Bikers and Pearls (6 page)

They were obviously a gang of mean girls—all grown up. He shook his head. If that
was the kind of
gang
April wanted to belong to…well, they had less in common than it had first appeared.

Bull turned from the computer and stared as April walked her friend to the door. April
stood and watched her friend—probably to see that she got into her car safely.

Then April paused at the front desk as a mother and her young daughter walked toward
the shelves with the books that were on the counter. April stopped the pair and brought
them back. She reached into her jeans pocket and took out some money and handed it
to the librarian.

The small girl beamed at April.

She started walking in his direction.

April pulled her chair away from him and gave him one of those fake smiles that strangers
gave to one another. He should have known. She was just like all the rest. Her intense
talk with Jenna had transformed her from the way she’d been with him earlier.

Well, he’d had enough of her kind. He wasn’t about to change anything—not even for
her. No matter how intriguing or cute she was. Or how kind she was to little girls
in libraries.

She started gathering her things.

“You got to go?” he asked, knowing her answer.

She nodded. “Soon,” she said.

He took one last breath of her fragrance. Which was far weaker now that she was almost
sitting across the room from him. It was probably for the best. He was tired after
working on the fliers all afternoon. He didn’t even feel like needling her. Now, he
wanted to get home, too. In fact, he wished he hadn’t even ridden his Harley to the
library. Should have driven his Cadillac Escalade to avoid the cold and the wind.
“I was hoping we could finish the fliers together. Tonight,” he said.

“There are things that you don’t know,” she said.

“So, you’re giving up on the rally? Ben, too, huh?” he asked.

“No, I’m not. I was going to try to help with the golf tournament they are having
in—”

He cut her off. “I tried pointing it out last night.” He gathered his thoughts. “All
those other fundraisers will bring in a couple hundred dollars each. That’s good,
but we have a chance to bring in thousands. Maybe even tens of thousands. Even so,
you can’t get over a couple of leather jackets and a few ponytails?” He paused. “I
guess I was wrong, but I thought there was more to you. I thought you really cared.
Deeply. About Ben. I thought that was why you stayed with us in the first place.”

“I do care. I told you. You wouldn’t—”

“Well, why don’t you stay with us then?” He paused. “We need you.”

“Why? I’ve done nothing more than be a glorified note taker.”

“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about today. The other bikers and I can put this
whole rally together, but we need you to get us a deal on some extra liability insurance—mostly
for the rides we’ll be giving. The town won’t let us have the rally without it. But
we need the numbers by tomorrow night. We’re meeting at Marvin’s Bait and Tackle at
seven. They’re holding the back room open for us.”

She looked toward the door.

He had his answer.

“Hey,” he said, “why don’t I finish this up alone? You can leave if you like.”

She glanced around the library. The building was nearly empty because it was almost
time for the doors to close. “Why don’t you let me get copies made of the first one
we finished? Then you can work on the changes we discussed for the others,” she said.

Bull sent the copy to the one printer that was shared by all the computers. He reached
into his pocket to give her the money for the copies.

“I’ve got enough for them,” she said.

“No. I insist. Here.” He handed her some bills. “We need lots. I want to take care
of this for Ben.”

She took the money and walked away.

Away. That was what he needed—to get away, too.

He had been confused. She had helped that little girl at the counter, and she said
she wanted to help Ben, but April wanted to help in her comfort zone. She wasn’t willing
to risk anything. She was from one world. And he was from another.

The two of them were not going to happen.

…

April kept checking her watch as she made the copies. Never before had she seen such
a slow copier.

“We’re closing in three more minutes,” the librarian said as she pushed a cart against
the wall.

April knew that. In fact, she had already seen the security guard leave. Maybe he’d
be standing outside or securing the perimeter of the library. The building was in
the old part of town—the part that had burned. After the accident, the Rebels wanted
revenge against her father, so they set fire to his old hardware store, just a couple
blocks down the road from the library. The fire department was too small to handle
the blaze that quickly spread to the adjacent buildings, and much of the town went
up in smoke. And when it was all over, they discovered not everyone had the insurance
to rebuild like her father. She had spent years working on the guilt that she’d irrationally
developed as a child. Guilt about the damaged buildings, about this area turning into
the bad side of town, about their neighbors being left without businesses and incomes.
About all the pain that ensued. It really hadn’t been her fault at all.

Fifty-five, fifty-six, fifty-seven copies.

She remembered Jenna’s words.

“How do you ever expect to get the votes you need to join me at the Ladies League?
This was supposed to be your chance to work with them. On top of that, April, what
you’re doing here is dangerous. You don’t even know that guy.”

She shook her head. Jenna had some valid points. April didn’t know Bull. Not completely.
She could, however, remind Jenna how he’d helped her out at the steakhouse and how
he was helping Ben, but she couldn’t tell her that she was attracted to him. The problem
was, if she stayed with the bikers, she didn’t know when she would have another chance
to work with the ladies from the club.

The librarian, who was about her mother’s age, walked up behind April and touched
her sleeve. “Are you the Church’s daughter?”

“Yes, I am,” she said.

“I haven’t seen you since…well, it’s been a while,” she said.

“I don’t make it over to this side of town much,” April said and gave a polite smile.

The older woman seemed to search for words. “Honey, I’m glad you came back. You know
that fire was a long time ago.”

April nodded. It was this kind of blindsiding that kept April on her guard. The woman
was trying to do something generous, but it wasn’t helping. April had felt so alienated
as a child after the accident and the fire. Her family had been connected to something
awful.

That was the big reason April wanted to join Jenna at the Ladies League. The league
was a small-town Southern tradition. If April could join, it would mean that she would
belong there—really belong there. Even if no one else held the chaos against her,
April was scarred. Being a part of the Ladies League would help heal that broken piece
deep inside her.

