Chapter Four
“I’M GOING TO slaughter you,” Finlay said to Penny over the phone the next afternoon as she stood by the kitchen counter, cracking eggs into a bowl.
“Why? You needed to cut loose, and it’s not like you got into any trouble.”
“Oh no?” She began beating the eggs. “What would you call telling Bullet Whiskey that I wanted to see him naked? You know I can’t hold my liquor. You’re my sister. You should stop me from doing bad things.”
“Then you’ve got the wrong sister, because I was thrilled that you finally had some fun, Fin. You haven’t gone out and had any fun since you lost Aaron.”
Finlay added more ingredients to the bowl and beat them as hard and fast as she could. She did not want to think about Aaron, or how long it had been since she’d been interested in a man. She’d finally gotten some perspective on Aaron’s death. And talking about the fact that she hadn’t dated much since she’d lost him wouldn’t change it. She only wanted to figure out how to walk into Whiskey Bro’s today and look Bullet in the eye without feeling like she was standing there buck naked now that she’d revealed her innermost thoughts.
“You’re baking,” Penny said.
“Of course I’m baking! Didn’t you hear me? I told Bullet I wanted to see him naked. And I knew I was saying it when it came out. It wasn’t like I was too drunk to think straight. I was just drunk enough to think straight and tell the truth.” She had always turned to cooking when she was emotional. When she’d lost Aaron she’d come up with five new recipes in one weekend, and when they’d lost their father she’d baked enough desserts for three homeless shelters in the first five days. It was a wonder she didn’t weigh three hundred pounds.
Penny laughed. “Aren’t you the one who preaches honesty?”
“Yes, but I’m working for his family, and he’s the kind of guy who probably sleeps with women like other guys eat chips. And you know I am not that kind of girl.”
“Maybe not, but how do you know he’s like that? I’m so glad you moved home, by the way. You really have been out of the real world for too long. There’s more to life than just work, Fin. And besides, be careful what you say. Maybe I’m one of those girls. I’m no saint.”
“I’m sorry.” Finlay set the bowl aside and sank down to a chair at the table. She knew Penny wasn’t the kind of girl who slept with lots of guys, but her sister did have a more active sex life than she did. Then again, didn’t most socially active twentysomething women?
“Fin, it’s been years since you lost Aaron. Why can’t you explore a little?”
“I did explore, remember? Last year?” The last time she’d had sex was at the end of last year, and it hadn’t gone well. She hadn’t felt any pleasure, and definitely not the type of connection she should have. That experience had been the catalyst to her decision to move back home. Even with Isabel’s friendship, she’d been lonely. If she wasn’t whole enough to love a man, then she could at least be near her sister, who loved her unconditionally.
“I know, but one bad experience does not mean that you won’t find a connection with someone else. Listen, Fin, I’ve had more sex than you have, and I’m four years younger than you. Maybe you should admit to remembering everything. Tell Bullet the truth, that you think about sleeping with him. Go out with him. Heck, sleep with him if you want to. This is your life and your body, and no one is going to judge you, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“I’m not worried anyone will judge me. I just…I can’t tell him that. I don’t even know if I want to sleep with him. I just know that he makes me confused, and hot. Definitely hot. But that doesn’t mean I need to jump his bones.”
“Then you could lie and say it was a minor lapse in judgment due to alcohol consumption, or just act like you don’t remember anything from last night. He’ll probably believe that. And don’t be embarrassed, which I know you will be. It’s not like he knows you well enough to realize that the side he saw last night has been kept under lock and key for years.”
“Ugh. Why does everything sound so easy when you say it?”
“Because it is. You have choices. Lie or be honest. I personally think you should take a ride on the Bullet train and then figure it out. What do you have to lose?”
“Only my mind. I can’t believe my baby sister is telling me to sleep with a biker.”
“Hey, you’re the one who wants to get naked with him. I’m just being supportive. Besides, I like the Whiskeys. I’d date one of them in a second.”
“How are we even sisters?” Finlay laughed. “You jump into things with your eyes closed, and I have no idea what I want. All I know for sure is that he’s got this way of looking at me, and it makes me nervous, but the good kind of nervous, you know? With Aaron I felt sparks, but this is like lightning. And I don’t understand it, or know what to make of it. He’s everything I never wanted. You know me. Clean-cut guys all the way. But I haven’t been able to stop thinking about him since I saw him at Tru and Gemma’s wedding with their kids when he made that ridiculous pass at me. Remember?”
“I’ll never forget that one. Heck, I want you to sleep with him just so I know if he really is a Bullet train.”
They both laughed.
“Listen,” Penny said in that I-have-all-the-answers-little-sister voice that Finlay knew so well. “You’re curious because he’s tough and confident and strong. He’s everything you are—”
“What? Have you lost your mind? I’m none of those things. I’m like a flower and he’s a lawn mower.”
“You’re so wrong. You’re one of the strongest women I know. When we lost Dad, you were my rock. And now you’re here. Do you know how much courage it takes to pick up your life and start over?”
“Do you know how much courage it takes to open your own ice cream store with your inheritance and have no idea if you’ll sink or swim?”
“See?” Penny said. “We are definitely sisters, ’cause you’re doing the same thing with your catering company. Will you bring me some of whatever you’re making?”
“Sure. They’re cookies. I’m going to spend the morning choosing new appliances for the bar, and this time when I go there, I’m not going to run like a scared kitten into the kitchen. I’m going to pretend the customers are my catering clients, and put myself at ease.”
“In other words, you’re going to distract them from your blond hair, blue-eyed goody-two-shoes image with food.”
“Pretty much. But really, it’s about distracting me, not them.”
“Throw some jeans on, and a pair of boots. That’ll help you fit in.”
