Blue: Motorcycle Club Romance (Dragon Runners Book 3) Read online

  Blue

  Dragon Runners Book #3

  ML Nystrom

  Blue © 2018 by ML Nystrom

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any written, electronic, recorded, or photocopied format without the express permission from the author or publisher as allowed under the terms and conditions with which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorized distribution, circulation or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author’s rights, and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly. Thank you for respecting the work of this author.

  Blue is a work of fiction. All names, characters, events and places found therein are either from the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any similarity to persons alive or dead, actual events, locations, or organizations is entirely coincidental and not intended by the author.

  For information, contact the publisher, Hot Tree Publishing.

  www.hottreepublishing.com

  Editing: Hot Tree Editing

  Cover Designer: Claire Smith

  Formatting: Justine Littleton

  ISBN: 978-1-925655-93-3

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Epilogue

  Other Books by ML Nystrom

  TABLE SNEAK PEEK

  Chapter 1

  About the Author

  Acknowledgments

  About the Publisher

  This book is dedicated to the Merit Pit Bull Foundation, the doggie foster parents who support it and work with the animals, and all those big-hearted people who adopt rescue animals of any kind.

  One

  I woke up to the whines and snuffles of my fifty-pound terrier mix lying beside me. I stifled a groan and lifted my head to see the glowing blue numbers on my old digital clock. 5:02. Time to get up and start another work day. Alarms never had to be set, as the dogs’ bladders would go off about the same time every morning.

  Toto whined and pawed at the bedclothes again, filling my face with her morning doggie breath. If that didn’t get a person up, nothing would.

  “I’m up, I’m up,” I garbled at the dog, my voice grainy from sleep. I sat up and yawned hugely, mouth wide and teeth showing. I didn’t really care. Only the dogs were here to see me and they didn’t judge. Four other dogs of various sizes and breed mixes were sprawled on the bed with me. They had their own beds but preferred mine. I had a California king-sized mattress and yet on a nightly basis, I got about a twelve-inch wide strip to balance on at the edge. I pulled back the covers and pulled myself out, dislodging the rest of the canines. Maxx, Dion, Zeke, and Buddy were all rescued shelter dogs and were currently fostering in my care, waiting to find permanent homes. Toto was the only one I had officially adopted and had been with me since puppyhood.

  I staggered down the narrow steps to the kitchen door and let the dogs out into the spacious courtyard area. They sniffed around the designated potty place while I stood and watched them for a minute. It was still dark but dawn was creeping over the mountains and lighting up the small downtown area of Bryson City.

  The dogs had finished up in the corner of the courtyard and were now settling in for the day. Dion and Zeke were tugging a chew rope between them, Toto was napping in a corner, Buddy was watching a squirrel on the fence with his one good eye, and Maxx was digging a new hole, throwing red dirt on his black fur. I snapped my fingers at him and made a sharp tutting sound. He immediately stopped with one paw still in the soft ground, his head up as he looked at me. His expression warred between Oops, I got caught and Who, me? I laughed. I was going to miss this little guy. Today was a big day as Maxx had found a forever home and would be taken by his new owners later that afternoon.

  Since the dogs were occupied and settled for the time being, I turned toward more pressing business. I make soap. I make a lot of soap and sell it through my little craft store here in this little town in North Carolina. I also stock and sell items like knitted and sewn wares, woodcraft, beadwork, and a bit of pottery from other local artisans. A few years ago, I added a Facebook page to my store and my sales went through the roof. I can barely keep up with my soap production most weeks, and during the height of the summer nearly all my time is spent either at the store or making soap. Tourism is a big pull in this little mountain town with the train rides on the Great Smoky Mountain Railway, the rafting companies working the Nantahala River, the many hiking trails, fishing spots, and campgrounds. The people who come through are voracious for homemade mountain art, and my store turns a nice profit for me and for my suppliers. I do have to say the biggest pull to my store is my soap. It started off as a hobby and grew into this business. I’m forever lucky to have that skill.

  I’m a girly girl and like all girly-girl things like lingerie, pretty scented soaps, makeup, hair curlers, and stuff like that. I was still wearing the short silk nightie I slept in and went upstairs to quickly shower and get my day truly started. It was going to be a full one as I had a small mountain of boxes to ship and at least eighty pounds of new product to make. I did take a few minutes to stand in the window to watch the rising sun bathe the street in gold. This was my second-favorite time of the day, when the town was still sleeping and the streets were quiet. A window across from mine lit up, and I ducked behind the white lacy curtain to hide. Deputy Blue was up and starting his day as well. He had just moved into the upper-level apartment in the building across from mine, having called it quits with his on-again, off-again wife. The women who frequented my store were generous with the town gossip. The handsome deputy was a favorite topic, and I got regular updates whenever they came in. I’d heard the divorce had become final after the last round of drama. I could see his short sandy hair tousled from sleep as he ran his hand over his face and head. He stood, stretching his heavy arms high, head hanging back, wearing nothing but a pair of dark boxers. I wasn’t close enough to see him fully, but I knew he was built solid and stocky, muscular without the lined definition of a gym rat. He worked out regularly at the gym, but he didn’t have the look of a bodybuilder. He was just a man in great shape but probably wouldn’t be thrilled to find out his neighbor hid behind a curtain every morning ogling him. It was one part of our morning routine and one he had no clue he participated in.

