Chapter 7
seven
DANE
My head pops out from under the hood of the truck I’m working on when I hear the familiar low hum of an approaching motorcycle in the distance. We must have a visitor. Everyone who should be is already here. Instead of turning into the parking lot, the white noise grows louder as the bike gets closer to the garage bay.
Flinch appears seconds later, pulling off his bucket hat while taking purposeful strides toward me. Why the fuck is he here and not standing watch at Mrs. Grant's house? He better not have left my family unguarded.
Shrugging off his cut with swift movements, Flinch explains, “Tried to call your phone but there’s no signal. Darcy just dropped Owen off at the Marks’ house and went to Polly’s.”
“Go sit as close to her as you can. I’ll be there in a bit.”
He gives me a nod before heading down the street at a jog.
Closing the hood of the Chevy, I walk over to the utility sink, carefully washing away the grease on my hands. I’m not ashamed of how hard I work, but I don’t want to see my woman while I smell like motor oil. With a satisfied smile, I put on my cut, and amble over to the local diner. Darcy said no to dinner with me, so lunch it is.
Stepping onto the black-and-white checkered tile of the eatery, I pop my head in the flap-style doors looking for Polly, making a low whistling noise to draw her attention from the griddle. When she looks up at me with her eyebrows furrowed I ask, “When you come to our table, can you shove your earbuds in? My woman and I are having a little bit of a misunderstanding and I’ve finally gotten her to sit down to talk.”
“You’ve got a woman?” she scoffs, the wrinkles on her forehead deepening. “Next thing I know you’ll be asking for a high chair.”
Turning back toward the front, I laugh at her like it’s the most hysterical thing in the world. If she only knew.
Searching the room, I spot Darcy first. Her long dark hair is pulled back in a ponytail, eyes cast down at the table in concentration.
A few feet away, Flinch has the attention of the only waitress on the floor. The pretty young server leans in as she hands Flinch a menu, closer than she needs to, and stops as their bodies are touching to ask him a question. Typical. Picking up my phone I shoot off a text.
Dane
Keep the waitress busy
Flinch
For how long?
Dane
Offer to marry her if you have to
As I near, Darcy’s neck cranes backward as if she can sense me approaching. That’s right baby, I’m coming.
Eyes darker than mahogany turn stormy when our gazes meet. When I slide in the booth across from her, she lets out an annoyed huff and her body droops. Ignoring her less than enthusiastic greeting, I say, “It’s not safe to sit facing away from the entry when you’re eating alone.”
She breaks eye contact, looking back down at the paperwork on the table and flipping the ink pen restlessly in her hand. “You’re right. A big scary biker I don’t know might pop in and sit with me.” Folding the paperwork, she slips it into the side pocket of the purse next to her.
Sass. I get sass from her. No way is this woman anywhere near scared of me. When I lean forward, the sides of my lips start to tip up in a smile. "I'm pretty sure you know my name, Sugar,” I answer confidently.
Counting down the days until you’re screaming it.
“Which one?” she responds, amused. “I’ve heard you called V.P. and Odin, but you say to call you Dane.”
“To you, I’m Dane,” I assert again. I want her to see me as her man and our kids' dad. I never want to be the biker who earned his road name after a member of the Parish Kings met the wrong side of my ax.
As I’m shifting my long legs under the too small space she tells me in a sugared voice, “This booth looks a little uncomfortable for a man your size. There are plenty of tables.” She ends it with a fake smile and bat of her eyelashes as she points toward the middle of the room.
I ignore her comment, hiding my amusement. “You order yet?”
“I was just about to pay and leave,” she insists far too eagerly.
I’m going to have to keep Darcy away from the poker tables at the casino. She’s terrible at bluffing. Reaching for the menu in front of her I ask with a distant tone in my voice, “Have you tried the chicken and waffles? I think Polly added it to the menu after you moved away.”
Darcy looks around for her waitress. Her lips turn flat when she finds her practically crawling into Flinch’s lap. She takes a deep, pained breath. Here it is, where my woman tries to lay it out to me. I throw my arm across the back of the booth, waiting for the bullshit.
“Funny I should run into you. I just took a job at White Dog,” she informs me with an air of distance in her tone.
“Did you now?” I say with a chuckle. “I don’t see what the big deal is about sharing a meal with a coworker. You used to eat here all the time with Band-Aid.” I try to hide the bitterness poisoning my words.
Band-Aid and I certainly had a little conversation about his comfort level with my woman. With his patch on the line, the prospect downplayed his friendship with Darcy, I could tell.
“That was different,” she insists. “Nobody thought anything of it when he and I ate together…but us…”
“Us what?”
“People will notice how you look at me,” she whispers.
I whisper back, “And how do I look at you, Darcy?”
“You look at me like you want to…” she mutters, squirming on the black faux leather of the seat.
“Funny thing, Sugar,” I dare say, leaning in closer. “You look at me like you want me to.” I punctuate my statement with a lopsided grin that turns her face crimson. Her hand trembles before she forces it into her lap. Hiding my satisfied chuckle, I lean back again, watching her next move.
