Chapter 2
Chapter 2
Knox
The room was thick with smoke and the sharp scent of grease and booze as the boys of the Royal Bastards MC here in Knoxville, Tennessee, my crew, gathered around the battered oak table that served as our altar in these weekly sermons we called church. As usual, I was parked at the head of the table, my chair slightly tilted back, a lit joint dangling from my fingers. But my mind? Hell, it was miles away, tangled up in thoughts of that curvy teacher.
Her laugh, that damn infectious laugh that seemed to echo around my skull, and the way her eyes lit up behind those glasses when she laughed… Damn, it was like a track on repeat in my head. Women around the clubhouse were rarely that happy, never laughing. Their painted lips were too busy sucking off a biker or bitching someone out. Imagining Eliza’s lips opening for me made my pants get too tight.
“Knox! You with us or what?” Rocky, my second in command’s gruff voice cut through my daydream like a sawed-off shotgun blast. He was staring at me from across the table, his blue eyes narrowed under that mess of unruly light hair and bushy eyebrows. Fella got his name because he flew tourists in a helicopter over the Smokies for a livin’. Not the only thing he flew, being a pilot. Biker also flew off the handle quite a bit.
“Shit, man, where’s your head at today?” TNT chimed in, his sleeved arms crossed over his vast chest, a sneer on lips. My Sergeant at Arms had another nickname at one time. Dynomite, givin’ to him by his mama. She said he looked like Jimmy Walker from that old show, “Good Times” since he was so tall and skinny. I’d never seen it, so didn’t know if the resemblance was true. However, Dynomite despised the name, so he bulked up and brother became TNT.
I snapped back, straightening up in my chair, flicking ash. “Just thinking about club business, Dynomite. What’s the next item, boys?” I tried to sound all in, but my voice probably carried that edge of distraction.
Rocky wasn’t buying it, his leer telling me he smelled bullshit a mile off. “Club business, huh? Looked more like you were dreamin’ of some piece of ass. That’s not like our Prez. Don’t tell me, Knox the fox is getting soft on us, chasing after tail?”
A few chuckles rippled around the table, the sound like gravel being kicked down a lonely street. I shook my head, forcing a grunt. I hated when Rocky called me my once full road name. Yeah, I was cunning and all, but I dropped the Fox part when I became Prez. “Ain’t nothing like that. Just weighing our options on the new territory disputes up north.”
“Bullshit,” Smokey piped up, always the one to call it like it is, his voice rough as sandpaper. Being near the Smokies had nothing to do with his name. Brother was a firefighter, always telling us how to not burn this damn place down, makin’ us follow the fire code and shit. Therefore, we called him Smokey, after Smokey the bear. “You’ve been off ever since you treated that teacher like she was in a wet t-shirt contest. I saw you droolin’. What’s she got, Knox? Magic pussy?”
The table erupted in laughter, the sound booming in the closed space. I kept my cool, a mask of indifference plastered over any sign that they might be hitting closer to home than I cared to admit.
“All right, enough yapping,” I grumbled, stubbing out my blunt and standing up. “Meeting’s dismissed. Handle your jobs and report back next week. And keep your noses out of my damn personal life.”
As the room cleared, the echoes of their laughter hanging like a taunt, I couldn’t help but wonder if letting Eliza get so deep under my skin was a smart play. She was different, a world apart from the chaos of the MC life. But damn if she ain’t become a distraction, I wasn’t sure I could afford, nor wanted to give up.
Ever since that day at the charity wash, not a moment’s passed without my thoughts driftin’ back to that curvy teacher. The clubhouse’s been alive with the usual ruckus—tinkering on bikes, breaking in the new blood, and all the daily grind of club business. But through all that racket, it’s my memory of her smile that slices through like a damn lighthouse in foggy waters. I catch myself daydreaming ‘bout the lines of her body during important discussions, her laughter echoing louder in my ears than all our engines firing up.
I’ve seen plenty of women stroll through the clubhouse doors. They dip into our world, some chasing the thrill, others looking for a bit of shelter from their storms. We get all types, the good, the bad and the ugly. But none of ‘em have ever stuck to me like Eliza. She’s got this depth, a kind of fierce doing-it-herself way about her, mixed with a warmth that’d make the summer sun jealous. And shit, those curves of hers? They didn’t just snag my gaze—they damn near took over my mind. Her dress, all soaked and clinging to her like a second skin that day, it stamped itself on my brain, and no number of willin’ women could scrub it off.
Been weeks since I last saw her, weeks of handling club shit with my mind half out the door. The itch to see her again was eating at me something fierce. But I needed a good reason to catch up with her again, something that wouldn’t seem too eager or stepping out of line. I had no intention of scaring her off.
Then the chance came up—another charity gig at her school. They were looking for local outfits to chip in for their art program. Perfect. I could roll up, play it like I’m just there to support the community, check on how they were using the dough from our last event, and, most importantly, catch a glimpse of that hot teacher.
The deep growl of my Harley cut through the air, a dark note against the backdrop of kids’ laughter and playground noise. I parked a decent stretch away from the school doors, cut the engine, and took a second to gather myself. Today, I wasn’t just Knox, the Royal Bastards Prez. I was a man on a more personal mission.
