Chapter 11
It was a short ride, and he was pulling into the parking lot five minutes later. I was a little disappointed when my boots hit the ground, but I didn’t say as much. I waited for Twister to dismount and then followed him inside.
The Chophouse was far from dead on a Monday night, but we were still seated almost right away.
Twister got his wish, and we were escorted to a table out on the patio, under a wide, red umbrella.
When we were left with our menus, he barely looked at his before he set it aside and leaned back casually in his chair.
I wondered how often he frequented the place.
I wondered, too, if what he said earlier was true—that he hadn’t been on a single date since he became a Stallion.
I wondered why me? Why now?
I wondered a lot of things, but I didn’t ask.
The last thing I wanted was those same questions aimed my way.
Our server came to the table, and Twister surprised me when he ordered a glass of water and then asked if I was ready with my dinner selection.
I seconded his request for water and opted for the filet. He ordered the ribeye, and then we were left to ourselves.
“Dropped by to see Lane yesterday,” Twister told me. “Tiny little tyke. You been back, yet?”
“Uh, no,” I stammered, caught off guard by the question as much as I was surprised he thought his visit was important enough to mention. “Are they—settling in?” I asked, not sure how else to respond.
“So far as I can tell,” he said with a shrug. “Mav’ll be home for another week. Jenna looked tired but happy. Seems par for the course.”
I nodded but didn’t offer much else. I’d had enough on my plate to all but forget the way I bolted out of the Daughtry residence at the mere thought of holding the precious babe.
I didn’t want to think about it now, either, which meant I didn’t want to talk about baby Lane or his tired but happy mother.
An awkward silence settled between Twister and me, and I dropped my focus down onto the table.
“Sparky?” he called gently.
My gaze shot up to meet his before I could think better of it.
He smiled, having bested me again, and I narrowed eyes at him.
Leaning forward, he propped himself against his forearms on the table as he went on to say, “Baby, we’re on a date. I told you somethin’—now it’s your turn. It’s called a conversation.”
I rolled my eyes then held up my right hand so he could see it when I flipped him off. His smile turned into a grin as he chuckled.
“I know how to be on a date. I sure as hell don’t need lessons from you .”
“Alright. So—talk to me. Tell me somethin’.”
I stared at him for a moment as I thought back over the last thirty-six hours. There wasn’t much to tell, which was how I ended up admitting, “Georgia called.”
I watched as his smile fell and the warmth in his eyes was all but snuffed out.
Maybe I needed a lesson in appropriate date conversation, after all.
“Not exactly the topic I had in mind, but I’ll bite,” he replied.
“She told me what happened.”
“Fucker got less than he deserved,” Twister said cooly.
I didn’t disagree, so I merely nodded slowly in response.
“Her, too, if you ask me.”
I didn’t know why, but I felt compelled to tell him the truth; to absolve my mother of a measure of guilt. Or maybe I wanted Twister to know he hadn’t done wrong by letting her off the hook. Regardless of the reason, I admitted, “She—she doesn’t know.”
Twister’s brow furrowed with a scowl at the same time our server returned with our water and a basket full of warm bread rolls. I looked up at him, murmuring a pathetic thank you, then shifted my gaze back onto Twister as we were left alone.
He was still staring straight at me.
“You never told her?” he asked, his voice more surprised than judgmental.
I reached for a dinner roll and immediately began picking it into pieces.
“I never told anyone. Not until…you.”
Even as silence began to envelope us, I didn’t bother to look up. I couldn’t. I hadn’t meant to steer us into such deep waters. I hoped my obvious attempt at avoidance would be his hint to move on to the next topic.
Instead, he reached across the table and grabbed hold of one of my wrists. His hand was warm, his fingers unyielding, but his grip was gentle. He squeezed me once, and I dropped the bread before peeking over at him from beneath my lashes.
His brown eyes, shrouded by his thick eyebrows still furrowed in obvious concern, were not warm or the slightest bit amused—the way I preferred. There was an intensity in his gaze that made me want to squirm. I wondered how many of my secrets he could see as he stared right through me.
“You grew up in Colorado? With just the two of them?”
“Yeah.”
“But he’s not the reason for your knife.”
