Fire Inside

  “That’s what I told him,” I shared.

  “Good,” he clipped.

  “Uh, Hop, he’s a biker bigot and he’s, well… other kinds of bigot besides. I told you that before you met him,” I pointed out.

  “Yeah, you told me that but that was about how he’d be with me. I don’t give a fuck he makes a point and steps away from me after he shakes my hand. I give a fuck about him givin’ my woman shit and maybe makin’ her question bein’ with me. And when I say I give a shit, I mean in a big fuckin’ way.”

  Boy, not much escaped Hop.

  “He didn’t make me question it, Hopper,” I promised, then tried to lighten the mood. “And, just to say, it’s a little freaky how well you know women.”

  “Babe, best wool men ever pulled was lettin’ women think we think with our dicks. We pay a fuckuva lot of attention. We know your shit maybe more than you do because we live it right along with you and some of you try to make us eat it. It’s just that some of us choose not to get sucked in the drama and instead focus on getting laid regularly.”

  I felt my eyes get big right before I wrapped my arms around him and started giggling, but I managed to push through my giggles, “Honey, not sure you should share the brotherhood’s secrets.”

  “You talk, no woman will listen. They prefer to think a man’s brain is in his dick. Gives ’em something to bitch about.”

  “Again, freaking me out how well you know women,” I said, still giggling, and finally his face cleared and he smiled at me.

  Then his thumb swept my lips right before it drifted away and his head dropped so his mouth could brush them.

  When he lifted up again, he wasn’t smiling.

  “You packed and walked out,” he whispered.

  I stopped giggling and my teeth came out to graze my lower lip before I confirmed (again), “Yeah.”

  “Means a lot, baby.”

  It did. Absolutely.

  I was just glad he agreed.

  I tightened my arms around him but said nothing.

  Hop wasn’t done.

  “Means a lot you’re finally in my bed, too.”

  My hand slid up his back so my fingertips could play with his hair but I again said nothing.

  “It’ll be good to wake up with you here.”

  He was killing me.

  It felt exquisite but it had to stop before I melted and became one with his waterbed.

  “I have to share that I’m also a bit freaked about the fact you have a waterbed but, even through our various, sometimes vigorous activities, the waves didn’t toss us off.”

  He again gave me the subject change. His eyes lit with amusement and his hand moved down to the side of my neck so his thumb could stroke my throat.

  It felt really nice.

  “It’s waveless, Lanie.”

  “Bodies of water, even small ones, and waveless aren’t natural, Hop,” I noted.

  “Bein’ on the moon isn’t natural either, but man managed to do that,” he returned.

  “Being on the moon is about harnessing science and technology. Waveless waterbeds are about harnessing nature and that, by definition, is not natural,” I shot back.

  “Babe, you’re not lyin’ on a miracle,” he said through a lip twitch.

  “No, I’m lying under one.”

  His lips stopped twitching, his body went completely still, except his chin jerked back and his eyes started burning again.

  This all confirmed the fact that those five words actually did come out of my mouth.

  Damn.

  “Hop—”

  He cut me off. “You said it. Don’t pollute it.”

  I closed my mouth and his hand moved up, fingers driving into the hair at the side of my head, his thumb moving out to sweep my cheek, his face getting close, his body pressing into mine and his lips whispering, “You givin’ me this?”

  I knew what he meant. I was becoming fluent in Hop Speak but had already become fluent in Chaos Speak so I didn’t miss his question.

  I understood it completely.

  “This” meant me.

  “Hop—” I began.

  “Easy question, Lanie.”

  “No, it isn’t,” I argued because, well, it wasn’t!

  “Right, I’ll amend. You givin’ me a shot at havin’ this?”

  “Well…” I paused then thought, being naked in his bed, sharing stories and laughter, that it was safe to say, “Yeah.”

  “No, lady,” he shook his head. “You don’t understand me. Are you giving me a shot at havin’ this,” his thumb moved back over my cheek, “you. For real. Sharing. Building. Lookin’ at a future.”

