I gave her an ultimatum. If she slept with me, I’d sign the papers.”

  “I remember this.” Justice bitterly chuckles.

  “Anyway—” I continue.

  “She refused to fuck ya because of that bullshit,” he interprets for himself.

  “That is not what happened.”

  “Well, I’d refuse ya, giving her a bullshit ultimatum like that.”

  “She didn’t have to have sex with me.” My eyes lower to the bar top. “I just wanted her to sleep with me again. Sleep next to me.” I turn my focus toward the pool tables, keeping my eyes from him. “Ever just want to sleep next to a woman because she’s warm and feels good, and you just need to hold onto something decent in your life?”

  Justice remains quiet for too long, and I finally give in to glance back at him. He’s holding still, still holding the bottle of Jack in his fist, but he’s staring at me like I just professed my soul to him.

  “Yeah,” he quietly says. “Yeah, I know that feeling.”

  I shake my head because I do not want images of Justice with Corabelle Conrad in my head.

  “Anyway. Evie slept with me. I signed the papers, and when I returned her to the Lodge this morning, her douche boyfriend was waiting for her.”

  Justice stares at me. Glaring. Assessing. Then he shakes his head. “You are a fucking idiot.”

  “What the fuck, man?”

  “I did not take you for a quitter.”

  “I am not a quitter.”

  “You are now.” His voice rises as he slams the bottle of Jack on the counter.

  “How?”

  “You’re sitting here, and your wife is at a hotel with some dick. Which happens not to be yours.”

  I glare back at Justice. “That’s what I just said.”

  “Because you quit her.” His eyes narrow as he leans toward me.

  “I did not.”

  “You did.”

  “I—” I have no argument. I’d pushed Evie away before, and it led to this exact moment. The moment when she chose someone else over me. She was taking that guy to her room, and as much as I wanted to call him a dick, he looked like a respectable dude. He looked a bit like Charlie, only buffer and bulkier, and he could have kicked my ass six ways to Sunday, but I’d have put up one hell of a fight.

  What would you have been fighting for, though?

  For Evie.

  The answer slams into me. I would have been fighting for my wife. I don’t want her in a room with some dude in a suit who can probably talk circles around Evelyn like Charlie can, arguing his case, defending his honor, and winning her over.

  “Fuck,” I
yell again, tossing my head back and slapping a hand on the counter. It’s as if I’m thrown back nineteen years ago all over again.

  + + +

  Nineteen years ago . . .

  “I was engaged.” Evie’s voice was sheepish, and she couldn’t look at me. Her wrists were crossed in that habit I’d learned the two weeks we’d been together. I took her to my parents. She took me to hers. It didn’t end well with her folks, and I tried to assure her I had enough family to love her three times over.

  But her words had stunned me.

  “Explain,” I demanded through gritted teeth. She’d just gotten off the phone with her mother, and she was obviously upset about something.

  “A week before I met you, I broke off my engagement with Emerson Shaw. He was a family friend. We’d been kind of destined for each other since birth.”

  “What does that even mean?” I scoffed, wondering if that was really even a thing.

  “It means, since childhood, all I’ve heard is how one day I would marry—marry Emerson—and we eventually were engaged.”

  I stare at her, disbelieving what I’m hearing. Engaged? She’d been with another man as recent as a week before me. I didn’t have a right to judge as Dolores had been around for me, but still . . . I hadn’t known what to think.

  “What happened?” Was she having second thoughts about marrying me? I hadn’t officially asked, but we’d been openly talking about it. It was going to happen. We just hadn’t gotten to the when, where, and how, or a ring and my official proposal.

  “I just couldn’t do it.” She shrugs, her eyes avoiding mine.

  “Did you love him?” I hate that I’m asking and hate that I’m not going to like her answer if she says yes.

  “I thought I did, but I think it was more the conditioning. Like I was supposed to love him because he was a friend, and our relationship was convenient.”

  “Yeah, but was it satisfying?” It was another question I didn’t want answered. She shook her head, and a mischievous grin curled her lips. Well, at least I have that going for me, I remember thinking.

  “So what’s got you so upset, Peach?”

  Her eyes avoided mine again, and I knew if we were going to get anywhere in our new relationship, we needed to be honest with one another. I’d always been honest with Dolores, and I felt bad that she misunderstood where we were going because I’d told her where I stood. I hadn’t wanted to get married—until Evie.

  “Peach, you need to talk to me.”

  “My parents don’t approve.” She didn’t have to spell it out. We already knew this about our situation and me. They didn’t think the beer-producing bastard, as they’d called me, could provide for their little princess.

  “They’re suggesting I come home and speak with Emerson. Mother already has, and she says he’s willing to marry me. He’ll accept my indiscretion even.”

  The air around me stilled, and I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t be hearing what I was hearing.

  “Are you fucking kidding me? Your . . . indiscretion.” I spit. “That’s my fucking baby,” I said, pointing at her belly where she wasn’t showing more than a little swell and only if she was naked, which only I was going to see. No one else was getting her naked but me.

  Evie doesn’t respond to my outburst, so I let loose another one.

  “Is that what you want? Do you want to go back to him?”

  Evie’s eyes stay lowered. “Mother says it’d be the responsible thing to do, and I’ve acted very irresponsibly.”

  I stared at my future wife, wondering who she was. Where was the eager woman on the mountain? Why was she acting so meek in discussing her parents, and why the fuck was she listening to them?

