Blue: Motorcycle Club Romance (Dragon Runners Book 3) Page 2

  “Ms. Kopolove?” I turned to the female voice and smiled. The goal was to get my fosters adopted to forever homes, but there was still that bittersweet tingle when one of them moved out.

  “Hi, Angie,” I greeted and held out my hand. “He’s right over there. Do you have a leash and treats?”

  Angie smiled back. “Yes, we have them right here. We bought a dog bed today, food, dishes, the whole nine yards. The girls are so excited!”

  I nodded and turned to call Maxx to me. He let go of the toy, looked up with his ears forward in his Who me? look, and ignored me completely. He bounded over to the two kids who were sitting on the ground, patting their legs and calling, “Here, Maxx, here, Maxxie!” He climbed all over the laughing girls to lick at their faces. They played with the jumping dog for a few minutes before snapping on a leash. I hugged and petted him before they led him away. Tears pricked at my eyes when he paused and turned back. I knew he was confused, but the girls fawned over him as they lifted him to the strange car, petting and talking to him. He would be fine, spoiled rotten more than likely.

  I heard some shouting and my attention was drawn back to the kids’ park. Jonelle, Blue’s ex-wife, was there now, picking up the kids. She was yelling something and gesturing wildly. I couldn’t hear her words, but it was obvious she wasn’t happy. The kids were cringing, their heads bowed. Blue was talking, not yelling, but his arms were stiff at his sides and his fists were balled up tight. I didn’t think he was the type to ever hit a woman, but Jonelle would be trying for anyone. She and I were the same age and I remembered her from back in school as being unpredictable. She could be either sticky sweet or she could go off frequently on someone when she didn’t get her way or was displeased. That hadn’t changed in the years since we were kids. It was also no secret she’d been involved in some serious drug use and even had to go into rehab for a while. Blue was a few years ahead of me in school and I remembered him being on the football and wrestling teams. How he and Jonelle fell in love enough to marry and have kids was a mystery. I gasped as Jonelle swung her hand to crack across Blue’s face. He caught her arm before she made contact and said something to her. She screamed at him and I heard “fucking bastard!” from across the lot. The kids quietly picked up their backpacks and climbed into Jonelle’s black Camaro. Her tires screeched as she pulled out of the parking lot, almost daring Blue to do something about it. He stood there for a moment, statue still, then got in his squad car and drove off himself.

  I sighed. My heart went out to those two kids. I could only imagine what they were going through. My parents were still together and I’d never seen them even argue. Pick at each other, yes, but never had they been into a knock-down, drag-out fight. My sadness for the kids was tempered with anger at their mom and dad. Jonelle’s temper was legendary around town and I couldn’t for the life of me understand how Blue could allow his two children to get in a car with her and drive away. I didn’t know exactly what their lives were like, and I did try to understand more than criticize, but for the life of me I couldn’t wrap my head around Blue’s spineless approach to his kids’ care. It made me want to slap him myself.

  I called my remaining dogs to me. Later they would look for Maxx, but in the doggie world, their grief would be short, as they still had each other.

  Back at my house, I closed up the courtyard and fed everyone, including myself. Grilled cheese and soup from a can weren’t a culinary experience, but cooking for one was a pain because by that time at night, I was ready to relax. The nights were becoming dark earlier. I thought about taking a bubble bath but decided on TV and a glass of wine. I was surfing the channels looking for something to catch my interest when a light across the street came on. I moved over and saw Blue in his window. He opened the little fridge in his apartment and pulled out a bottle of beer. I felt guilty for spying on him, but it was hard to look away. He walked around a bit, then put the beer back in the fridge unopened. I knew what that meant. He turned off the light and left the apartment. A moment later, I heard and saw him pull out of the narrow alley next to the building on his motorcycle. He drove off with a roar. He would return later, early morning sometime, somehow managing to still meet me at the coffee shop on time for our secret routine. I didn’t know where he went or what he did. I just knew this was a frequent thing. As angry at him as I was an hour ago, I still hurt for him.