“Don’t be a stranger, dear. Our library welcomes you,” the woman said and smiled.

April nodded. But small towns had long memories. Though her parents had healed somewhat
after retiring and escaping Summerbroook, the accident and fire still haunted them.
If her father ever found out about her involvement—with the rally and with Bull—well,
it just might be the thing that would cause him to have that fourth heart attack—one
that he couldn’t survive. If she lost him now, her picture-perfect dream might never
materialize. Sitting with them under one of the big trees in their yard, sipping sweet
tea. With a man she loved. With a man her parents knew was perfect for her. Who made
her perfectly happy.
Humph
. Though it didn’t look like that was ever going to happen, it was fun to daydream
about it.

Ninety-nine
, she counted.
One second, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten seconds. One hundred
copies
. That was enough for the night. If they needed more she’d come back tomorrow.

The glaring fluorescent lights went out in a grid pattern all across the library,
starting from the rear. Had Bull left yet? Now it was too dark to tell. There were
several exits, and she had been babysitting that dilapidated, old copy machine. She
grabbed the last of the pages and headed toward the door in the dim light that was
left.

“Have a nice evening, and, remember, come back,” the librarian said in a soft voice
as April opened the door.

She nodded at the older woman.

Once outside, April shivered. The parking lot was close to empty and almost dark,
except for the streetlight that was flickering over her car and the old minivan parked
next to her. There was no sign of any security guard. She opened her door, slipped
in, and locked herself inside. And it was she who’d delivered those personal safety
pamphlets at work. Now she was breaking all the rules.

As she was securing the copies on the seat next to her, she saw the librarian hop
into the minivan, back out, and leave.

April was alone. Jenna would not have approved. April herself didn’t approve. She
went places at night by herself all the time. Just not on this side of town. Something
gave her the creeps, and as soon as she turned the key in the ignition, her breath
caught in her throat. The engine made a complaining noise. She tried the key again
and got a series of clicks. She placed her head on her steering wheel. Who was she
going to call at this hour?

If only Bull had been a Southern gentleman like the guys at work, or Mr. Houseman
or the men at the civic league. Southern men walked ladies to their cars—even if they
didn’t need them to—even if the ladies were more capable than they were. But Bull
was nothing like the traditional Southern gentlemen she’d known all her life. Or at
least he didn’t look like one.

She remembered the twenty-four-hour towing service that was in the middle of town,
but she didn’t know the number. After entering four-one-one into her cell, she waited.
And then she heard an ominous beep. Her battery was dying.

Pick up, pick up, pick up.

“Signet Phone Information,” a pleasant voice answered. April asked for the number
and jotted it down on the back of one of the fliers.

“Thank you,” she said. The phone beeped again. She frantically pressed the numbers.
The phone on the other end rang, and hers beeped. The ring sounded again, and again,
her phone beeped.
Answer, please. Please let them answer.
Her phone beeped.

“Freddy’s Towing Service,” a voice drawled out.

“Yes. I need help.” She heard the urgency in her own voice. “My car won’t crank and
I’m at the library. Could you please come and help?” Her words were quick and came
out in a rapid-fire manner. There would only be a matter of seconds before she’d be
cut off.

“Ma’am, I couldn’t understand a word you said,” complained the slow-talking man on
the other end of the phone.

There was that sound again.

Almost as quickly as the first time, she spewed out the information for a second time.
She waited for the man’s response. Maybe he was writing down the address or something.

“Sir? Sir!” She looked at the face of her phone. No lights. She tried to turn it on
again, but she knew the persnickety phone too well. It wasn’t about to cooperate.
Why hadn’t she bought a charger for her car? Why, why, why? If only she’d had time
to charge it at home before she’d left for the library. But she was too worried about
her stupid jeans and fancy shoes. A lot of good they had done her tonight.

She sat in silence for a moment, contemplating her circumstances. It was unusually
cold that night, and she had left her house without a jacket in order to show off
her uncharacteristically flirty outfit. She was being stupid. The whole evening was
a mistake. It had started with vanity, had been peppered with attraction, and it was
ending with stupidity.

Just as she leaned her head back in frustration and dismay, a beam of light and a
rumbling noise rounded the corner of the library.

The next moment she was looking at the most beautiful sight in the world: Bull, the
man who hadn’t abandoned her. However, he was on his motorcycle. And without a helmet.
Fear for him mingled oddly with something else in her head. If he only knew about
how everything had changed for her and her family. She was sick and tired, though,
of being identified by her connection to that accident. At least with him, she had
a chance of being known by who she was. Not what she’d lived through. He probably
wouldn’t even understand, anyway—or want to because of his affiliation with the Rebel
Angels.

He pulled his bike alongside her car and motioned for her to lower her window.

“I wanted to see you to your car, but I was saving my work on that slow computer,
and you ran out like the place was on fire.” He looked at the wheels of the car. “What’s
wrong?” he asked.

“It won’t crank,” she said as she tried to control her voice. And wouldn’t he have
to mention the word
fire
.

He turned off his motor and dismounted the Harley like a knight from a black horse.

He was still as tall and dangerously handsome as she had first assessed, but she shouldn’t
be thinking about that at a time like this. She had only one overwhelming priority
right now, and that was to get home safely.

Though it seemed kind of counterintuitive to her, she suddenly felt a strange sensation
of security in his presence. The feeling didn’t make sense knowing all that she knew
about the devastation motorcycles can bring.

“Pop the latch. It’s on your left,” he said. She did, and he tucked his head under
the hood.

Moments later she heard something snap, and he was at her window again—this time holding
some kind of metal object.