It was a statement wrapped around a question—a question I had no intention of answering. When I yanked at my wrist, silently insisting he let me go, he lifted his hand in a show of surrender.
Being the smart man he was, he then shifted tactics in order to keep me talking.
“How’d you find your way to Gillette?”
“Moved to Cheyenne when I was twenty-four. Got a job at a bar down there. Learned the ropes. Met a few Stallions. When they told me about Steel Mustang opening up, I thought I’d shoot my shot.
” Before he could ask a follow up question, I posed one of my own.
“What about you? How’d you find your way to the Stallions? ”
He sat back in his chair, relaxing a bit as he replied, “Pops and I never really got along. Appreciate the hell out of him. Taught me how to work hard and how to lead. My mom always said we were too much alike. Maybe that’s true.
All I know is when I turned eighteen, I got the hell outta dodge.
He always said I’d come crawlin’ back, so I made it my mission to prove him wrong.
“Bastard shouldn’t have taught me the ins and outs of a motor, or maybe he’d of been right.
Found my way to a garage and got myself a job doin’ the only thing I could think to do.
Met my first Stallion at the gym. We hit it off.
He told me about Stallion Motors, I switched shops, and the rest—well, you know what they say. ”
Quirking an eyebrow at him, I replied, “That’s a hell of a lot of history you skipped over. Vice President? Store manager at Horsepower Auto-Supply? What, you just climbed that ladder?”
Before he got a chance to respond, our server arrived with our dinner. After he was sure we had everything we needed, he left us to our meal, and I refocused my attention across the table.
Twister must have felt my gaze. Without looking up from his steak, he sliced a bite and said, “When I first started at the shop, there was no auto-parts store. Soon as it opened, I volunteered to make the switch. Worked my way to the top—good ole fashioned way.”
He took a bite, so I did, too.
I finished first and asked, “And second in command? Did you chase that, too?”
His eyes on me, he shook his head, swallowed, and said, “Won’t lie and say it held no appeal, but that was all luck.”
I furrowed my brow skeptically. “Bull doesn’t strike me as the gambling type.”
“You got that right. But I wasn’t his first choice. If not for Mary-Kate, patch on my chest would have been on Mustang’s kutte.”
“Oh,” I murmured.
I didn’t know the details of Mustang’s story any better than he knew mine—but even from behind the bar, I could tell he and Bull were close.
Mustang regarded him with dignified respect.
Everyone did, really. Bull had a way about him that demanded it.
But with Mustang, there was a level of admiration easily detected.
From what I could tell, it was different than the relationship between Twister and Bull.
Except, I wouldn’t have guessed Twister was his second choice.
Twister speared his next bite with his fork, then paused as he looked at me and said, “Might have been his backup plan, but it was still a hell of honor to get that tap on the shoulder. I ride with brothers who’ve been with the club longer—Mustang included.
When Bull became top dog, the club was in a bad way.
Would have been just before you got here.
Fact that he trusted me to be his right hand as we cleaned up our act, it meant the world. Still does.”
I thought back to Saturday night. I pictured Bull and Twister walking into the bar.
I didn’t know then what I knew now—the way they chased Georgia and Tommy out of town.
That night, Twister took it upon himself to rid me of a problem.
He called upon his president to help, and he’d done it.
No questions asked. They were brothers. They were partners. They were loyal.
It wasn’t the first time a Stallion had done me a not so little favor; but it was the first time it came with no expectations. I harbored not a shred of anticipation that Bull would speak of the favor.
Even now, as I sat across from Twister, it wasn’t out of obligation. He hadn’t demanded anything from me other than my admission that I wanted him, too.
“How’s your filet?” he asked me, jerking his chin toward my plate.
I sucked in a breath as I sat up straighter in my chair. Shaking my head clear, I glanced down at my dinner and shrugged. If I was honest, I’d barely tasted it, too wrapped up in our exchange.
“Good, I guess.” I nodded toward his plate. “How’s your ribeye?”
He flashed a crooked smile as he held up his next bite. “That good organic shit.”
I laughed, and the moment felt light again.
“Soon as we’re done, we’ll go for a ride. This night’s too perfect to be anywhere other than on the back of a hog.”
Excited for the chance to feel the wind in my hair, I went after my next bite.