  I stood up myself and put on my favorite yoga pants and big sweatshirt. I went down to my workroom, as sleep would be impossible until I heard the returning growl of the big navy blue Harley. Blue had no knowledge of the vigil I kept for him during nights like these, but I’d had problems with insomnia during my marriage as well. I looked over my shelves of oils, butters, waxes, and the other bits of my trade, seeking inspiration. Hmm…. How ’bout a new flavor of lip balm? Chocolate mint? Cherry lime? One recipe made close to two hundred tubes and would take a few hours to finish.

  I took out my big bowls, digital scale, empty tubes, and filling trays, and got to work.

  Blue sat on his bike and looked over the sleeping North Carolina town from the bluff. He lifted the cigarette to his lips and took a long puff, wishing it was something other than tobacco. The smoke curled in the cool night air over his head to mingle with his breath. Being an inactive member of the Dragon Runners MC, the son of its president and queen, and a sheriff’s deputy didn’t mean he was immune to the occasional illegal behavior, but he couldn’t take any chances on anything that would jeopardize his job. Jonelle had come to the park earlier to pick up the kids and had been in rare form. Demanding more money, claiming she needed it for new school clothes for the kids and he had to pony it up right then and there. He dared to ask about the extra he gave her last month for new school clothes and she had flown into one of her hissing rages. She tried to hit him, but he’d already been the recipient of those claws before. Three faint parallel scars across his cheek proved it. He would never hit a woman, not even when that woman took a swing at him, but he’d be damned if he allowed her to ever mark him again, especially in front of the kids.

  He wanted to sue for full custody, but he had no real home to take them to right now. Nearly all his money went to alimony and child support. The craptastic apartment he could afford on what was left was little more than a couple of small, bare rooms. The only redeeming quality was he had a nice view of the old Bowers house with its white siding and grayish-blue trim. He could move back to the Lair with his parents, but what did that say when a thirty-six-year-old man had to move back home? The Lair was a giant lodge on the Dragon Runners compound that housed rooms for the club as well as the home of Betsey and Brick Davis, his parents and the leaders of the club. He didn’t think the town council would appreciate it either.

  From the observation point on the bluffs, he had a pretty good downward view overlooking Main Street, and noticed a faint light on in the lower half of the Bowers house across the street from his apartment. He made an educated guess that Psalm was up again, working in her store. He’d noticed the lights coming on during past nights when he was restless and roaming. If he was on the street, at just the right angle, he could sometimes spot her bustling around her work area. She was on the short side, not much over five-foot-tall maybe, and petite all over. She had straight blonde hair that always seemed to shine and flow like liquid gold across her shoulders. Sometimes she wore it in a clip while she worked, but his favorite way to see it was when she let it hang free and loose. She was always made up, but not overblown like many of the women he knew at the clubhouse. Jonelle had a shit ton of makeup and wore it constantly as well, but somehow the two looks were different.

  Blue drew in another lungful of smoke and let it out slowly. How had life gotten this way? He’d thought by this age he should have been well into his career, his kids doing well, with a content wife, secure future, halfway through the mortgage payments, and well on his way to a long and happy life. Instead he was struggling to stay afloat, worried constantly about his kids, and dealing wit
h an ex-wife who was more like a banshee than a woman. He didn’t even remember why he married her in the first place. If there was any love between them once upon a time, it was long dead and buried.

  He finished his cigarette and pinched the end before putting it in his jacket pocket. There were strict rules about littering on the bluffs and the odd cigarette had been known to start forest fires. As a man of the law, Blue felt he had to follow the same rules he enforced, although there were a few he bent from time to time. He mounted up to go back down the worn trail to the town he was sworn to protect. Maybe now he could sleep a few hours. He had to be up later and would see Psalm at the coffee shop at her usual time. Hazelnut latte with a shot of espresso and skim milk. She would probably be shocked at how much he looked forward to their daily nod and blink.

