Chapter Eleven
River
––––––––
Cheers and yelling increased, invading the quiet at the back of the house. River rolled off the chaise lounge and walked barefoot around the house until she could see what was happening.
Halfway between the bar and the clubhouse, a crowd had gathered. She couldn't see what grabbed everyone's attention. Knowing that whatever the bikers were doing was none of her business, she returned to the deck and moved the lounge chair into the sunshine.
The days were still cool, but the sunshine warmed her skin and felt wonderful after a long winter of wearing layers of clothes to keep the cold out. She stretched, closing her eyes. It was her day off. She planned to laze around until she got hungry enough to walk over and eat at the bar.
A gunshot blasted the air. She sprang up on the chair. Several more bangs followed before she could figure out where the noise came from. She slid on her sneakers and walked inside the house. Grabbing her backpack, she went out the front door and walked to the bar.
She entered through the back door and waved to Lori, dressed all in blue today. The fifty-five-year-old woman loved to color coordinate her outfits. Yesterday, it was orange. Tomorrow, she'd surprise everyone by wearing a different color. Sometimes, Lori would even color a strip of her hair to match her outfits.
"You're early, baby." Lori flipped pancakes. "Do you want breakfast or lunch? I have both going."
She inhaled deeply. The many aromas in the kitchen always comforted her, but not enough to make her want to keep her hands in dishwater all day or stack another load of dishes in the dishwasher during the heat of summer.
"I'll have breakfast." She moved out of the way and sat at the back counter on the stool. "Anything I can do to help?"
Lori pointed the flipper at her. "Just sit right there and tell me what's going on at the big house."
"Not much. I'm working four days at the campground, which has been more fun than I thought." She half turned on the stool. "It gets surprisingly busy, so the hours pass pretty fast."
"Any cute boys working over that way?" Lori raised her brows. "Maybe even campers?"
She shrugged. "I went out with Taylor last night."
"That girl." Lori shook her head. "She's going to end up pregnant before the year is over. Just mark my words. I thought one of the bikers would snatch her up and keep her from getting into trouble."
"She's not wild-wild." She swung her feet. "She just likes to have fun."
"Mm-hm." Lori slid two fried eggs on a plate with two pancakes. "But then again, maybe you can take some lessons from Taylor and go out and have some fun, too."
She'd tried that, and it ended badly. She'd be happier if Zane wanted to go out with her, but that would never happen.
"Orders up," yelled Lori.
Tee and Meghan hustled in, spotted River, and rushed over to hug her. She laughed and pushed them toward the food waiting for delivery before customers complained.
"Are you back?" Tee piled five plates on one arm.
"Nope, but you'll see me when I come over to get my meals."
Tee and Meghan were going out with two bikers. They spent most of their non-working hours with their boyfriends.
"It's not the same without you and Taylor in the kitchen." Meghan stuck out her lip before pushing through the swinging doors.
"She's right." Lori lugged a box of frozen hamburger patties to the closest freezer. "Zane might be surprised when I walk away from the job if he doesn't hire others to help run this bar. I can't do it all myself."
"I'm sorry." She stood. "Let me help, at least on my days off. It's my fault you're stuck doing all the work—"
"Stop." Lori walked her back to the counter, pushed her onto the stool, and pointed. "You're here to eat and listen to me complain. I'll survive. I've run this place since Zane and Kingsley's daddy built the bar. I can handle a little extra work as long as they know I'm not going to do it forever."
She considered how to help Lori while she ate. It wouldn't hurt her to work on the three days she had off from the campground. As much as she disliked kitchen work, she was grateful for the last three years of having a job and earning money to save toward finding her sister.
While she couldn't fix Lori's problem, she could talk to the person who could get her more kitchen help.
She finished half her meal and dumped the rest in the garbage before Lori could lecture her. Then, she added the dishes in the bin to the dishwasher and set them to wash.
Lori blew her a kiss. She waved and hefted her bag over her shoulder as she left through the back door.
Instead of heading to the house, she walked up the hill. The men causing all the chaos earlier were gone. Only a dozen motorcycles remained outside the clubhouse.
She spotted Zane's Harley. He always parked closest to the door.
Pushing the heavy door open, she stepped inside and blinked to adjust her vision. No matter the time of day, the interior was always dim unless you entered the office.
Snake sat on the back of the couch, watching a baseball game on the television on the wall. She approached him and waited until he noticed her standing there.
When the game cut to a commercial, he turned to her. "What's up?"
"I'm looking for Zane. Do you know where he is?"
"Office."
"Can I go back there?" she asked.
"Go ahead." His attention went back to the television as the announcer started talking.
"Thanks." She walked to the back of the room and down a short hallway.
On the right, there was a closed door. She knocked.
"Doors open," yelled Zane.
She turned the handle and stepped inside. Smoke tickled her nose. Zane was kicked back in the chair, his boots planted on the corner of the desk, and a cigar hung from his fingers.
At seeing her, he frowned. "What's wrong?"
"I need to talk to you."
"Can't it wait?"
"No." She stepped forward until the desk was between them. "It's about Lori."