  Okay, maybe I wasn’t yet fluent in Hop Speak.

  I squirmed again. “Hop—”

  “I want that,” he declared.

  It was my turn for my body to go still.

  “I’m forty years old, babe, but I don’t mind lookin’, takin’ a test drive. I’m also old enough to know, with you, I like what I see. I like what I feel. I like what I know. I like everything I learn. So I know I’m ready to work at takin’ it there with you. Havin’ kids, what I gotta know is, if you’re ready to work at takin’ it there with me.”

  After Hop came to my house to check on me and carry one suitcase down one flight of stairs (amongst other things), really, there was only one answer to that so I gave it to him.

  “I walked out on my mom and dad because of you, honey.”

  He held my eyes.

  Then he muttered, “You’re ready to work at takin’ it there with me.”

  “I think, after Dodge Ram Rescue and Bob Seger’s ‘You’ll Accomp’ny Me’, it’s been confirmed you’re real, so yes. I’m ready to work at taking it there with you.”

  There. I said it.

  God, I said it.

  And I meant it.

  His hand moved slightly so his thumb could drag along my lower lip as he growled, “Best decision you’ll make in your life, baby.”

  “Well, at least that’s firm… if cocky,” I joked, but I did it breathlessly.

  “No,” he said, then his hand moved so his face could disappear in my neck and he promised, his ’tache tickling my skin, “I’m about to get cocky. I’m already firm.”

  My nipples tingled as he pressed the proof of his second statement against my thigh.

  “Hop,” I breathed but said no more because his lips were moving down my chest.

  I was wriggling under him, my hands moving on him, but I stilled when his lips bypassed my breasts, moving through the valley between them and gliding across the scar under them, then down to glide along the one on my belly.

  I felt his lips move away and he called, “Lady.” I lifted my head to look down my body at him. He caught my eyes then he vowed quietly, “No regrets for you either. I’ll see to it. You got my word.”

  My entire chest got warm and I pressed my lips together momentarily before I gave it back.

  “I’ll do my best so you get the same from me, Hop.”

  I watched his head drop and then I watched his lips and mustache again trail the scar at my belly and I shivered a shiver that was good for a lot of reasons.

  He lifted his head and his eyes found mine.

  “Already know I got it, Lanie. Now open your legs, baby. I want that pussy.”

  I forgot to feel moved by the moment when a tremor rocked through me and all I could think about was opening my legs.

  So I did.

  Hop threw them over his shoulders, dipped his face to me and got what he wanted.

  So did I.

  And, if I wasn’t wrong, this happened for the both of us in a variety of ways.

  Chapter Ten

  That Works

  Two weeks later…

  “That shit has got to stop,” Hop announced in a growly voice, sounding pissed.

  He and I were in my kitchen doing the dishes. I’d made him fried beef cutlets and Mamaw’s fluffy mashed potatoes that were helped along to decadent by nixing the
milk and replacing it with a splash of heavy cream.

  And I’d just told him about things that were happening at work.

  It had been two good weeks with Hop. Our first week together as in together we spent every night in his bed or my bed, making love and talking after having dinner together.

  I discovered his broiled pork cops were the bomb.

  His saying, “That body of yours, baby, does not go with the way you cook and eat and pleased as fuck it doesn’t. Take you any way you come but if you came with me havin’ to eat a lot of salad, gotta admit, that would suck,” was even better.

  Obviously, when he had his kids last week, I didn’t spend the night. Instead, we had late night conversations which included phone sex and, on top of that, either Hop or I would call sometime during the day just to connect.

  That said, Hop had told me he’d decided to introduce his kids “slow-like” to the fact that I was going to be in their life.

  “We gotta have our time and you need to feel this is solid. Solid is also what I want communicated to them so gonna ease my kids into this the same way I’m easin’ you,” he’d said.