  I watched as he wandered off somewhere in his apartment, probably the bathroom. I headed to my own to shower and get myself ready for a long day. I put on my version of a workday uniform, a light cotton peasant skirt with an ethnic print and a solid ribbed tank top, and went down to my workshop/kitchen area. The smells of the essential oils and fragrances hit my nose and I inhaled deeply of the floral and citrus scents. I made a wide variety of soaps in different colors and designs using a hot process method as well as a cold process. My shop shelves were well organized to keep track of everything. I had already made a list of cold process soaps I needed to make to replenish the ones I was shipping out later. I put on my goggles an
d gloves to measure and mix up the needed amount of lye solutions in plastic pitchers. They smoked and steamed with the heated chemical reaction. I prided myself on making everything from scratch, but it was a long method and I had to allow time for the solutions to cool. While this was happening, I had time to get my recent orders I’d packed yesterday to the shipping place as soon as it opened at seven. After that was getting coffee, another treat to my daily routine.

  The dogs were begging to come with me, but I had no room in my truck bed for them, having to load fourteen large boxes to ship to various stores that bought my soap wholesale. They usually stayed in the courtyard, but sometimes one or two of them hung out with me in the store. Toto mostly, as she was my customer greeter. Everyone in town who came to my store knew her name.

  There was a fifteenth box holding several dozen shipping envelopes that I used to send stuff to individual buyers. I was sweating hard by the time I got everything loaded and ready to take to the shipping place. We were at that time of the year when fall cooled the air at night but summer was still trying to hang on during the day.

  The shipping place wasn’t open yet, but Mountain Perks, my favorite local coffee shop, was. I slipped in to grab a much-needed latte. Pam, the owner, was up and behind the old-fashioned counter working the espresso machine. A few other people were there, more than likely early morning workers for the railroad. I waved to her as the machine hissed and spat out a stream of fragrant goodness. She winked and pulled another cup from the stack. I didn’t have to tell her my order as she already knew, a hazelnut latte with a shot of espresso and skim milk.

  I turned from the counter to check out her newest displays of mugs and teapots then glanced at my watch. It was six forty-five. The bell over the door rang and Deputy Blue walked in. Right on time. He spotted me, those deep brown eyes of his taking me in, and he nodded a short greeting. My stomach fluttered. I smiled and blinked a greeting back. This was the other part of our morning routine. Sometimes he made it to the coffee shop before I did and sometimes after, but we were there together at some point every morning. He greeted Pam in his low, gruff voice. He didn’t have to state his order either. Large Americano. No cream or sugar. Simple and straightforward.

  He fiddled with the tourist brochures on display as his cup was being poured. Pam called out for me.

  “Morning, Psalm. You’re all set.” She handed me a steaming paper cup in a cardboard holder. I swiped my card and left a cash tip. As I exited the coffee shop, I glanced in Blue’s direction and lifted my cup in a see-you-tomorrow gesture. He nodded again, his face unsmiling. That was it. That was our complete routine and one I’d come to look forward to on a daily basis. Yes, I may have had a small crush on Jason “Blue” Davis that started way back in high school, but I knew I’d probably never act on it.

  I’d been married once before. My husband and I had lived in the city of High Point, just a few hours east of here. He’d worked for a furniture company and I managed a local craft store. We met in college where he was studying computer science and I was studying art and business marketing. I fell in love with the tall, lanky, bespectacled man and married him shortly after graduation. We were DINKs in a nice neighborhood in a big modern house with our terrier mix rescue puppy. We were happy and content with our lives, not rich and not going to be rich, just happy.

  We had celebrated our six-year anniversary and were talking about having children when Adam became sick. It started out as stomach cramps and we didn’t think it was much more than job stress, but it got worse quickly. A few weeks later, we discovered that he had advanced stage four pancreatic cancer. He died less than a month later.

  I was devastated. It was like the world shattered around me. Our simple plans for the future had been kids, making secure financial investments, and doing a bit of traveling before settling in a retirement community. It took less than a month for that dream to disappear completely. I can look back now and be grateful that Adam did not linger with months or years of pain and suffering.

