STRIKE: Storm Runners Motorcycle Club 2 (SRMC) (14 page)

She turned, looking at her legs and arms, how the muscle tone was strong and lean. Before she’d taken the undercover assignment, she’d been less toned. Hard to believe that dancing was a more intense workout than patrolling the streets all day, but she supposed the activities used different muscles.

Grace turned from her perusal of herself when she heard the chipper voices of the women returning. “We brought jewelry too, Gracie,” Mandi said. Grace forced a smile on her face. Looking good was one thing, but shopping was something else entirely. Resigned, she moved away from the mirror and reached for the first of many necklaces.

CHAPTER 17

A
fter Mandi was safe at home, Grace headed home and changed into sweats and a t-shirt. Tom was coming over, but Chinese food and talking over the case wasn’t exactly a setting for romance and she saw no reason to be uncomfortable.

He knocked exactly at seven and she opened the door, smiling to see the stuffed bags in his hands. The heavy, steamy scent of Chinese food wafted up and had him smiling when her stomach growled with hunger.

“It’s just the two of us,” she said, reaching to take two of the bags from him and set them on her dining room table.

“I know,” he said, “but I wanted to make sure there was something you liked.” He leaned in and kissed her cheek. “Besides, anything you don’t eat, I’ll finish.”

Grace raised a skeptical eyebrow. There was no way one person could finish that much food. He set the food in his hands on the table as she did the same, then turned to shrug off his leather jacket and hang it on the rack by the door.

“Maybe not tonight, but this isn’t the last time I’ll be in your place,” he said, a devilish grin curling his lips. That twist made her blush, so she turned away to take plates and glasses out of the cabinet. The white china plates with wavy edges had been a housewarming present from her grandmother; the glasses were reminders of a wine festival she’d gone to with friends from college over the summer. Just holding them in her hands made her smile.

“I like that.”

“What?”

“When you smile. Lights you up. You don’t look happy often enough.” His mouth tripped over the compliment, and she felt her cheeks light up. He took the plates out of her hands and started pulling containers from the bags. “What would you like?”

“Maybe a little of everything,” she said. Her appetite had been riding high after the excitement of the night before. “But skip any shellfish.”

“I don’t like it either,” he said. “I’m pretty much strictly a General Tso’s guy.”

“Then why did you ask if I wanted Chinese?”

“Seemed standard, and I do like General Tso’s. Oh, and the steamed buns too.” He put heaping helpings of both on one plate, then started opening other boxes. “If there’s anything you particularly like, though, I’ll give it another shot.”

“Thanks.” She poured white wine into both glasses, already anticipating the fresh, crisp flavor. “It’s good to see you’re adventurous.”

“Oh baby, you have no idea.” Tom’s grin was infectious and she found herself smiling again. It was certain they’d circle around to harder topics before the night was over, but it was almost perfect to just be comfortable with him again, like she was when he thought she was Dakota and everything was simple.

He decorated her plate with a variety of food, then carried both over to the table while she took a moment to appreciate how his t-shirt stretched over his back, molding to the muscles that her hands itched to touch.

Tom looked out of place at her country table, the pale pine wood delicate and soft in the face of his hard masculinity. The pitcher of roses on the table and the delicate white plates of food added to the picture that seemed so counter to his presence. Still, Grace thought she could stand to see him sitting there more often. Was it her imagination, or had he smiled more in the last week, compared to when she’d met him? Either way, she’d like to see more of that too.

“Come on and eat before it gets cold.”

“I should have asked, do you like white?” She held up the wine and took a sip of hers, closing her eyes at the cool slip of liquid down her throat.

“I like anything you give me,” he said, rising and taking the glass, then waiting for her to sit. “Let’s make a deal. No talk about bad guys at the table. Tell me something about you instead.”

“I’ll trade you.”

“Trade me what?”

“I’ll tell you a story if you tell me a story. You can choose the topic.”

He looked intrigued. “Deal. Tell me about your first kiss.”

