Silver Biker: The Silver Foxes of Blue Ridge Read online

  “You need to meet Letty, Giant’s fiancée. Come to dinner next Sunday.”

  Sunday dinners were a ritual for the Harringtons. One meant to gather the family and keep them connected. We’d come and gone to them over the years. “Did you know they are getting married soon? And Janessa, Charlie’s new wife—”

  “Charlie has a wife?” The shock of another Harrington settling into matrimony, and one I didn’t know had happened, is like a sucker punch to the gut. All these people were getting a chance at second love, and I couldn’t even salvage my first.

  “Yes, they were married at the end of August. And Matilda is engaged.”

  “Mati,” I whisper, having forgotten that she’d lost her husband two years ago. I didn’t attend the funeral as I didn’t think it would be appropriate. Giant was the one to share the news with me. James didn’t mention it during our annual call. It wasn’t the sort of thing we discussed.

  “Denton Chance. You don’t know him, but he’s Dolores’s younger brother.” The mention of Dolores lifts my head. Denton and Dolores Chance grew up in the house next door. Their father had been the town mayor when they were teens. James had a thing with his childhood neighbor. An on-again, off-again affair that spanned years which James did not realize involved deep love on her part and only sex on his.

  “He ran off to be a rock star but returned last year when his mother fell ill and eventually passed away. God rest her spirit.” I remember hearing about this man—a guitarist in the band Chrome Teardrops. Elaina’s coquettish smile tells me she’s honored to have someone famous enter her family.

  “I’m very happy for all of them.”

  “You must come to dinner,” she tenderly commands, reaching for my hand again although I’m not certain I can stomach a meal with the happy couples, especially if they all think I pulled away from James instead of him pushing me out.

  “I’ll think about it. I’m not certain how long I’ll be in town. I need to return to Savannah soon.”

  “Oh pish. For what?” Elaina asks, wrinkling her nose like the historical seaside city can’t possibly be better than this mountain ridge town. I can’t tell her Dalton waits for me. I can’t mention I might be getting married again myself one day, once I divorce her son.

  “Business,” I state, knowing it covers the truth in part. “It’s great to see you,” I say again, meaning it more this time as my heart hurts to walk away from her. I lean forward to give her a quick cheek kiss and inhale her gardenia scent one more time. She pulls me in for another tight hug—a Harrington hug—and I might shatter on the kitchen floor.

  8

  Alligators On A Mountaintop

  [James]

  When the front door slammed this morning, it was like a trigger went off and I’d been awakened to what happened. Rubbing two hands over my face, I stared at the empty space where Evie stood yelling at me.

  I had to let you go.

  Isn’t that what I’d asked of her? I’d told her to leave me. Leave me alone. I can’t look at you.

  She didn’t understand how difficult it was to look into her hurt-filled eyes and see my son reflected back at me. It’s bad enough when I close my eyes, I can see his in my mind.

  There are all these sensations.

  The fear in his gaze.

  The feel of his skin.

  The taste of his panic.

  The sound of his plea.

  “Hold still,” I’d said.

  “Don’t let me go,” he cried.

  Evie’s words echoed in my head again.

  I had to let you go.

  I could have started drinking right then at nine-something in the morning. Instead, I left the house, taking my pup for a long walk. Silver is my steady companion now, and I feel a little guilty that I’ve spent another night passed out on the couch.

  As we walk through the woods near my house, I realize Evie didn’t mention the Siberian Husky.

  What was Evie doing at the house last night?

  I whistle for Silver, so he doesn’t get too far ahead of me. He barks back at me to acknowledge my call. Of course, I have faith he isn’t going to disappear. He’s rather protective. It’s the strangeness of how I found him that tells me he’ll never wander away.

  It was after Michael’s death, after Evie’s exit. I’d wandered where I shouldn’t have gone on the mountain, having uneasy thoughts. I’d never been suicidal. I lived life on my terms. But there were so many moments when I wanted life to end, where I thought I could not go on without him, without her. I could never bring myself to actually take action, but the idea haunted me day in and day out. I’d been up near the ridge, just off our family’s property, thinking these anxious thoughts again when suddenly the dog appeared.