  Adam was a left-brain thinker, always the logical one. We had money in the bank, a stable investment portfolio, and several life insurance policies thanks to his OCD about planning. Our savings covered the medical bills his insurance didn’t, and I was left with a good-sized pile of money. I was also left alone with a big house I didn’t need, full of painful memories and broken dreams. I was twenty-eight at that time and by age twenty-nine, I found myself selling the house and moving back to my hometown of Bryson City. My parents still lived outside of the small town and still farmed a bit. I had money to buy my store and home, make the renovations I wanted, open the business, and still have plenty in the bank. Now five years after Adam’s death, I’m good. I’m content. I guess I’m happy or at least happy enough.

  I’d been on a few dates since my husband died, but no one I’d want to start anything serious with. The one time I tried to sleep with someone else… well, let’s just say it didn’t go well. He was a nice man and I liked him, but there was no real spark between us. The sex was mechanical at best and even though he got off, he really didn’t seem to enjoy it much. I went through the motions, but that was all. We parted ways amicably and since he lived one county over, we didn’t see each other as often as we would if we lived in the same town. This helped with any awkwardness that may have cropped up. As it stands, I have my house and store, my rescue foster dogs, friends, colleagues, and parents. Even though it wasn’t going to go anywhere, I also had a wonderful daily view of a beautiful man. What else did I really need?

  Two

  I arrived back to the store about an hour later and went back to my open workroom. The lye solutions were almost cool enough to start mixing. I donned my goggles and gloves again, and started work. I measured the oils and butters I use in the different recipes into several giant five-gallon stock pots and started them heating. My biggest soap molds held ten pounds of soap each. I could make bigger molds, but then the weight and size of the soap loafs would be hard for me to handle. I’m a very petite woman and even though I’m not particularly weak, I’m also not very muscular. When I was working, I kept my blonde hair tied up in a ponytail and under a bandana to hang down my back, as the long, thick strands had a tendency to get in the way. Lye burns were nothing to sneeze at, so I always wore protection when handling the solutions and the raw soap. I’d like to keep my blue eyes and as it would only take one splash to blind me, my goggles were covered with a full-face shield.

  In between mixing, I had to open the store. No one was on the street yet, but there would be a lot of foot traffic later in the morning. I added the essential oils to the batch I was mixing and kept an eye on the front door. Lavender, bergamot, and clary sage went into this one as well as a swirl of lavender, white, and teal colorings. The next would be lemongrass and avocado in a solid pale green. I would add finely ground, dried lemongrass to that one.

  A few people wandered in and poked around, watching me work. Holly came in, the woman who made the doll clothes and helped run the store a few days a week. I waved a soap-covered glove at her. Some of my other artists came in to work the store occasionally and meet the people who bought their wares, but Holly was one of my regulars and a big help.

  The morning blurred into the afternoon. Holly left, and I was working the store as well as slicing a soap loaf into bars. This one was scented in Japanese Cherry Blossom and I had used white, forest green, and dark burgundy as the colors. A fairly steady stream of people had come through and I’d received a number of internet orders that I’d already packed up and had ready for the shipping run the next morning. The dogs were out in the courtyard except for Toto. She was lounging on her bed near the door. Being the most senior of the dogs meant she could stay inside and greet customers. She’d had a stroke a few months back and I was having to give her shots and daily pills for her arthritis, but I wasn’t ready to give her the big shot just yet. She was the last tie I had to Adam. Maybe this was a selfish act, but so far she wasn’t in pain or suffe
ring. Our vet, Dr. Lindsey Jackson, had told me at our last visit that I wasn’t wrong either way at this point, so I chose to keep her here just a bit longer. I was sure she would have advised me differently if it was truly time.

  Being a Tuesday, I closed the store at six, changed into frayed jeans and a T-shirt, and left to take the dogs to the dog park where they could run and play without the confines of the courtyard. Maxx’s new family would be meeting us there and I’d have one less dog to feed later.

  Walking four dogs took some stamina. Toto didn’t go, as she just couldn’t make it that far and keeping up with the younger dogs wasn’t easy for her. I ran and played with the dogs as well, tossing several balls and toys for them to catch and bring back. I had poop bags in one pocket for accidents and treats in the other. Zeke ran up with a slobber-covered tennis ball, which I took from his mouth and threw. He barked and took off after it. Buddy slumped down, panting contentedly at my feet, and rolled for a belly rub. Maxx and Dion were playing tug of war with a rope toy. Other dogs were around with their owners and I had to keep a sharp eye on all four of mine.

  There was a playground for children on the other side of the parking lot. I saw Blue drive up in his deputy car and my heart jumped a little. He and his two kids climbed out with backpacks and headed to the equipment. It looked like he’d picked them up from school that day. Now my focus was split between the kids playing on the monkey bars, my dogs running around, and Blue leaning on a swing set. His arms were folded and he was watching his kids and never looked in my direction. I barely noticed when a family of Mom, Dad, and two preteen girls approached me.