  Three

  The morning started as usual. The dogs woke me up a little after five and I blearily let them out to take care of business. The property used to have a number of outbuildings, but those and most of the land surrounding the house was sold after the good doctor who previously owned the house passed. I called it the courtyard as there was a gazebo in the middle, a few trees, and several marked flower bed areas that were surrounded with stone pathways. I always thought the previous owner had visions of garden parties and such when he used the place as a bed-and-breakfast. My dogs pretty much made gardening impossible and they used the enclosed gazebo as a community dog house. An eight-foot-high wood privacy fence kept my dogs in and onlookers out.

  I went through my routine and saw that Blue was up too. He really should have curtains. My mouth went dry at the sight of him in only a towel, wet from a recent shower. He turned and dropped it on the bed, giving me a great view of his perfect tight ass. Oh yeah! I watched as he stretched his arms over his head. It was too far away to see his back muscles flex, but I imagined what they would look like up close, flawless as a marble sculpture. Michelangelo would be jealous. He turned around and I got an eyeful before I realized he was facing the window. I ducked down, thinking that the curtains probably hid me enough that he hadn’t seen me ogling him. Even so, I hunched over, awkwardly moving across my room to grab my own shower and start my day.

  I was running a bit behind when I drove my pile of boxes to the shipping place. I needed the coffee but wanted to make sure this bunch made the morning route. I piled them high on the hand truck I kept in the back of my pickup and heaved the thing over to push it into the store. The load was top-heavy and started to topple. I grabbed for it and almost lost the whole pile, but a khaki-clad arm stopped the tower of boxes from tipping and settled them back on the hand truck. I looked up into the deep brown eyes of the man whose naked ass I had admired just an hour or so ago. My heart sped up a bit as butterflies blossomed in my stomach, and I hoped my face wasn’t turning red.

  “Um… thanks, Deputy Davis,” I said, proud of the way I maintained a steady voice.

  “No problem, Ms. Kopolove,” he replied, just as steadily. He wheeled the hand truck around and tilted it back further to hold the boxes in place. “Get the door and I’ll get these inside.”

  I noticed he didn’t ask, he ordered, but I wasn’t going to point that out. I opened the door and he pushed the heavy contraption easily over the threshold bump where I usually had to wrestle it.

  “This all you got?” he asked, setting the hand truck upright and lifting the first box onto the counter. The shipping clerk brought out his scanner and zapped the barcodes on the labels I’d already prepared.

  “Yes, that’s all for this load,” I answered.

  He nodded and continued to place box after box on the counter. “You getting coffee after you’re finished here?” He leaned on the hand truck handle and wiped a hand over his moist brow.

  “That’s the plan.” I laughed lightly. The butterflies were back.

  The clerk finished up and I signed the paper and swiped my credit card. Blue waited and walked silently with me the short distance to the coffee shop. Pam saw us coming and smiled big. She had both our coffees ready by the time we came in, Blue holding the door open for me. I had to brush close enough to him to enter that I could smell his masculine aroma. He didn’t wear any aftershave and only smelled like clean male, but his scent still tickled my nose. Those butterflies were soaring through my middle again. Before I could swipe my card, he paid for both coffees and handed me mine.

  “Thank you, Deputy. You didn’t have to do that, you know,” I muttered, taking the first sip and groaning. Pam was a coffee artist!

  “No problem, Ms. Kopolove,” he said again, his voice low and gruff. “You ship that many boxes every day?”

  I nodded. “I have a load every morning. Sometimes a few less and sometimes a few more.”

  “Business must be pretty good.”

  “Umm… yes. Everyone needs soap, and my vendors are constantly asking for more. I like pretty things and try to make all my soaps pretty. People seem to like it and my vendors have said they sell out frequently.”

  “Nice problem to have.” He smiled. “Plenty of people would love to be in your shoes.”

  “Yes, I’m sure they would.”

  I looked him in the eye for a moment and then had to look away. I wasn’t sure what else to say or do as we stood there awkwardly sipping our coffees. I could feel myself blushing as my brain scrambled for something to say.

  “I’d better get back to the store,” I finally said. “Thanks again for the coffee. Maybe my treat tomorrow?”

  “We’ll see.” That was usually manspeak for “not a chance,” but maybe I could do something nice for him. He did help me get my stuff to the shipping place without disaster.