  They were his kids so it was his call. I didn’t debate the solidness of “us” mostly because, even though it felt good and was going great, we’d had a rocky start. I wasn’t fooling myself that I didn’t have issues to work through and we hadn’t been together for very long, so even though it was his call, I agreed with that call.

  More, I liked how he was protecting his kids against getting too deep into something that might harm them if it went bad.

  So easing into it would do, for all of us.

  Still, Molly had a dance recital last week and clearly Hop was not going to waste time easing everyone into things because he asked me to show. I liked his kids, I wanted to see Molly dance, I was feeling things solidify with Hop and I was doing this on a daily basis, so I agreed.

  We went separately, met there, and after it was over, I told Molly that Hop mentioned it to me, and since I wanted to see her dance, I came. She was tickled pink I did, which was gratifying. During the show, I sat by Hop with our knees brushing, which was more gratifying. And while Molly was dancing, I turned my head to see Hop’s smiling, proud profile, which was even more gratifying.

  What was not gratifying was the fact that Mitzi was there. Hop warned me she would be so I was somewhat prepared, but you can never be totally prepared for something like that.

  But it was worse than just being in the same room for the first time with your man’s ex.

  This was because I watched as, with an ease born of practice, they selected seats as far away from each other as possible, and they did this without even glancing at each other. Since Hop had the kids, Cody came with his dad, and although he went to say hi to his mom, he sat with Hop and me.

  This felt unpleasant because, although it came naturally to Hop and Mitzi, I suspected it wasn’t all that fun for Cody. I also suspected both Hop and Mitzi knew it, didn’t like it, but had no intention of doing anything about it.

  Further, I chanced a glance at Mitzi at a time she was looking our way, her mouth tight, her eyes on Cody. I didn’t have much of an opportunity to take in her bleached, teased out but still attractive biker babe hair or her hard face that managed to be very pretty, before her gaze shifted to me and I felt the glacial sting. I fought the chill, gave her a small, noncommittal smile and aimed my eyes back to the stage.

  I didn’t talk to Hop about this because there was nothing to be said. It probably wouldn’t surprise him his ex gave me an icy look. That was what exes did and considering Mitzi’s reputation and what Hop said about her, it was not out of character so I didn’t need to get him riled up by sharing.

  However, although nothing nasty happened, the night was underlined with an uncomfortable feeling, It made me sad to think that not only Mitzi and Hop had to perform this avoidance dance every time they were around each other, but the kids had to endure it too.

  This, in turn, made me wonder about my father. I wondered if he’d partially made the decision to stay with Mom so Lis and I wouldn’t have to choose sides.

  If this entered his mind, it didn’t excuse what he’d been doing. But it still made me think.

  The kids went back to Mitzi after school on Monday and now it was again Hop and me, dinner, chatting, sometimes TV and then bed.

  But while Hop rinsed the dishes and put them in the dishwasher and I put away the food, tidied and wiped down the counters, I told him about my old agency making overtures to steal my big new account. I also shared a bit about how they’d repeatedly been trying to undercut me in an effort to drive me into a merger.

  I wasn’t surprised at Hop’s firm, biker badass response. I hadn’t been spending time with Chaos and my best friend, who was married to the president of the Club, and not come to know how these men worked.

  Therefore, I moved to the sink, threw the sponge in it, turned to my man and said, “Hop, honey, I told you because it’s a pain and I needed to vent. I didn’t tell you so you’d do something about it.”

  Hop shoved a plate in the dishwasher, pushed the rack in and closed the door with his boot before turning to me.

  “Lanie, baby, that might be so, but my woman isn’t dumb. You may not have been officially folded into the life but you been around the Club enough to know exactly what tellin’ me that shit is gonna lead me to do.”

  “This stuff with my old company is halfhearted and eventually it’ll die down,” I explained.

  “Don’t give a fuck if it’s halfhearted but I do know it’s gonna die down,” he declared.

