17. Korine
17
KORINE
“Merry Christmas, Mama!” I stride into the bedroom full of energy. A mug of hot chocolate rests in one of my hands and Mama’s medication in the other. I set both down by the nightstand and then move on to prying the curtains apart.
Mama rubs her eyes, squinting at the pale morning light. “It’s Christmas? Oh, right. It is! I didn’t sleep through most of it, did I?”
“It’s a few minutes after nine. I woke you up so you can take your insulin and have some hot cocoa while we open presents.”
My vibrant energy doesn’t let up as I help her through the usual morning routine. Bathroom, medications, slipping on her robe and slippers.
“Morning, Blake!” Mama chirps when we emerge from the bedroom. If she suspects anything has started happening between the two of us, she doesn’t act like it.
Blake’s gaze slides over to mine before he looks back to Mama. It’s telepathic words we share as he picks up on how to behave. “Morning, Sunny. Hope you’re hungry. I’m making omelets.”
“A man who knows his way around the kitchen. How haven’t you been snatched up yet?”
I rub the back of my neck and feel the hot flush prickling over my skin. Thankfully, Blake manages to swoop in with his natural charm.
“Because I’ve been waiting on you, Sunny.”
Mama giggles, sneaking me a glance. “Boy, you couldn’t handle me. But I’ve got a beautiful daughter that’s single.”
“Mama…” I groan.
We move on from breakfast to unwrapping the few presents we’ve accumulated. I gifted Mama and Blake what I could afford—a spa bath set for Mama and new riding gloves for Blake. Both are as grateful as if I’d given them a big ticket item.
Blake got Mama a coffee mug that says Hot Mama in sparkly gold letters. She gets a kick out of it, boasting about how she’ll use it every time she has coffee and tea from now on. He turns to me and hands me an envelope.
My brows bunch together, a half frown on my face. I can feel jiggling inside the envelope as I carefully tear it open and then gasp at what falls out.
Keys.
With a tag that says 308.
I look up at Blake to find a satisfied gleam in his eyes. It takes another second for me to be able to form the words.
“You… you got me the apartment at Sunset View?”
“For you and Sunny,” he says. “You move in on the first.”
My head shakes left to right. “I can’t take this. Are you kidding? Blake, it’s too much?—”
“Too late. You already signed the lease,” he answers. Then he grins at the slow, shocked blink I give him. “The MC might’ve worked out a deal for you. We tend to get our way in negotiations. Your rent’s only nine hundred, including utilities. More than enough for you to afford on your salary from the shop. First and last are already paid. And don’t worry—it’s all in your name.”
Emotion floods me. It erupts out of me in a breathless sound that’s half cry and half gasp. I fling my arms around Blake in a crushing hug. He holds me and lets me sputter out all the garbled thank yous and I can’t believe yous that fall past my lips over and over again.
“Well, ain’t that something!” Mama cries with a clap of her hands. “That’s what I call a Merry Christmas!”
For the rest of the day, we don’t hold back celebrating the holiday. Blake lets us blast Christmas music. I take up camp in the kitchen and start on making us one of my most special holiday dinners—baked ham with glazed brown sugar, homemade mac he waits in the living room as I throw together my best attempt at a party look. Most of my clothes are plain and modest to the point of befitting a woman twice my age.
Ken didn’t like me showing off too much leg or chest… or much of anything else.
The best I find is a turquoise blouse and a pair of jeans I pair with boots. The final touch is a swipe of lipstick.
I hug Mama goodbye. “Call me the second you need me. Or press your alert button. I’ll be here in minutes.”
“Baby, if you don’t get going, I’m kicking you out myself!”
Blake whistles when he sees me. Warmth blankets over me remembering that we’ll be spending plenty of time alone tonight.
* * *
The Steel Saloon happens to be the most festive place in town on Christmas night.
Blake turns off the ignition and glances over at me. “Hear Ozzie screaming Jingle Bells?”
My lips quirk with the same humor. “Someone has got to make him realize he sounds like a toad drowning.”
“Let’s just hope he doesn’t go streaking butt-naked in the snow.”