  It was as if he walked up the ledge, marking the drop-off, which would never have been possible.

  “Where’d you come from boy?” I questioned as the dog walked right up to me and sat down. His head turned side to side and then stalled over the valley ahead. As if I could read dog thoughts, his position seemed to answer my question. He yelped to confirm his answer. He came from out there, somewhere.

  As I’d once been a member of the Blue Ridge Search and Rescue team, I felt obligated to return him to an owner and listed him as a lost dog found. As time went on, I was relieved no one came to claim him. He was pretty far from a normal hiking trail or adventure path when he found me. And that’s the way I view it. He found me. I was the one lost.

  I watch as the silver-gray and white furred body jumps a stump and then turns back for me, making certain I’m following him.

  “Don’t lose me,” he seems to say in his dog-stare.

  “Never,” I whisper to the woods, knowing it can be a lie. Never is something that inevitably has an end date despite the implication of infinity. Same with the word forever.

  “I’ll love you forever,” Evie once said to me, but I heard the words loud and clear this morning. She loved me, past tense, meaning no longer, never again.

  God, I’m an asshole. There are two halves to something whole and I haven’t been whole since Evie left. It was different from the loss of Michael. That understanding so difficult to grasp. His was an infinite end because he was never going to come back. Evelyn, on the other hand, was out there somewhere. I knew she existed because she called me once a year to remind me.

  Although those calls were not so much about her or me, but a reminder of him.

  “Happy Birthday, baby,” she’d whisper through the line.

  “Happy Birthday, little man,” I’d choke out every damn year.

  Another year gone. Another year he’d never have. Another year I had to go on without him.

  And her.

  I call out for my pup, not missing the irony in my nickname being Ranger and naming him Silver. He yips back and runs to me. The lone ranger and my trusty steed, or in his case, a Husky. I have no idea what his name once was, but he responded when I called him the metal and the label stuck.

  As we walk back toward the house, Evie’s voice travels through my thoughts.

  “You could have called me. I’d been waiting for five years,” she said.

  What could I have said to her? How many times could I say ‘I’m sorry’ before the words meant nothing? How many ways could I explain what happened when I didn’t even know myself?

  “I’m sorry,” I say to the breeze surrounding me, having said it a million times and knowing I’d say it a million more, only each time there’s no one to hear my apology.

  Not her.

  Not him.

  + + +

  “James?”

  When Evie opens the door to her Conrad Lodge room, I’m ready to chicken out again. I don’t know what I’m doing here but my bike had a mind of its own this evening. While it’s just after dinner time, the sun hangs low in the autumn sky.

  I slip my hands into my back pockets and rock on my boots. “I was wondering if you’d take a ride with me, Peach?”

  She leans against the
door, crossing her arms. Her mouth falls open and then shuts, and I swallow as my throat dries. I was kissing her just this morning—kissing her with anger and regret, hostility and heartache.

  “Just a ride. I promise to have you back at a respectable hour,” I tease, hesitating with my humor.

  “Fine,” she huffs, pressing off the door and stepping back into the room for a jacket. I didn’t check out this space the other night but it’s a nice room. A queen-size bed fills the center of the space with a large wardrobe to the left of the bed. A nightstand with a fancy chair stands to the right. The room is white, reminding me strangely of our first night as a married couple. We’d booked a bridal suite in this lodge, but it hadn’t looked like this room.

  “Ready?” Evie asks, standing before me with her jacket on and her bag crossing her body.

  “You won’t need that, if you want to just slip your phone or whatever in a pocket instead.” Evie leerily looks at me but she’ll understand in a minute. I’d love to tell her to ditch the phone as well. I don’t need some jackoff Dalton dude interrupting us again. Dalton. Sounds like a pretentious schmuck name and I hate him without knowing him.

  My Peach. She always had men fawning over her.