  “Um—thank you for helping me. Come by the shop and I’ll give you a soap of your choice,” I said as we walked out the door. Again, he held it open for me. Some women didn’t like men doing this, but I really enjoyed being treated like a lady and appreciated those gentlemanly gestures.

  “Might do that,” he uttered and lifted the hand truck into the back of my pickup. I was pretty sure this was still manspeak for “I doubt it.” “I’ll see you at the shipping place tomorrow morning, Ms. Kopolove.” He nodded and moved to his own vehicle. “You need help lifting them boxes at the store, just let me know.”

  I was on cloud nine. Yes, I still had that high school crush and hoped Blue would come in to see my shop, but reality was he had no reason to do so. Back in high school, I was the pretty, popular, good girl, a cheerleader, and a class officer. I made the honor roll and stuff like that. I even won the title of Homecoming Queen my junior year and got to ride in the Thanksgiving Day parade in a fluffy pink dress. I still have the sparkly rhinestone crown. Blue and I never talked much in school. We weren’t really friends, but we, being involved in athletics, were somewhat in the same circle. He was a bit of a wild child and an up-and-coming member of the local motorcycle club of which his parents were the leaders. I guess you could say we knew of each other but didn’t know each other. He didn’t know I carried a torch for him then and he doesn’t know it now either.

  The day progressed like every other day. Greet customers, fill online orders as they came in, take pictures of new stock and post on the website, and, of course, make soap. I was cooking a liquid castille soap base made from pure olive oil to fill an order for a store in Asheville, and the phone rang while I was mixing in eucalyptus essential oil to the hot liquid batter.

  It was Dr. Jackson. She was part of an animal rescue and knew all my dogs. I already knew what was coming.

  “Hey, Psalm, how are you?” she opened politely. “Store doing well?”

  “I’m good. The store is good. What do you have for me?” I asked, laughing a bit.

  She laughed as well. “You already know I have a placement, don’t you? Well, this one’s kinda special. Do you remember that multi-state dog fighting ring that was busted up a while back?”

  “Yes, I do,” I replied, holding the phone with my chin against my shoulder so I could free up my hands. I
needed to get one of those Bluetooth thingies really soon. “It was one of the biggest ever found.”

  “Yup. Well you know there was a bunch of dogs there that were treated and rehabbed. A few had to be put down, but the rest are being fostered out now. I got a call about one yesterday. He’s all healed up but needs a good foster place. You think you’re up for that?”

  “Pit bull, I’m assuming?” I asked while stirring the soapy solution. The pungent scent of the eucalyptus wafted from the giant pot, and the steam made my face damp and shiny. My hair was up in a messy bun at the top of my head and starting to fall apart in the wet heat.

  “Um, yes… and, um….” Dr. Jackson’s voice was different. My ears pricked up.

  “Something wrong with him?” I asked, putting the extra-long spoon down and wiping at my face, probably smearing what was left of my makeup.

  “His name is Sam and he was one of the big gladiators. He did a lot of the really fierce fighting and has a lot of scars to prove it. When the raid happened, he was in the pit, but this time on the losing end. He was pretty torn up and probably would have died there if the rescuers hadn’t found him in time. Nasty business. I can’t understand why anyone would condone or promote this kind of cruelty! Makes me sick.”

  I agreed with her. I hoped the people responsible stayed in jail for a good long time.

  “I do have an opening, but will he be okay with my other dogs?” I had worked with pitties before, including a few fighting dogs, but those were at the shelter. I’ve never had one to foster long-term.

  “He’s good with the other dogs at the shelter, but—well, you’d need to see him. I’ll be blunt, Psalm. This dog has been through hell and back. He’s super big, he’s super strong, he’s super smart, and he’s super scared. We expected more aggression, but he spends his time cowering and hiding. Barely comes out of his crate. Food is an issue. He eats as if he thinks it will be taken away from him and we’re pretty sure he was starved, but he doesn’t show enough of a food aggression to the workers or to other dogs to be concerning. He needs a kind, patient hand and I think yours is one of the best. Can you take him, or do you want to meet him first?”