Cheers ring around the bar room when we walk through the door. We’re two of the only sober people in the saloon. Most of the guys have been celebrating for hours with beer steins clutched in their hands and a pink tint to their cheeks. A few even wear Santa hats perched on their heads.
Our first stop is a couple we’ve slowly started pairing off with.
Mason and Sydney are lost in each other. They’re standing in the open space of the bar room almost as if they’re dancing. Except Mason doesn’t dance. The few others surrounding them do their own version of dancing while Sydney sways her hips and gyrates against Mason.
He’s enjoying her moves. His arms wrap around her and pull her up against him. It takes them both a second to notice Blake and I walking up.
“You came!” Sydney cries out with an excited smile. “Merry Christmas!”
“Kori needed a night out,” Blake says.
“Well, enjoy yourselves. I know I am.” Mason draws Sydney even closer, going in for a deep kiss.
Blake and I share a glance before the next song starts up. Our hands clasp together and within seconds, we’re laughing and doing our own version of a dance. I’m not the best on the dance floor and neither is Blake, but we have our fun—neither of us give a damn who’s watching.
Something that’s always been what sets us apart from others.
By the time we’ve danced through a third song, Blake slides an arm around my shoulders and steers us toward the bar counter for drinks.
It’s my first real moment to admire the Steel Saloon for what it is.
The biker bar might overwhelm outsiders when visiting, but I’ve always found the saloon inviting in its own way. The bar’s practically a relic in time with its bikini beer model posters and cracked leather seating. The floor’s a little sticky and there’s never any natural light. Just the neon beer signs that flash from every corner of the bar. All things that make the Steel Saloon what it is.
In the ten years I’ve been gone, it hasn’t changed much. A fact that I find a little comforting.
Blake and I slide onto side-by-side stools. Mick looks like an ancient relic with his bushy white brows and shrinking stature. His jaw drops open at the sight of us.
“If it isn’t Pulsboro’s most infamous duo—Blake Cash and Korine McKibbens,” he says with a hint of pride. “I never thought I’d see the day again.”
My lips curl, almost channeling my inner embarrassed teenager. “You’ve seen me plenty of times at the Chop Shop in recent weeks.”
“I have. But that’s different. This,” he says, gesturing to the two of us, “is like old times. ’Cept now you two are all grown up.”
Blake and I share in a glance at each other. “Mick, are you trying to make things awkward?”
“Would fit with being teenagers, wouldn’t it?” he cackles. He slings his used dish rag over his shoulder and winks at both of us. “Tell you what? I’ll fix you the oldie but goodie—two Dr Peppers coming right up.”
I shift in my stool for an amused look at him. He catches on without me having to even utter a word and shakes his head side to side like he’s letting me know he gets it.
“Mick’s never changing. If I’d known he’d make us feel like we’re fifteen again, I might’ve thought twice about tonight’s party.”
“It’s okay. I kind of like the reminder. It’s fun to think back.” I flash him a smile in earnest that feels like a mistake the moment he casts me a sideways look, and in typical Blake Cash fashion, his deep blue eyes gleam.
Hypnotizing and playful just like they’ve always been.
The nerves living in my belly at any given time flutter away. A reaction I should be used to by now after spending half my life as the best friend of the town’s unofficial heartthrob. Instead, I’m powerless to stop the fluttering.
I can’t squash any of the reactions Blake draws out of me—not the racing heartbeat or the stupid little smile my lips spread into when meeting his eyes.
Not the heat that fires up inside me and then burns on the outside, flushing onto my brown skin ’til I’m worried my melanin has finally stopped protecting me. That it’s blazing to the surface in a hue of golden warmth.
Blake knows me so well, he can take one look at me and notice how flustered I become around him.
The recent moments we’ve shared haven’t helped. From naked dreams to stolen kisses, we’ve been dancing around each other for days now.
Most women would’ve dropped their panties for him already (as Mama calls it). They would be riding the Blake Cash freight train all the way to orgasm town if they had a man as handsome and dedicated and caring as he is.
Separated, soon-to-be-divorced, I should be too. I should be enjoying every perk my newfound freedom affords me.
Yet, the idea of hopping into bed with Blake… terrifies me.
It’s not that I don’t trust him. I trust him more than any other living, breathing person on the planet. Not only would he make me feel safe, but he’d make it his duty to ensure I feel good.
