Chapter 2 Calvin
CALVIN
The woman’s name is Grace and she’s twenty-four, which is all she’ll tell me about herself on the drive to the clubhouse.
She doesn’t want to go back to her fiancé or to her family and won’t tell me where she’s hitched from, although I’ve got a pretty good idea. There’s only one wedding venue in the direction that she was walking from, The Emerald Heart Resort.
She’s the second runaway bride they’ve had this season. There must be something in the air. Axel, the owner of the resort is a friend and it can’t be good for business.
I should drive her straight back and hand her over, but I respect her pleas to give her some time. Instead, I’m taking her to the one place I know she’ll be safe. The clubhouse.
“So, where were you headed before I picked you up?”
I glance in the rearview mirror in time to see her shrug.
The movement makes her breasts rise, and I divert my gaze back to the road before my mind wanders to where it shouldn’t, which is how she looks under the dress and what those magnificent breasts feel like, and what expression she’d make if I brushed my thumbs over her nipples and wiped that smirk off her face for good.
“I don’t know.”
I exhale slowly, clearing my head of inappropriate thoughts and suppressing my anger towards a woman who hitches down a mountain without a plan.
Walking out on your own wedding is madness enough, and while I’m curious as to her reasons why, they’re none of my business.
But hitching down my mountain is my business.
“Do you have someone I can take you to? A safe place to go?”
Since she refuses to go back to her fiancé and her family, I’ve been trying to get out of her where she was headed, but she’s tight-lipped on that too.
“You must have had a destination in mind when you…” I stop myself from saying ‘ditched your fiancé.’ I don’t want to bring up the wedding she obviously doesn’t want to talk about. “…left.”
“Nope.” She shakes her head. “I just left.”
Who does that? Who just leaves without knowing where they’re going?
“If I hadn’t picked you up, where would you have asked the next person to take you?”
She shrugs again. “Wherever they were going.”
I clench my jaw. Does she realize how foolish that would be? They could take her anywhere, take advantage of her. Even if they were genuine and not an asshole, she might have ended up further up the mountain with no shelter and no food and no damned shoes.
“I didn’t really think too much about it.”
“You think?” I mutter under my breath.
Maybe it’s because she’s ten years younger than me, but I was never this na?ve at twenty-four. Hell, I was doing my time in Iraq at her age.
There’s movement in the back seat, and I glance in the rearview mirror to find her leaning forward, her hands clasping the bars that separate the rear of the vehicle from the front. The smile is back on her face, and it’s both exasperating and beautiful all at once.
“Don’t you ever do anything spontaneous, sheriff?”
I reflect on the last six years of my life.
After leaving the military, I returned to the mountains.
Falling into the role of sheriff kept me sane, gave me a purpose, something concrete and certain to keep my mind from the dark places it wanted to go.
My days are unpredictable but never spontaneous.
“No,” I say too harshly. “Never.”
She sits back in her seat and looks out the window. A frown creases her forehead as we pull into the Wild Riders Motorcycle Club compound.
There’s a line of bikes parked out in front of the restaurant, but I go around to the back, past the workshop where Colter waves, a dirty rag in one hand.
Danni stands next to him with a baby on her hip, chatting to Trish while two small children sit at their feet playing a game with some spare parts from the workshop.
We drive past the large warehouse where steam from the brewing kettles escapes from the vents.
Grace wrinkles her nose at the stench of hops that fills the air.
“What is this place?”
She stares at the huge hairy man coming out of the brewery storehouse who gives me a grin and a wave. I wave back at Quentin, or Barrels as we call him, due to his size and the fact that he runs the brewery.
“Since you won’t tell me where you came from and you have no idea where you’re going, I’ve brought you somewhere safe.”
Barrels turns around to pick up a crate of bottles, and Grace’s mouth drops open when she sees the biker’s patch on the back of his jacket.
“You’ve brought me to a motorcycle club?”
She appears uncertain now for the first time since I picked her up from the roadside. I wish she was this cautious about hitching on her own.
Ironically, the Wild Riders HQ is the safest place on this side of the mountain. We’re all veterans who love to ride. Everything we do here is legit. I see to that. It’s an MC club for ex-soldiers. A place for men who need to heal and men who just need a new place to belong.
I don’t say anything as I park and get out of the car.
Grace pulls at her door, and I fold my arms and let her try a few times before releasing the locking mechanism and pulling the door open for her.
“Thanks,” she mumbles as she gets out of the car.
“This is the Wild Riders MC headquarters. I’m a member here.”
Her mouth drops open in surprise, and she regards me with something like respect.
“You ride a motorcycle?”
