Chapter Nine
Leaning his office chair back against the wall, Throttle looked at Rags and asked, “Who was the chick you were cozying up to at Blue’s Belly the other night?” A smile tugged at his lips.
Riffling through the file drawer, Rags glanced over his shoulder. “No one, really.”
“Looked like someone to me.”
“Well, it wasn’t. You know where that invoice is for the Roberson job?”
“It should be in the file.” Throttle clasped his hands behind his head. “You know something?”
Rags turned. “What?”
“The chick from the other night looked a lot like the one filling in for Owen.”
Rags’s jaw tightened. “Owen?”
“Yeah, you know, the guy who owns the nursery. The one you were flipped out about ’cause he was outta town.”
“Oh, yeah. I forgot about that.” Rags shrugged. “I don’t remember what she looked like.”
Throttle laughed. “You’re such a bullshitter.”
Rags narrowed his eyes. “No. I’m not. Anyway, how would you know what she looks like?”
“The next morning I went by the nursery to grab a watering can Kimber wanted, and I admit I was surprised to see the chick from Blue’s you were making moves on.
Then I remember how pissed you were after you went to the nursey that day.
You were going on about some woman.” He shook his head. “I knew she got to you.”
“No chick gets to me, okay? Are we gonna talk about this high school shit all day or actually work?”
“Are you gonna see her again?”
“Who?”
“You know, bro.”
“Don’t plan on it.”
“I saw you follow her when she left. When you came back solo, I knew you struck out.”
“I was making sure she got back to her car okay. You’re making a big deal outta nothing, and it’s starting to piss me off.”
“I’ve been waiting a long time to get under your skin about a chick. Remember how you were when I was into Kimber? Payback is fuckin’ sweet.” Throttle grinned.
“I’m outta here. I have to settle up with John at the hardware store.” Rags ignored the laughs as he walked out of the office.
Throttle’s gonna run his damn mouth to the brothers about Casey. The thought of Tank, Diesel, Animal, and Puck giving him endless shit didn’t sit well. No way in hell did Throttle just happen to buy a watering can the morning after Blue’s Belly. Nosey SOB.
Rags swung a leg over his Harley and fired it up, the rumble drowning out his thoughts. He peeled out of the parking lot, the wind slicing through the tension.
As he rode toward downtown, he veered toward the Centerstage Theatre. Since he was close, he figured he’d see if Clara wanted to grab lunch. But when the building came into view, he eased off the throttle.
Who was he kidding? He wanted to see if Casey was around. Ever since that night at Blue’s, he couldn’t shake the memory of her soft tits pressed against him, her tongue twisting with his, the silky feel of her hair tangled around his fingers.
Then he remembered her pushing away, breath catching, dark eyes wide.
The chill that rolled between them had hit hard, but the heat didn’t die, it just twisted tighter inside him.
Even after she tore out of the lot, he’d stood there in the night, watching her disappear into the darkness, the ache for her still pounding through him.
He gunned the throttle, the Harley roaring beneath him as he made a sharp turn away from the theatre and headed toward the hardware store.
I don’t need this shit. Get a hold of yourself, dude.
He shook his head, scattering the images of Casey to the far corners of his mind, and cut right onto Ash Street.
He slid the bike into an open space, cutting off a compact car halfway into a parallel park. The driver’s window dropped fast.
“What the hell! You think you own the street, asshole?” the woman shouted. “You almost hit my car!”
Rags looked over his shoulder, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You should’ve moved faster,” he said.
He killed the engine, swung off the seat, and lifted his middle finger slow and deliberate before walking away.
The Harley ticked behind him as the metal cooled, her angry voice still chasing him.
Pedestrians moved aside, their eyes flicking to his cut then quickly away, careful not to meet his gaze.
By the time he reached the hardware store and pulled open the door, the woman’s shouting was swallowed by the jingle of the bell and a wash of cool, still air scented with oil and sawdust.
Rags took off his sunglasses, hooked them to the front of his T-shirt, and walked toward the counter.
John looked up from behind the register. “Hey, Rags, how’s it going?”
“Good,” he said. “How’s your old lady and kids?”
John laughed. “They’re all fine. My ‘old lady’ would kill me if she heard me calling her that.”
Rags smiled and pulled the folded receipt from his cut. “I need to settle the account with you before you send someone after me.”
John chuckled. “I wouldn’t dare. You guys are untouchable.”
Rags cracked a faint grin while pulling out a wallet and laying the cash on the counter.
“You expecting a good crowd at the festival this weekend?” John asked.
“Yep. You comin’ with your family?”