She looks behind her toward the kitchen, then at the waitress again, trying to catch an employee's eyes. A pout flicks over her lips.
Tricky situation she’s in. Before she can leave, she needs to pay for her drink and any food she’s ordered, and the only waitress is a little preoccupied right now.
“Why’d you come to town?” I ask.
“I dropped the baby off at daycare. I don’t want to go too far though in case I’m needed.”
She glances at the tattoo running down the inside of my left arm, and then her eyes roam appreciatively across my chest. Her full breasts move with each breath before her eyes narrow. “Why are you sitting with me?”
I wait for a three count, scanning her face for any emotion she’s keeping hidden from me. “Because I wanted to share a meal with you, and you ran when I asked.” She leans back onto the bench seat and casts her eyes down toward a straw wrapper. Darcy’s been extremely forthright with me when I ask her a direct question. I want to always do the same for her. She’ll just have to understand she can’t ask about club business.
Polly emerges from the kitchen, holding two plates of food in one hand and my usual carafe of coffee in the other. “Here you go, dear.” She serves Darcy her meal and places my usual order in front of me without meeting anyone's eyes, ear pods obediently shoved in her ears.
“Wait, ma’am, I’d like a box?” Darcy asks. As her attention is diverted, I slide the folded paperwork out of her bag and into the front of my cut. She was focusing on it pretty hard. Must be important. It can disappear for an hour or two.
As I asked, Polly strolls off not hearing Darcy, and smoothing down her dyed black hair on her way back to the kitchen.
Darcy deflates for a minute. “The service used to be good here,” she broods as she picks up a glass bottle of ketchup. The thick liquid sticks, even when Darcy smacks the bottom. When nothing comes out after several tries, she gives the condiment that glower I love. “Probably no chance of getting another one either.”
With patient movements, I reach across the table to take the container from Darcy. My fingers glide across the ones still gripping the bottle until she jerks away as if shocked by static.
It’s okay, Sugar, I feel it too. Our bodies and minds are trying to tell both of us something. Just lean into it and stop fighting.
With a pop at the neck, a large dollop plops onto the plate. As payment, I steal a steak fry, giving her a wink. “So, you never finished the sentence. How exactly do you think I look at you?” I ask, my words as brazen as my potato pilfering.
I’m treated to her scowl directed at me as I pop the fry into my mouth. God, I love that look. Fuck smiles. I’ll go to war for that expression right there.
She glances back down at her food, ignoring my question as she assembles the tomato and lettuce onto her burger. Her pupils are dilated when she looks up to me. I wonder if her eyes will look like that when she orgasms. The denim of my pants becomes more constricting around my ever-hardening dick at the thought.
“You and I are both fully aware of what you’re thinking when you look at me,” she accuses. There’s a blazing heat that passes between us at her words, an acknowledgment of the chemistry we share.
Leaning across the table, I run the back of my fingers down the unblemished skin of her arm, my body spiking with adrenaline. “And I also know how you react to it,” I answer in a silky tone. I watch her body to gauge a reaction. Her nipples are crested peaks against the thin fabric of her top, her chest not moving with breath for at least a three count.
She fumbles into her purse and removes her wallet, tossing a twenty onto the table next to her uneaten meal. She blinks contemplatively at me for a second and pulls in a deep breath to steady herself. “I need to go.”
I smile at her, because at any point in time, if Darcy wanted to leave, she could have tossed cash onto the table and walked out.
By the time I drop a couple of bills on the table and pick up her twenty, she’s already running to the safety of her car.
On my way out the door I call, “Hey, Polly, box up the food on the table for me and bring it to my girl? She’s in the Dodge Neon.”
Polly sticks her head around the corner, “Tell her to give me a minute and I’ll bring it to her.”
I follow her and just as she’s opening the sedan door, I stretch my arm out, caging her in. She’s frozen, blinking fast as she waits for me to speak.
I want to consume her. To join our mouths with the hunger I feel for her. Instead, I reach for her face, tilting her jaw until our eyes make contact. Her body movements are stiff as she stares at me with innocent doe-like eyes. Letting go of the door, I wrap an arm around her waist and draw her to me. Her breathing stills as I lean down and take my first taste of her. Her gasp of surprise turns into a moan when I sweep my tongue into her mouth. My dick is throbbing already against the zipper of my jeans, and I pull her close to it, wanting her to feel my need for her. My brain becomes muddled, and I forget anything and everything but the taste of her soft lips yielding under mine.
Long before I want to, I end the kiss, and slide the twenty into the back pocket of her denim shorts, “I always pay for meals,” I inform her softly, tracing her bottom lip with my thumb. “No leaving without eating. Polly’s bringing you a to-go box. Wait for it.”
I leave her in stunned silence as I turn to head back to the garage. Sliding on my Raybans, I bite back a satisfied smirk when I notice the school principal standing nearby, watching me pass with a shocked expression. She’ll tell all the women at the school house, and they’ll tell their neighbors and so forth until everyone knows Darcy and I were kissing in the parking lot of the diner.
Kissing Darcy in public? I may as well have branded her with a property tattoo.