So fucking good.
At age seventeen, Blake had me seizing up in pleasure. More than Ken ever came close to accomplishing. What would Blake do to me as an experienced 28-year-old man?
I shudder at the thought.
I just need to… let go. Stop overthinking. Stop living in my insecurities.
Remind myself it wouldn’t have to be some heavy, traumatizing experience like it often was with Ken. With Blake it would be… actually pleasurable.
“Did you hear me, Kori?” Blake asks.
I double blink out of my thoughts and hum in answer. “Hmmm?”
“I’m gonna go put a different song on the jukebox. Something Ozzie doesn’t know the words to. Need anything?”
I wave him off with a reassuring nod I’ll be okay. Not a second later, Mick returns with our Dr Peppers. I take one look at the soda he’s poured into glasses with ice cubes and then beckon him closer.
“Can you add a shot—or two—of whiskey to this?”
Mick raises his left bushy brow. “So you’re trying to have a real good night tonight, eh, sweets?”
I laugh. “I need something to loosen me up.”
“If this isn’t a reminder you’re all grown up now.” He takes back my glass of Dr Pepper and browses the wall of liquor bottles.
“Korine McKibbens. How long’s it been?”
I recognize the voice immediately. Silver’s snagged the stool Blake was once in.
Otherwise known as the Vice President of the Steel Kings, Jeffrey “Silver” Kingman has always been to Tom Cutler what Blake is to Mace. His righthand man that commands respect in the MC. In high school, I had a small crush on Silver in a silly girlish sort of way; something easy to develop when he was striding around with his shock of silver hair and piercing, dark eyes. He had enough of an edge to feel exciting without crossing into felon territory.
Just like Blake.
In more recent times, from what I’ve been told, Silver’s been MIA as he dealt with a nasty divorce and custody battle. During that time, Mace has been acting Prez while Tom Cutler’s been in prison.
I welcome him with rounded eyes and a surprise hum of my throat. “I thought you were on a leave of absence?”
His shoulders, molded by muscle even at his late-forties age, give a shrug. “I had some things to take care of. That happens when your prescription-pill-addicted wife up and takes your kids one day without telling you.”
“That sounds… rough.”
“No rougher than what I’ve heard you’ve got going on,” he says, reaching out to clamp a hand to my shoulder like the father figure he is for the club. His brow creases with concern. “Do you have a handle on things, or am I going to have to get involved?”
“I appreciate the concern. But I think… I’m finally starting to be okay.”
“You and Cash have been reconnecting from what I hear.”
The insinuation gleams in his dark eyes. My skin flushes against my wishes. I swallow another mouthful of my whiskey and Dr Pepper in an attempt at distraction. “We have. Blake’s been… amazing. Not that it’s a surprise.”
“You might not see it. But Cash’s made how he feels clear.”
I’m on the cusp of asking him to explain when he gestures to something beyond my shoulder.
“You better go interrupt,” he says. “Cash looks like he could use a lifeline.”
I follow his gesture, peeking over my shoulder to find Blake still at the jukebox. He’s in the middle of a conversation with a woman whose wild chocolate brown mane falls down her back. Her face tinges redder the longer they talk. Tears well up as a warning she’s about to cry.
I slide off the bar stool clutching my whiskey and Dr Pepper and wander over. I’ve never seen the girl a day in my life, and it shouldn’t bother me to see him speaking with her, but a kernel of jealousy flares up inside me anyway.
Keeping my expression neutral, I approach at a slow pace, secretly hoping their conversation ends on its own. The closer I get, bits and pieces of their dialogue starts to reach me.
“So that’s it? It’s over? Just like that? No notice?!” the woman demands in a distraught voice. “I’ve tried to get over you. I’ve been seeing somebody new… but you’re the one I really want.”
“Janessa, there was never anything between us. It was always casual.”
Her first tear slips free, sloping down the curve of her cheek. “I should’ve known you didn’t give a damn about me. I’ve heard how you throw women away like trash when you’re done.”
“You told me to leave!” Blake snaps, rubbing a frustrated hand over his brow. “Are you forgetting that part or is this some game you’re playing?”