As I swung off my Harley, I took a moment to straighten my cut, the leather vest creakin’ familiarly around my broad frame. I gave myself a once-over in the mirror-like shine of my bike’s chrome, adjustin’ the bandana that wrestled my wind-swept hair into submission.
My arms, a canvas of heavy ink, laid out the roadmap of my rough life. The tats runnin’ from my wrists and up under where my sleeves were rolled high. Celtic knots tapping into my heritage, intricate skulls nudged at the mortality we’re all sidesteppin’, crowns that spoke to the dominion I commanded in my biker life, and wolves symbolizin’ the fierce loyalty and pack mentality of my biker brotherhood were etched deep into my flesh.
The ink stories peeked out, bold and unapologetic. They weren’t just for show but declarations, symbols of strength and survival, each line etched in pain but worn with a badass pride. Signs of a life lived hard and held fast, a life I was about to bring knockin’ on Eliza’s door.
Stepping onto school grounds, my boots thuddin’ solid against the pavement, I scanned the sea of folks, huntin’ for that familiar head of brown hair, my heart thumpin’ like a wild thing within me. It’d been a damn long time since anything got my pulse racin’ this way, both thrillin’ and kinda puttin’ me on edge.
I zigzagged through the crowd of teachers and parents, tryin’ to blend in best as a biker can, nearly impossible, when my eyes finally caught sight of Eliza, glasses and all. She was chattin’ up a storm with some parents, all animated and lively, when all hell broke loose over by another booth. A couple of parents were going at it, their voices climbin’ over some mix-up about a piece of donated art. The fuss was ratchetin’ up fast, pulling in a small crowd.
Shit, not exactly the backdrop I had in mind for a reunion, but then, when did life ever play out neat and tidy?
Eliza separated herself from the chatterin’ crowd and walked over to the fussin’ pair with a calmness that seemed to just roll off her in waves. I was itchin’ to step in, maybe throw my weight around to shut down the ruckus, but somethin’ made me hold back. I wanted to see how Eliza would handle this mess.
“Let’s just take a minute here, y’all,” I heard her say, her voice steady but soothing, cuttin’ right through the noise. She gave each of ‘em her full attention, nodding slow and intentional like. Bit by bit, you could see the tension drainin’ out of ‘em as Eliza worked her magic, her words smoothin’ the rough edges right off their spat. Wasn’t long ‘fore she had ‘em shakin’ hands like old pals. Conflict snuffed out with a few calm words and that killer smile of hers.
Damn, she was impressive. The way she took control, not just with grace but with an authority that came to her as easy as breathin’, only piled more respect onto what I already felt for her. My curiosity about who Eliza really was, beyond that firestorm of a first meetin’, only deepened.
After the crowd thinned out, I strolled up to her, giving a little clap. “Looks like you run a tight ship around here,” I said, keepin’ it light.
Eliza spun around, her surprise at seeing me quickly shapin’ into a cautious smile. “Knox, what brings you here?” she asked, eyes flickin’ with curiosity and a bit of wariness.
“Just checkin’ in on how the school’s makin’ use out of our last wash funds. And thought maybe I could steal you away for that coffee I owe you?” I threw out, hopeful.
She paused, her eyes dartin’ back to where the argument had just cooled down, then back at me. Despite her strong outward appearance, I observed the strain in her gaze, the frown pullin’ at the corners of her mouth. “I guess a coffee break wouldn’t hurt,” she finally said, though there was a touch of hesitance in her voice.
We found ourselves a quiet little café just down the street. While we made ourselves comfortable in the worn leather seats, the sound of the espresso machine hissing in the background, I couldn’t help but crack a smile at Eliza’s skeptical look.
“So, you’re a second-grade teacher?” I started.
“You’re a biker president?” She asked, her face scrunched as she blew on her fancy drink.
“You’re probably wonderin’ what in hell we got in common.” I took a drink of my plain black coffee and burnt my mouth.
Eliza took a sip of hers, her eyebrows raised. “Exactly. I mean, your day-to-day must be a little different from mine.”
Enjoying the challenge, I leaned back. “Different, maybe. But you’d be surprised. See, both of us are in the business of wrangling wild beasts. Yours might be a tad smaller, though.”
Shaking her head, she laughed a little. The sound was music to my ears. “Wild beasts? Really, Knox? Are you comparing my second graders to your biker crew?”
“Absolutely,” I said with a grin, wanting to get her to smile as big and bright as she had when we met. “Think about it. You gotta keep your kids in line, teach ‘em some discipline, right? Well, it’s the same with my club. There’s teachin’ involved too. Gotta keep the brothers in check, make sure they follow the club’s code, respect the hierarchy. It’s like herdin’ cats, but you know, bigger, scarier cats with tattoos and less fear of detention.”
Eliza chuckled, the sound light, easy. “Okay, I see your point. But I bet your ‘students’ aren’t drawing you cute pictures or giving you hugs.”