  “Peach, you’re twenty-six years old. You can do what you want, which includes running back to him or sticking with me.”

  Finally, she looked up at me, those blue eyes bright and frightened for some reason.

  “They promised not to punish the child for the sins of the parent.” Liquid pooled in her eyes, and I could see this was hard on her. She’d rebelled for the first time in her life, and it had been a doozy of a rebellion.

  “Fuck that noise, Peach.” I took a deep breath, placing my hands on my hips and turning my gaze away from her for a minute. After taking another breath that did nothing to calm me, I turned back to her, narrowing my eyes. “It’s him or me, Evie. Your choice.”

  A tear rolled down her cheek, and I hated giving her an ultimatum. Essentially, I was telling her to pick her parents or me. I also hated that she couldn’t immediately pick me, but we were still new in our situation. Two weeks wasn’t enough time to declare unconditional love, but I was there. I knew it in my heart before I spoke the words. I was going to love her with everything I had.

  If only she’d pick me.

  “Peach,” I quietly said her name. “Are you with me?” I was holding my breath. I’m not certain my heart even beat as I waited out the longest sixty seconds of my life.

  “I’m with you, Ranger.”

  + + +

  While my heart is racing, and I fear what I’d find on the other side of this hotel door, I can’t let it happen. I can’t let her choose another man without putting up a damn good fight. I hammer on her hotel door, my palm flat to emphasize the urgency.

  “Evie, open up.”

  Any second, I was going to draw attention to myself, and someone was going to call security if Cora even had any at the Lodge. That would be the moment I broke in the damn door between my wife and me.

  When the door slowly opens, Evelyn’s body fills the sliver of space. Before me stands a solemn woman, eyes swollen from tears, face ruddy and raw. Her eyes remain lowered as her hand clutches the door like the wood is holding her up.

  “Peach?”

  She shakes her head and steps back into the room, leaving the door slightly ajar. While the vein in my neck pulses, I enter the room to find Evie as the only occupant. She crawls back up on the bed and curls into herself, and I shut the door behind me. Quiet tears shake her body.

  “No, baby,” I hiss. Climbing up behind her, I tuck her under my arms and pull her back to my chest. To my surprise, she rolls to face me. Her fingers clutch at my shirt, and I hold her tighter to me. I can’t get her close enough. I want to kiss the tears off her face and bury myself inside her, and make her forget about another guy, as I did all those years ago.

  That night, nineteen years ago, I made love to Evie all night long, reminding her how good we were together. The next morning, we went house hunting and eventually selected our home. Maturity told me I should not use sex to heal her aching heart now. Instead, I needed to press her to me while my own heart was ripping in half. I could do this for her. I could allow her to have her tears for another man.

  “Do you need me to kick his ass?”

  She shakes her head, tightening her fingers in my tee and nuzzling her nose into my collar.

  “Did he touch you?” I’ll kill him if he harmed her. I’d also like to kill him if he touched her, but I accept there might have been a goodbye kiss. At least, I hope there was a goodbye. Fuck the kiss.

  I have to ask. “Is he waiting for you somewhere?”

  She shakes her head again.

  “Are you waiting for him?” I whisper, afraid of her answer, but still clutching her tighter to me.

  “No,” she says and finally looks up at me. Her eyes are full of tears, and I’ve never seen her so sad. Although sad is the wrong word. I have seen her sad. Today, she looks lost.

  I press a kiss to her forehead, and she tips back, her expression pleading, her eyes begging. I know what she’s silently asking of me, but I can’t give it to her. I can’t be her rebound. He was the rebound, and now he’s gone.

  Cupping the back of her head, I pull her back to my chest, closing my eyes against the fight to take her mouth like she wanted.

  I will not fuck my wife.

  I will not fuck her.

  I will lie here and hold her.

&n
bsp; I will love her.

  For as long as I live, I will love her no matter how much I’ve hurt her, no matter how much she’s hurting.

  “I won’t let go, Peach,” I whisper to the top of her head, pressing her into me. I hold her as if I can pull her inside me where she already lives in my soul.

  22

  It Was Always Him.

  [Evie]

  Sometime during the evening, or maybe the middle of the night, James leaves me alone in the hotel room. I’d fallen asleep and slept for nine hours, a new record. I was emotionally worn out between the two men in my life and lay on the bed staring at the ceiling when I woke.

  Admittedly, I’d come to the conclusion there was really only one man in my life—James.

  He always would be a part of me, even if we needed to be apart. We’d been saying our I love yous muddled in with our goodbye, and while I no longer had Dalton in my life, it was time to move on. Dalton had been a spark that taught me my flame could still ignite. Maybe not a full fire, maybe not a roaring burn, maybe not a forest inferno, but a flame nonetheless, and it was time.

  James did not want me.

  Still, I wondered why he returned to my hotel room. What was he doing here? He thought my tears were for another man, but they were for everything. There was a loss with Dalton, but the greater loss was James. I’d been telling him I loved him. I’d practically begged him to kiss me. However, James drew a line, and that line was yesterday when I looked up at him, begging my husband to want me again.

  He didn’t.

  I needed to just let him go. I couldn’t seem to break through all the pain he carried, all the pain he caused me. He’d been saying things loud and clear for years with his absence, and despite pretty words professed yesterday morning, I had to accept what he was telling me. He loves me, but he doesn’t want me. We’d always be in each other’s soul, in the place where Michael rested, but we would not be part of each other’s bodies. It was just too much for him.