“You’re an ass, Blake Cash! You know what you did. Saying another woman’s name in bed with me!”
“I’m sorry, alright? But, Janessa, there wasn’t shit between us—anything you think there was is a figment of your imagination,” Blake says, his tone unapologetic. “I’ve got feelings for somebody else. You’re not even in the picture.”
Janessa’s chin quivers as more emotion pours out of her, then she notices me standing only a few feet away. Her expression contorts from heartbreak to naked scorn. She grits her teeth and points me out. “Is this the girl? Is this the Korine whose name you were moaning?”
My mouth falls open in shock. I wasn’t expecting the woman to call me out. Blake immediately cuts in. The hold on his temper evaporates as he thrusts a finger at the saloon door.
“You need to go. I’m not putting up with your trouble tonight and I damn sure won’t stand for you disrespecting Kori.”
The brunette seems to consider otherwise for the briefest second before she gives up and listens. With a scathing, teary-eyed glare in my direction, she spins on her heel and rushes for the exit.
Blake spends a moment watching her leave as if he’s stalling for time. For what to say to explain what just happened. As he turns around and opens his mouth to begin, I wave it off, feeling silly for my small fit of jealousy.
“You don’t need to explain,” I say. “You’ve always had women throwing themselves at you. And you’re single. Nobody can blame you for taking advantage of that.”
“Kori—”
“Do what you need to do, Blake. If you ever want to bring a girl home and me and Mama are cramping your style?—”
“ Korine ,” he growls in interruption. He takes a step closer, encroaching my space, dwarfing me that easily with his height and stature. He grips me by the elbow and holds me so firmly I have no choice but to look up into his serious, jaw-clenched, handsome face. His eyes darken into sapphire stones I can’t blink away from. “I don’t want another fucking girl—what’s so hard about that to understand? You’re the girl. My girl. The only one I fucking want to come home to.”
It’s either the whiskey’s slow-rolling effects or my heart finally winning the war, because I can only take in a small breath and feel the skip of my heartbeat. I peer up at him with a part of my lips, very much aware of where the moment’s leading.
Very much wanting it to go on. Never wanting it to end.
His gaze dips to my mouth and his grip tightens on my elbow and time becomes even more relative than it already is. The entire Steel Saloon slows to a crawling pace as Blake draws me toward him and I tilt my face up to meet him halfway. His lips seal over mine in a kiss that knocks the remainder of my walls asunder.
They come crashing down in a deafening echo inside my chest where they’ve previously guarded my heart, and inside my head where they protected me against making foolish decisions like kissing my best friend in the middle of a crowded bar room after getting tipsy off whiskey.
After Ken, I should be running for the hills at the prospect of another man in my life.
Yet, as Blake kisses me like he’s addicted to my lips, I discover the only thing I want to do is give into him. I want to be selfish and reckless and indulge for once.
Just this once.
Just for tonight.
I lash my tongue with his and earn a deep rumble out of him that in turn makes me shudder. He’s slid my drink out of my hands and set it down somewhere only to wrench me even closer, tighter within his possessive arms that lock around me. It’s a hold that communicates he’s never letting me go.
Everything about the kiss declares this—the lusty pulse that starts up in my veins. The greedy wet flick of his tongue, and the way his mouth torments mine. Right down to the spicy sweet taste we share in that only makes us kiss harder.
So urgently you’d think we were running out of time.
We’re standing in the middle of the Steel Saloon without a fuck to give as we lose all restraint. The built-up tension shatters between us and makes way for unfiltered passion that engulfs us in its heat the longer we indulge.
Warmth floods me. Both on the outside and inside as I feel drunker and braver than I’ve felt in years. I clutch at Blake’s v-neck t-shirt and playfully bite at his bottom lip.
“Take me somewhere,” I puff out. I drag my mouth along the chiseled lines of his jaw and then press my nose into his throat where the intoxicating masculine musk that is Blake Cash and Blake Cash only swarms my senses even more.
As if I weren’t drunk enough already.
Blake seems to feel the same. He squeezes my hip and eyes me like he’s deciding which part of me to consume first. Taking my hand, he leads us toward the back of the bar. “C’mon. I’ve got an idea.”