“Oh god,” Grace laughed and set her elbow on the table, covering her mouth with her hand. “That’s such an embarrassing story. Are you sure I can’t convince you to ask about my prom or something less horrible?"

“That bad?”

“It wasn’t bad. It was just so strange. It was eighth grade and I was at the park with my best friend and the boy I was dating.” She speared a piece of chicken and a mushroom with her fork and gestured instead of eating. “You know how dating is at that age. Your parents take you to movies and you go to places that you can walk to together. That’s about all the interaction you have outside of school.”

“I know what you mean,” he said, taking another bite while he watched her with eager eyes.

“So the three of us are walking around and my friend finds a puppy. She goes to play with it—and later I found out it was to give us time alone. At that moment, I just figured, hey, puppy. Cute.” She laughed at the memory of her friend knelt down, petting the chubby golden puppy on the tummy while chatting with its owner. Meanwhile, Joseph—her boyfriend, took her hand. “So I’m hand in hand with Joey and we’re walking up this hill. It’s close to sunset and we both knew that he had to be home pretty soon—his parents were really serious about curfew.”

“Yours weren’t?”

“Safe town. Trusting parents. Besides, I’ve always been the textbook definition of a good girl.”

“Makes sense.”

“Joey turns to me and we’re looking at each other and I’m so excited. I know it’s about to happen. The first kiss. The butterflies in my stomach are flapping until I honestly thought I’d be sick, but when he pressed his lips against mine, I smiled.”

“Smiled?”

“Yeah. I was just so relieved that it was happening and that I hadn’t thrown up all over him.

Tom’s laugh was rich and warm. “I don’t see what’s so horrible about that.”

“It wasn’t the first part of the kiss that was bad. It’s what happened next. See, his brother had told him the best way to kiss was to try to tickle the back of the girl’s throat with your tongue—and I don’t know whether he was messing with him or whether he really believed that—but Joey thrusts his tongue into my mouth so deep that I gagged and then…” she trailed off, setting down her fork and reaching for the wine. “Oh god. I bit him.”

“What?” Tom’s chuckle turned into an open-mouthed guffaw. “You’re kidding.”

“I wish I was. I bit down on his tongue and the next thing you know, there’s blood in my mouth. I gag on that, too and Joey starts screaming.”

“Fuck,” Tom said, shaking his head. “How bad was it?”

“Not that bad, thankfully. But it wasn’t the best way for his parents to find out we’d been smooching in the park. He wasn’t allowed back out unchaperoned after that for a few months. Not that he wanted to anyway. The second I bit down on his tongue, he was done with me.”

“That’s horrible,” Tom laughed. “I’m hoping you didn’t get a reputation out of it.”

“Not with any of the boys I wanted to date,” she said, then paused to take a bite of chicken, chewing as she thought. “It could have been worse.”

“How?”

“Well, the taste of his blood almost made me throw up. Besides, the boy with the dog ended up being my best friend’s first kiss a month later.”

“How’d that go?”

“Better than mine.”

Tom shook his head. “I wasn’t a dumb kid like the one you kissed. I’d have let you try again and gone for the sympathy vote while my mouth was healing.”

“The sympathy vote?”

“A girl as hot as you? I’d have been all worked up at the thought of trying again and I’d have spent my convalescence making sure you were excited to try again too.” She studied his face and really believed that he meant it. Though she was aware Tom was attracted to her, it still surprised her every time he mentioned it. She’d had boyfriends and lovers, but no one had ever seen her as so purely sexual.

No one ever looked so hungry for her.

“Tit for tat time.”

“I know, I know. Mine isn’t nearly as good as yours, though.”

“I want to hear it anyway.” Every piece of personal information that she teased out of him felt like a victory.

“My first middle school party, they were playing seven minutes in heaven. I got sent into the closet with the hottest girl in eighth grade, Becky Scully.”

“And she fell madly into your arms and succumbed to your charms?”