“We’ll be there. The wife’s been talking about it for days and the kids are bursting at the seams. I’m looking forward to checking out the custom bikes. Hawk was telling me about them the other day when he came in.”
“Hawk has customized a ton of bikes in the county. You gotta see his latest baby, it’s beyond wicked.”
“He wouldn’t show me a picture of it.” John laughed.
“That’s Hawk for you.”
John handed Rags a receipt for the payment. “I’ll see you this weekend.”
Rags gave him a chin lift then folded the paper, tucked it in his wallet, and headed for the door.
He stepped out of the hardware store and walked down the sidewalk, the Harley a few doors away, sunlight glinting off its chrome. As he neared the motorcycle, someone called his name.
He turned. His gut tightened when he saw her. Julie.
When Megan had told him she was back in town, he hadn’t given a damn. And why would he? He hadn’t seen Julie since he caught her fucking one of his friends thirteen years ago, but the image of that fateful day still burned clear as glass.
She looked good, though. Too good. Dark brown hair gleaming under the sunlight, and that purple sweater fit snugly against her rack in a way that made his chest tighten in spite of himself.
“Hi, Rags,” she said, walking toward him with that same easy sway that used to knock him sideways.
He gave a curt chin lift. “Julie.”
“You don’t act surprised to see me.”
“Megan told me you were back in town.”
Her smile dimmed. “Guess I shouldn’t be surprised you didn’t look me up.”
He let out a dry chuckle. “Why would I? There’s nothing between us. What we had died a long time ago.”
A flicker of something like regret, passed through her eyes. “So, you’ve never thought of me in all these years?”
“I’ve moved on,” he said, voice low.
She opened her mouth to say something, but he cut in. “How’s your mom? Megan told me she was sick. I didn’t know.”
Julie blinked, caught off-guard. “Not great. The treatments are rough, but she’s hanging in there.”
He nodded once, some of the edge leaving his voice. “She’s a good woman. Tell her I’m sorry she’s going through all this shit.”
“I will.” Julie smiled. “She always liked you.”
He gave a small nod and started toward his bike.
“Maybe we could grab a drink sometime,” she said quickly. “Or just coffee at Ruthie’s, maybe?”
Rags shook his head. “I don’t have time.”
“Rags—”
He swung his leg over the leather seat, cutting her off. “Take care of your mom, Julie.”
The engine roared to life, drowning out whatever she tried to say next. He pulled away from the curb and blended with the traffic without looking back.
Rags headed back to the office as her voice stayed with him, carrying on the wind long after he should’ve shaken it off.
He pulled into the parking lot and walked inside, grabbing a bottle of Coke from the cooler near the receptionist’s desk.
He twisted off the cap and poured the sweet liquid down his throat.
Seeing Julie had shaken him in a way that it shouldn’t have.
He’d settled all that crap years ago—or had he?
“It’s unseasonably warm today,” Molly said, her blue eyes sliding over her boss’s lean frame.
“Yeah.” He tossed the bottle in the recycle bin. “Throttle still here?”
Nodding, she smiled and leaned forward, tugging at the hem of her T-shirt to expose the tops of her breasts. “He’s in the back office.”
Rags pursed his lips. “Molly, you better watch what you’re doing or you’ll give a guy the wrong idea.”
Her eyes widened. “What do you mean?”
“You know. I don’t want you dealing with some asshole who takes it wrong.”
She smiled faintly. “What if I want to live a little like the women who hang out at your club?”
“Don’t even think it. If Throttle or I ever catch you there, we’ll toss your ass out fast. You’re a nice girl—stay that way.”
A frown creased her forehead. “You sound like my dad.”
“Smart man.” Rags smiled. “Now finish the orders I gave you this morning.”
Glumly, she swiveled her chair toward the computer. “They’ll be done in an hour.”
“That’s what I wanna hear.”
Rags walked down the hall and stepped into the back office. Throttle sat hunched over the computer, cussing under his breath.
“Hey,” Rags said, dropping into one of the leather chairs.
Throttle looked up. “Hey. Did you get us squared with John?”
“Yeah. What’s up?”
“Trying to figure out this damn software. It’s pissing me off.”
“Have Hawk show you. He knows this shit.”
“I wanna figure it out myself.” Throttle jabbed a key. The screen went black. “Fuck!” He shoved the chair back. “This blows.” He looked up, catching Rags’s expression. “What the hell’s wrong with you?”
“Molly’s wading into dark waters,” Rags said.
“She’s been like that since we hired her. She’s more show than action. She’d jump outta her skin if we invited her to a club party.” Throttle laughed. “Is that why you’re looking weird?”