She must think I’m an uptight prick, but I’m also a man, a man who likes a bike between his thighs, the wind on his face, and the road beneath his wheels.
“I’m not always an uptight asshole.”
She barks out a laugh, and the surprised smile she gives me is genuine.
“Just to runaway brides then?”
“It’s my responsibility to keep everyone on this mountain safe, and if that means being an asshole sometimes, then I don’t apologize for that.”
I gesture towards the clubhouse's back door. She steps forward and I put my hand on the small of her back, guiding her inside. My hand slips against the fabric of her wedding dress, and I wonder who the unlucky bastard is who she’s let down today.
Not my business, I tell myself.
I’ll leave her at the clubhouse for a few hours to cool off. I’ll ask the women to look after her, get her something to eat and some goddamn shoes. And when I’ve finished my shift later today, I’ll take her back to wherever she needs to go.
We walk through the back entrance, past the office and meeting room and into the restaurant area.
Her eyes go wide as she takes in the decor.
The Wild Taste Bar and Restaurant is another one of the MC’s businesses.
It’s a classy spot with a nod to our biking and military roots.
Pictures and biking paraphernalia line the walls, and a vintage Harley is mounted in the corner.
Davis is behind the bar, and he nods at me in greeting.
“Grace is our guest for the day,” I tell him. “Make sure she gets something to eat and drink.”
He nods. “Will do, Badge.”
“No alcohol,” I add. The last thing I need is a drunk runaway bride drowning her sorrows and crying over her bad life choices.
“Is that a puppy?” Grace exclaims as Hercules waddles out from behind the bar. The dog’s the size of a small horse and as slow as a donkey. How anyone could mistake him for a puppy is beyond me.
Grace crouches in front of Hercules and rubs his head. She giggles as the dog licks her face.
I’m overcome with the urge to take the afternoon off, to find an excuse to stay here with Grace, to get her a something to eat and bathe her feet and just be close to her.
I need to get a grip.
“I’ve got a few people to see here,” I tell her. “Then I’m going for the rest of my shift. You need to call your people and let them know you’re safe. Davis here will look after you, as will any of the other men and women from the club.”
“Okay.” She looks up at Davis and gives him a warm smile. “What’s your dog’s name?”
A frown creases my forehead. I’m not sure what I expected, but I thought she might be a little upset at me leaving her here. Instead, she’s patting Hercules and chatting with Davis with a huge smile on her face.
They are closer in age, I reason. But the thought makes my stomach churn.
I stride out of the restaurant to find Barrels.
Barrels suspects one of his staff is stealing the produce. We come up with a plan to reposition the cameras after hours to catch them. It’s a half hour later when I get back to the restaurant to check on Grace.
I only intend to make sure she’s been fed and knows that when I get back I expect her to have a destination where I can drop her off.
But when I enter the restaurant, I find Grace sitting on a bar stool, an empty plate next to her and a coffee in her hand.
She leans her elbows on the table, pushing her glorious breasts upwards.
Her hair has fallen out of its do and cascades down her shoulders like a chocolate waterfall.
Her eyes crinkle in laughter, and she throws her head back at something Davis says.
She half turns to speak to Luke, who’s pulled himself out of his wheelchair to sit on the barstool next to her.
I’m happy the boy’s learning to get around and out of his chair, but the surge of jealousy that floods my veins has me wanting to shove him and Davis out the way while I throw Grace over my shoulder and march her out of here.
I’m not thinking rationally as I stalk up to her, my hands in a tight fist.
“Change of plans.” My voice comes out clipped, and I’m the uptight asshole again.
The laughter dies on her lips as she sees me.
“Uh-oh, sheriff’s back. Everyone behave.” She laughs, but the boys know better than to laugh with her. We respect each other in this club. Even Luke knows that, and he’s still a prospect.
“You’re coming with me.”
Her brow wrinkles, and her lips form into a pout. “Don’t make me go back, sheriff. I’m not ready.”
I grab her arm, and she gasps at the contact. Her skin is warm and soft, and a bolt of electricity sparks from her arm through my fingertips, snaking along my skin and heating my body.
We both stare at where I’m gripping her in surprise. My hard fingers make white marks on her soft skin. I swallow hard and loosen my grip.
“I won’t take you back until you’re ready, but you have to come with me.”
I’m expecting her to talk back, to protest, but instead she slips off the stool. I drop her arm, and she rubs it where the finger marks fade into her skin.
“Okay.”
I’m glad she didn’t talk back, because there’s no logical explanation for why I want her with me. I just do.
I don’t look back as I guide her out of the clubhouse.
Wherever she came from, wherever she’s going, I’m not leaving her alone at the clubhouse to flirt with guys her own age.
Grace is coming with me.