“You’d be surprised,” I retorted. “Some of these tough guys get all sentimental on me. No drawings, though. Usually, it’s just spare bike parts or a new beer they found. And as for hugs, let’s just say we keep it to brotherly fist bumps and back slaps. Safety first, you know. Except for my brother Smokey. He gives bear hugs.”
She was trying to hold back a full smile now, her eyes twinkling with amusement. “And what about field trips? I take my kids to the zoo. Where do you take your crew?”
“Road trips, mostly,” I replied. “Imagine it as a zoo visit, but instead of lookin’ at animals, we are the animals, riding out in the wild. Wind in our faces, nothing but the road ahead. It’s all about freedom, teaching them to respect the ride and each other. Ain’t that different from your zoo trips, just… faster, with more horsepower.”
Eliza laughed openly now, her initial reserve melting away. Her smile took over all her features, her cheeks high, her eyes dancin’. “I never thought I’d find common ground with an outlaw biker over coffee.”
Leaning closer, I lowered my voice playfully. “Just getting started, darlin’. Give me a few more cups of coffee, and I might just convince you we’re practically in the same profession.”
Eliza giggled, the warm sound filling the space between us. “I’ll take you up on that challenge, Knox. But I should warn you, I’m not easily convinced.”
I grinned in response, the banter between us feeling surprisingly easy and natural. We were cheesin’ it up like lovesick teens. “I like a challenge,” I said, swirling the remnants of my coffee in the cup. “But enough about work. How about we talk about something else? Tell me about your wildest fantasy.”
Turning bright red, Eliza fiddled with her glasses while looking around to see if anyone heard me.
“I’ll tell you mine,” I said. “I’ve been imagining you in those glasses and nothing more, holding a paddle. See, I was always in a lot of trouble at school.”
Eliza’s cheeks flushed a deep crimson, her eyes wide with shock at my boldness. She stuttered a bit, trying to regain her composure, but the image I painted seemed to have frozen her in place. I could see the wheels turning in her head, no doubt contemplatin’ whether or not to entertain this unexpected turn in our conversation.
After a moment of silence that seemed to stretch on forever, Eliza finally cleared her throat and fixed me with a level gaze. “Knox, I think we may have skipped a few steps in our getting acquainted process,” she said, a hint of amusement tugging at the corners of her lips.
Feigning innocence, I shrugged casually. “Ain’t sharing our deepest desires a surefire way to really get to know each other?” I raised an eyebrow in a playful challenge.
Eliza chuckled softly, shaking her head in disbelief.
Her laughter was the sweetest sound I’d heard in a long time. As we sat there, I couldn’t resist letting my eyes wander over her, takin’ in every detail that I’d been obsessin’ over for weeks. She caught my look, her cheeks flushin’ up somethin’ beautiful again.
She had this way of leaning forward when she laughed, giving me a hell of a view of her generous cleavage that spilled from her blouse like an invitation to sin. The way her large breasts gave way to her long locks of soft hair that framed her smile just added to her whole glow. I found myself appreciating the way everything about her was just more. More smiles, more curves, more to hold on to, more woman who I could have straddlin’ my lap tonight if I was lucky.
I imagined getting my hands on those thighs—thick and shapely, stretching her jeans in all the right ways, hintin’ to strength and softness in equal measure underneath. She had the kind of legs that could easily wrap a man up in thoughts he might confess only after a few drinks. Not to mention, she filled out her seat like it was made to cradle her generous hips, her body an ode to all things voluptuous.
The more I watched her talk and laugh, the more I discovered myself drawn to every part of her, from her lively eyes to the abundant, plush comfort of her form. Eliza wasn’t just attractive. She was a full-on feast for the eyes, and every crude thought that crossed my mind was a testament to how much I appreciated the ample beauty sitting before me. I could devour her whole and still want more.
“So, Knox, what’s the real reason you’re here?” she asked, breakin’ me from my naughty thoughts.
“Ain’t a man allowed to enjoy the view… some good company?” I shot back, tryin’ not to drool.
Her laughter filled the space between us. Not just easy, genuine as ever. “Maybe. But I reckon there’s more to it, huh?”
“When I see something I want, I go for it,” I said in my no nonsense tone.
Eliza looked confused, more than flustered. It was as if she wasn’t used to this kind of talk. That only made me want to do more of it, however, I didn’t want to frighten her off. I switched gears and the remainder of our chat was easy.
But when I offered her a ride back on my bike, she declined with a smile that was polite yet firm. Nevertheless, underneath, I could see her struggle. “I think I’ll walk,” she said as she got up to leave.
Not one to give up easy, I followed her out, leanin’ in close, hopin’ for a kiss goodbye. She turned her cheek. My lips landin’ there instead of where I’d hoped.
“Easy there, biker boy,” she teased.
“How about your number?” I asked.
“You can give me yours,” she said, ready to type it into her phone. After I spouted off my digits, she sauntered off with a shake that nearly knocked the wind outta me.
Frustrated but more hooked than ever, I watched her walk away. Her gentle refusal and that almost-kiss just threw more fuel on the fire. Eliza was a challenge alright, one I was dead set on winnin’. Her strength, her elegance, and that spark between us she was tryin’ so hard to ignore—it drew me in like a moth to a flame. And I was all in, come hell or high water.