  I watch her tug the bag over her head. Reaching inside it, she removes a key card and the phone, tucking one into her back pocket and the other inside her jacket. My body hums, eager to get out of this room before I do something foolish like tackle her to the bed and take her mouth again.

  I hadn’t realized how much I’d missed her kisses until we were kissing again. Whether its frustration or temptation, the familiarity of her lips on mine has my brain all confused. My heart is hardwired to her, and the moment we connect, it’s like a plug in an outlet, sexual energy flowing.

  I step back and wave out a hand, allowing Evie to pass me. My eyes drift to her ass in her tight jeans. I’ve missed her body, too. The fit of those firm cheeks in my palm. The feel of her solid breasts in my hand. Her thighs around my hips. I scrub a hand down my face as I follow her out of the room and down the hall.

  Once outside, Evie looks around when I stop by my motorcycle.

  “We’re riding on that?”

  “Peach, don’t be a prude. You’ve been on my bike a hundred times.”

  “So have a bunch of other women,” she mutters, and the comment sparks a match. I stalk to her, cupping her jaw with one hand.

  “No one rides my bike but me. And you.” Her eyes widen with the depth of my voice and the weight of the words. She might have caught me with a woman on my lap, but I don’t let women ride with me. That makes a statement I’m not willing to make with anyone but the woman before me.

  Evie continues to watch me, trying to stare back into my eyes, but I can’t look directly at her. It’s too much. I’m still raw today. Still upset to find her in Michael’s room. Still irritated with her words about his belongings. And still aggravated by the call that interrupted us.

  I release her jaw and Evie gasps, like she was holding her breath. Not that I was hurting her. I’d never hurt her, at least not physically. I’m certain I’ve ripped out her heart and torn it to shreds, but that’s different.

  After offering Evie a helmet, I swing my leg over the bike and settle in. My dick stiffens with the anticipation of what will happen next. I hold out a hand to help her slide behind me, but she places her hand on my shoulder instead. Slinging her leg over the seat, she settles in behind me. Her thighs spread around the outside of mine. Without looking, I know her heat is at my ass. She’s keeping herself stiff and as distant as she can, but she knows she can’t ride like that.

  “Gonna have to touch me, Peach,” I call out after I start the engine. I don’t hear a response from her, but her hands come to my sides, curling into the edges of my jacket above my hips. It’s not going to be tight enough and I won’t risk her falling off the back just because she doesn’t want to press against me. I reach for her wrist and tug a hand forward.

  What I don’t expect is the shock to myself. Her flattened hand against my abs makes them contract.

  “Sorry,” she calls out, over the engine, but I catch her hand before she retreats.

  “Hold on,” I warn, kicking up the stand and balancing us before rolling forward. Evie’s arms instantly wrap around me. I’m conscious of the placement of her hands, just above my waistband. Her palms remain flat, fingers spread until we exit the lot. Then her fingers curl into the edge of my shirt, fisting the material. Her chest rests at my back. In my head, I feel her breasts, naked against my equally naked shoulder blades. It’s a position we perfected over the years, where she’d give me a back hug. She’d nibble at the base of my neck, hands coasting up my chest. Her fingertips would comb through the smattering of hair between my pecs. She’d kiss my shoulder and her fingertips would skim to a nipple, circling it, teasing it. I’d let her play a minute before I’d spin on her and take over.

  I hadn’t recalled those tender moments for a long time, but this familiar position triggers me.

  Something else hits me.

  Evie came with me without asking questions. She didn’t argue. She didn’t ask where we were going. She still trusts me, and something inside me wants her trust back full time.

  We meander along backroads, winding through the darkening night. It’s just light enough for me to find the two-tire trail I want and turn onto the short path before slowing to a halt. I cut the engine, feeling Evie stiffen at my back. She doesn’t move at first. Hands still fist in my shirt. Her upper body at my back. Glancing over my shoulder at her lack of movement, her chin tips as she stares straight ahead.

  “Why here?” she finally asks.