  Oh dear.

  He wasn’t backing down. He was intending to intervene. Biker badass against ad agency.

  This was not good.

  “I meant naturally, Hop,” I protested, trying to cut him off at the pass. “Not them backing off because my man and his biker brethren pay them a threatening visit.”

  “Chaos doesn’t make threats, babe.”

  Gah!

  “Hop!” I cried, quickly losing patience as was my wont. “Seriously. I do not want you to get involved. I didn’t tell you so you’d get involved. And, most importantly, if you do,” I leaned into him, “it’s going to tick me off. Like, bad.”

  He grinned at me like I amused him and asked, “Like, bad?”

  “Don’t make fun of me,” I snapped.

  “Don’t be cute and I won’t make fun of you,” he returned, still grinning.

  “I’m not being amusing, Hopper Kincaid, I’m being very serious,” I warned. “This is my career and I’ve worked hard to make a name in this business. I’ve worked hard to build my agency. It means something to me,” I shared. “I can’t have a bunch of badass bikers stomping around in their motorcycle boots and leather cuts giving me a reputation I do not need.”

  The grin faded clean from his face and it got hard before he asked, “A reputation you don’t need?”

  Uh-oh.

  He took that the wrong way.

  “You know that wasn’t what I meant,” I said.

  “Then, babe, it’d be good you tell me what you did mean and do it real fuckin’ quick,” Hop shot back and I stared at him as an unpleasant burn hit my belly.

  Then I said softly, “That isn’t cool.”

  “Damn straight it isn’t,” he retorted and I shook my head.

  “No. You don’t understand me. That isn’t cool, not even close to cool, Hop, that you’d think for one second that’s what I meant.”

  “Again, lady, you need to tell me what you meant.”

  “Not once,” I pulled in a calming breath before going on, “not once, Hopper, not since that very first moment when Brick walked into my house with Tyra, when she told me Elliott was making whacked decisions and then you showed later to put me on the back of your bike and take me to Ty-Ty’s, have I ever, ever,” I leaned in again, “done one stinking thing to indicate I was a biker bigot.”

  “Yeah, until you just told me you’d get a repu
tation, I get involved in your life,” he returned, not letting it go.

  “No, I didn’t say that. I said I’d get a reputation if you got involved in my business,” I amended sharply. “And it wouldn’t matter if you were a biker or a businessman, Hop. I’m a businesswoman and we’ve come a long way but it’s still a man’s world and any man sticking his nose into my business makes it look like I can’t see to my business. I’ve worked too damned hard to prove I’m good at what I do, to demand credit for my work when some ass was taking it from me, to prove I can manage accounts, staff, an entire agency, to compete for business and best the competition, to have another man, no matter he’s my man, I care about him and he thinks he’s looking out for me, make me look like I’m not strong enough to do it.”

  I was glaring at him and breathing heavy when I was done with my speech so it took a few moments for me to see the hard had gone out of his face and his eyes had warmed.

  He understood me.

  I didn’t care.

  What he said was bad and I was still ticked.

  He made a move to take a step toward me but since I was still ticked, I stepped back. He stopped and his eyes locked on mine.

  “Not lost on me the way you live,” he said low, his hand swinging out to indicate my house. “Your office. Your clothes. The sweet ride you drive. Your parents. That fuckin’ condo that was three times the size of the one I gave my kids.”

  “And?” I prompted acidly.

  “Eventually we were gonna have this conversation,” he explained, but it didn’t explain a thing.

  “Why?” I asked.

  “Babe, you are not of my world,” he informed me.

  “Really?” I retorted. “So do I have a Biker Babe Lanie Clone I don’t know about who’s been going to hog roasts and shooting the breeze in the Compound the last seven years?” I asked sarcastically.

  He rested his weight in a hand on the edge of the sink and said in warning voice, “Tone it down, Lanie. We gotta talk this out but we don’t have to do it ugly.”