“No.” He smiled and she wondered how it was possible that any woman could resist that grin. “She pouted about being stuck with a lowly sixth grader and then pushed me against the wall and smacked me on the lips. One hard kiss.”

“That was all?”

“For a few minutes. I asked her if she wanted to try again, and she said she’d rather just wait out the time. Seconds are ticking by and she’s looking at me—and then she asks if that was my first kiss.”

“What did she say when you told her?”

“She got all thoughtful for a second, like she was remembering hers. I’m sure she’d had more than one by then. Rotating boyfriends, that’s what Becky liked. A new guy to carry her books in the hall every week. But she gestures to me.” Tom raised his hand and moved his fingers in a come hither motion. “I move closer and she takes me by the shirt and pulls me forward. Then she gives me the best kiss I’d have for the next four years.”

“That good?”

“Long, sweet and she didn’t gag me with her tongue.” Grace laughed, covering her mouth to keep from showcasing the broccoli she was eating. “Yeah, it had that going for it. Anyway, I walked out of the closet with stars in my eyes for Becky Scully, just like every other boy in that school.”

“Did you ever kiss her again?”

“God, no. That was like charity work for good ol’ Becks. The next year she went to high school and fell in love with the sophomore quarterback of the JV team.”

“They get married and have lots of chubby babies?”

“No,” he said, and reached over to spear one of her mushrooms. “She dumped him when he went away to college, got serious about volunteering at a nursing home and went to some college on the east coast. I heard she went to medical school, but I haven’t seen her since the day she graduated.”

“Did you date a lot in high school?” Grace just wanted him to talk more about his life like this. Casual and happy, not cloaked in lies and the impenetrable wall she saw in him whenever she pushed for information he wasn’t ready to give.

“Some,” he said, “but I was more interested in the club, even then.”

“That’s understandable, given your dad’s position.” She’d hesitated before mentioning his father, but it couldn’t be off limits if they were going to spend time together and get acquainted as their real selves.

He nodded, sliding his fork into the pile of rice on his plate and plucking out a few grains. “You can’t officially become a prospect until you’re 18, but—.” Grace raised her hand, cutting him off.

“Wait, what’s a prospect?”

“A prospect is kind of like a pledge for a fraternity. We like them enough to give them a shot, but there’s no guarantee they’re making it into the club.”

“What determines who gets in?”

“Loyalty is the primary factor. The club comes first.”

“Before anything else? What about family?”

“That’s the thing that outsiders don’t understand—the club is family. We’re a unit. When one of the guys marries, the woman is part of the family, too.”

“But not part of the club.”

“No. We don’t have any female members. But they’re protected and we treat them with respect. My brother Jack married a nice girl a few months ago, and she’s around all the time now.”

“Is that hard to get used to?”

“Nah. Lots of women going in and out anyway. We have parties and girls pour in like beer from a keg. But she matters to him, so she matters to us. It’s that kind of family. Even her friend Carly lives on the property now.” He stopped talking abruptly and shook his head. “Yeah, loyalty is what matters most. If you’re loyal to the club, we’re loyal to you.”

“Her friend counts as family too?”

“We took her out of a bad situation.”

“Good.” She smiled to think of an anonymous woman being saved by rough and tumble bikers.

“How do you find out whether a man is loyal?”

“Observe what he does. How he acts. Whether he pitches in and shows up and contributes. We’ve been opening a few local businesses and you can tell who’s interested in building up the club and who isn’t. That’s another thing—some clubs just want bodies, but we want people who bring something to the table. Humor, hard work, intelligence, the ability to juggle—something that makes the guy more than just another body in a leather jacket.”

“What do you bring to the table?”

_____

She leaned back in her chair and her t-shirt molded to her breasts. It was distracting and he swallowed thickly before he answered. “Dad always said I was the happiest guy to have around. I made people laugh and made them feel good.”

“Not anymore?” One thing Tom liked about her was that she picked up on tones and inflections. He could say what he meant in few words and Grace would know the right thing to say or ask. Outside of the Storm Runners execs, he’d never had that experience with another person.