  I don’t have a direct answer. I’m a pawn in a board game over the past couple of days, and something greater than me is playing me.

  “Heard there was an alligator sighting,” I tease, but when Evie doesn’t laugh, I clear my throat and add, “I thought we could talk here. Or just sit a bit.”

  It’s become one of my favorite pastimes, making me sound old and dodgy when I’m only forty-eight. I just sit and ponder, brushing away what I don’t want to remember, pulling forth what I do. This is one of those places I come to on occasion when I want to recall good memories.

  I’ve brought her to the lake property.

  Evie shifts, swinging her leg off the bike. She stumbles a second, and I reach out a hand to steady her. Unless she’s been on a bike lately, I’m guessing her wobble is from the vibration in her thighs.

  “Just lost my footing,” she mutters, but I don’t release her. Keeping my hand attached to her hip, I remove myself from the bike and stand before her.

  She’s so fucking beautiful. Her lips. Her chin. Her eyes.

  Her eyes are my reminder of why I can’t have her.

  I close mine for a second, and she steps away from me. When I open them, she’s crossing before my bike, and I follow her retreat.

  “I have a blanket,” I call out, pulling the roll from the space tucked under the seat and spreading it on the ground. It’s water-resistant on one side while flannel on the other. I stare at the back of Evie as she stares out at the lake. Her hip cocks to the side. Her arms cross in a way she’s wrapped them around herself. Her hair blows in the night breeze.

  “Come sit,” I state, breaking into whatever thoughts she has. Does she remember how we skinny-dipped? Does she recall that first night and her camper? Is she picturing how I proposed to her?

  Evie and I had our night in July that summer. It was sometime near October when she returned to me. On a cool night shortly after she showed up at the ranger station, and after I introduced her to my family, I brought her to where it started and asked her to marry me.

  It hadn’t gone exactly as I planned.

  “Are you sure you want to do this?” she nervously chuckled when I got down on one knee but hadn’t asked her anything yet.

  “Peach, I’ve been waiting for you my entire life. I just didn’t know it until we met.” Even the
n, I’d spent a few months wondering where she went before she’d returned. The memory feels strangely similar to this moment. She’s been gone a long time, though, and those old feelings just don’t exist as they did then. The newness of her. The prospect of our baby. A future with a family.

  She accepted my proposal once I finally asked, and we made love right here in the grass, despite the cooler evening temps. My wild girl was not opposed to sex in nature.

  I chuckle softly to myself, still waiting on Evie to sit.

  “What’s so funny?” she asks, turning toward me finally.

  “Just . . . memories.” I shake my head, but Evie slowly crooks the corner of her lips.

  “Tell me,” she prods.

  “Just remembering two crazy kids, horny and newly engaged.”

  Evie snorts, glancing back at the lake one more time. “We were hardly kids.”

  Back then, I’d turned thirty in Evie’s three-month absence while Evie was three years younger than me, but I’d done my time fooling around with random hookups and Dolores on the regular. My male-whoring days were getting tiresome by the time I’d met Evie, and I’d taken her pregnancy as a sign to settle down.

  Folding down to the blanket, I make myself comfortable. My legs stretch forward, crossing at the ankles, while my arms lean back, supporting me in a seated position.

  “Sit,” I say, patting the spot next to me. Evie finally concedes and walks to the blanket, which doesn’t feel large enough for both of us. She lowers next to me, mimicking my position a bit but placing her hands in her lap.

  “Want to skinny dip?” I tease, wondering if she’ll take the dare. “I promise to look for alligators first.”

  Evie chuckles quietly next to me. “Alligators on a mountaintop.” On instinct, my hand lifts, rubbing up her back, and she stiffens.

  Shit. “Sorry,” I mutter, placing my palm back on the flannel behind her. She shakes her head, dismissing what I’ve done, but it’s too late. Awkward silence surrounds us, and I notice Evie isn’t wearing her wedding band or engagement ring. The nakedness of her finger makes me melancholy. I don’t wear mine either, but I carry it with me all the time.