"What about her?" He puffed on the cigar.
Smoke rings slipped out of his mouth, floated into the air between them, and dispersed when she blinked. She tilted her head in anticipation of the next time he exhaled. It was the sexiest thing she'd seen.
"River?"
She jolted. "Um, Lori's all by herself in the kitchen, and that's a three-person job. She needs help. I'm willing to work at the bar on my three days off—"
"No."
"But, Zane, she's tired, and it's too much work for her." She stepped closer. "I'd also love to make the extra money."
"Tomorrow morning, she'll have two women willing to do kitchen work. She'll have help," he said.
"So, you've hired them already?" She exhaled softly. "You should tell Lori."
"Are you telling me how to run Gem Haven now?" He blew more rings up into the air.
Her nipples hardened, and she shivered. She caught his gaze dropping to the front of her shirt, catching her reaction to him.
"No." She shrugged. "But it's my fault Lori's working the kitchen by herself. Even the waitresses can't lend a hand when it gets busy."
His boots hit the floor with a thunk as he straightened in the chair. She jumped at the sudden movement.
"Come here." He motioned her around the desk with the cigar.
Her legs quivered. This was Zane's domain. She was out of her element in the clubhouse. The things said and done inside the building were a mystery to her.
When she stood beside him, he put the cigar in his mouth, grabbed her by the waist, and sat her on the desk's surface.
She grasped the edge of the desk. "What are you doing?"
"I'm sitting here enjoying a cigar I got from Bank—you know him, right?" He waited for her nod. "His wife had a baby boy last night." He held the cigar between his fingers. "He passed these around to everyone when he stopped to share the good news."
He blew rings up in the air, looking for her reaction. She dug her fingernails into the wood.
"How do you do that?" she whispered.
His eyes warmed. "Do what?"
"Blow rings of smoke."
He puffed on the cigar and performed for her again. She leaned forward and collected one with her hand, watching the smoke vanish.
She laughed. "I want to do it."
"Have you ever smoked before?"
She shook her head.
"Well, you're not going to smoke this either." He handed her the cigar. "Draw on it and hold the smoke in your mouth."
"Draw?"
His gaze intensified. "Suck."
Oh. Her thoughts went somewhere else.
"Soft sucks." The corner of his mouth tilted. "Put your tongue back and close off your throat. After a couple of puffs, hold the smoke in your mouth. Don't let it go down your throat."
He wrapped his fingers around her wrist, brought the cigar to his mouth, took a couple of puffs, and demonstrated what he wanted her to do. She caught her lip between her teeth, watching his mouth soften and part, and then a ring of smoke escaped his lips.
"Your turn," he said.
She snapped out of the haze he created in the room. It was all too much.
He put her hand up toward her mouth and guided the cigar she held between her lips. "That's it, sweetheart," he whispered.
She watched his eyes heat up and sucked—smoke hit the back of her throat, and she coughed.
Zane chuckled, rubbing her leg. Wanting to save face, she lifted the cigar to her lips, repeated the puffs, and then pressed her lips together.
He cupped her cheeks, using his thumbs to caress her lips. "Soften them."
She relaxed as much as she could while holding her breath and trying not to choke on the smoke.
"Now, slowly open your mouth and blow just enough to let the smoke escape."
She parted her lips and tilted her chin.
Zane tapped her cheek. The act created a small ring that floated out of her. The rest of the smoke came out in a rush.
"Did you see it?" She laughed.
His gaze locked onto her. "Yeah, sweetheart, prettiest thing I've ever seen."
He set the cigar in the ashtray on his desk and picked her up, letting her straddle his thighs. Bringing her forward, he captured her mouth. She wrapped her arms around his neck, molding herself to him.
His tongue removed all remnants of the smoke she'd held in her mouth and replaced it with pure Zane. She latched onto the excitement of him kissing her in his world, in his territory, in his motorcycle club.
He dug his fingers into the flare of her hips, drawing her closer. She pressed her breasts to his chest, wanting to rub her body against his.
Drunk on his kiss, she whined in protest when he pulled his mouth off her.
"Someone's banging on the door." He kissed her hard and picked her up from his lap, holding her until she found her balance.
He grabbed his cock through his jeans and rearranged himself. She ran her hands through her hair, not understanding what it meant when someone banged on a door or what it meant that she couldn't draw air into her lungs.
Bang. Bang. Bang.
"Breath." Zane cupped her face, kissing her lightly. "I have to answer that."
She nodded, understanding that he had a club to run but hating the interruption and wishing she could have him back because she had no idea when she'd be able to have a piece of him again.
Right now, she'd even take sharing him with his club, but he was all or nothing, and the club owned his soul. She wasn't jealous of the MC. They were what made him happy.
Okay, she was a little jealous. To have the kind of dedication, loyalty, and attention he gave the club would send her over the moon.
He crossed the room and opened the door. She stayed in the back of the room. The very things she admired in him—his leadership, strength, and respect—kept him from loving her completely.
He never gave her a reason why he pulled away from her.
She never wanted to press for answers because she feared losing him.