“This is about me being comfortable, and I’m comfortable in skirts and dresses. I’ve got this. You’ll see. I’ll come by before I head over to the bar.”
After she ended the call, she noticed her message light was on and scrolled to her text messages. She didn’t recognize the number, but when she opened the text and read it—Here when you need me. B—she realized it was the message Bullet had sent her last night, and lightning ricocheted inside her.
She stared at the text, thinking about the way he’d plowed into the bar last night and had dragged them all out of there, no questions asked. Was that the way the Whiskeys did things? Or was that just Bullet’s way? What if she hadn’t been tipsy? Would he have let her stay to find her own way home?
Would I have wanted him to?
She added his name to her contacts, then set about making the cookies. She mixed and kneaded, rolled, and cut, creating dozens of motorcycles, leather jackets, and boots. She was excited to see the customers’ faces when they tasted her special recipe. Yes, it’s the customers I’m hoping love them. Not Bullet. Nope. Not him.
Yeah, right. I can’t even lie to myself!
While the cookies baked, she shopped online for appliances, comparing prices, sizes, and warranties. She called the companies and negotiated discounts for her top three choices, printed out the spec sheets, and put them in a folder alongside the budget she and Dixie had come up with. She and Dixie were meeting again Friday morning to discuss the kitchen renovation.
After the cookies cooled, she took her time decorating them, copying pictures from the Internet to define the motorcycle parts from the seats and fuel tanks (which she’d had no idea was the big thing in front of the seat), to the spokes on the wheels and fenders. As she studied and copied, she learned the locations of shock absorbers and other mechanical parts, making mental notes to try larger motorcycle cookies so she could include those details. She used black frosting on the jacket- and boot-shaped cookies, added silver zippers to the jackets and soles to the leather boots. She wrote WHISKEY BRO’S or WB’s on each one, and made a special cookie for Bullet. Then she set them carefully on her pink catering trays, wrapped them up, adding her standard pink ribbons with FINLAY’S printed on them. She changed into a pretty coral-colored dress, and because Penny might be right, she wore her brown leather knee-high boots.
She stuffed her folders and phone into her bag and hoisted it over her shoulder, taking one last look around her living room. Her gaze caught on a yellow sticky note on her calendar. She plucked the calendar from the coffee table, laughing and shaking her head as she read what could only be a note from Bullet, written in red ink and stuck to that coming Friday. This is when you need me.
She vacillated between smiling and stewing nervously all the way to Penny’s ice cream shop. When she arrived, she was in a smiling stage. She breezed in the door, the bells chiming overhead, and it took her sister less than thirty seconds to say, “Holy crap. You either got laid or you’re about to.” Penny looked at her watch. “It’s five thirty. I’m going with about to get laid.”
Finlay wrinkled her nose. “Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?” She handed her a bag of cookies.
“Mom’s too far away to kiss, but I do lots of dirty things with my mouth.” She stuck out her tongue and wiggled it. Their mother had moved to Montana two years ago and had since remarried.
“Ew! Pen!”
Penny peeked into the bag and inhaled. “Ah, sugary goodness. I am so glad you’re back.”
“You run an ice cream store. You can have sugar anytime you want.”
Penny bumped her with her hip and said, “But not cookies made with love by my favorite sister. Now, about getting laid…”
“Not happening. I’m just happy, that’s all.”
“Because…?”
Finlay didn’t know exactly what Bullet meant by her needing him on Friday, but she knew if she said anything to Penny she’d push her to explore, so instead she said, “Even though it freaks me out, it’s easier knowing that he knows I have thought about him as more than just some pushy guy.”
“You always did love open communication. You get that from Dad. Remember what he used to say when we’d go out and give him vague answers about where we were going?”
“‘How can I keep you safe if I don’t know where you’re going?’” they both said in unison.
“I miss him,” Penny said. “I think he’d like knowing we are both here in Peaceful Harbor, and doing well.”
“He knows.” Finlay hugged her. She’d always believed that her father was watching over them. They’d been close to their parents, and when their mother had moved away because the memories of their father made it too hard for her in Peaceful Harbor, she and Penny had understood. And when she fell in love with another man, they were happy for her. Though neither believed their mother would ever love anyone the way she had their father. He’d been funny, loving, and he worked hard to support their family. He was one of the hardest workers at the power plant.
“I’ve got to go. I have a lot to do today,” Finlay said, and headed for the door. “I have to start menu planning!”
“Fun, fun. Just make sure there’s room on your menu for dessert.” Penny winked. As Finlay walked out the door, she called after her, “That means sex!”
Finlay spun around, mortified that the woman walking by had heard what her sister had said. “Penelope Anne!” She glared at Penny.
Penny thrust her hips forward while pulling her arms back and made a face like she was in the throes of an orgasm.
Great. Now she was thinking about Bullet and sex.
As she drove toward the bar, she couldn’t help wondering what Bullet, who was all power and forward motion, would be like in bed. He’s a Bullet train. Her stomach fluttered, and her pulse quickened. No, no, no. She tried to think about work, cookies, the cars on the road. Anything other than Bullet. But his seductive, demanding eyes plagued her. And now, thanks to Penny, so did the rest of his body.
I want to see you without your shirt on…I know I want to see you nake—
Shivers tickled up her spine.
This cannot be happening.
Bullet’s raspy voice slithered through her mind. Don’t fight it, Finlay. You know you want to take me for a ride.
She shoved her hand beneath the wrapping that covered the cookies, grabbed one of the motorcycle cookies, and shoved it into her mouth. Three hundred pounds, here I come.
BULLET SLID A glass of beer across the bar to Lance “Crow” Burke, one of the Dark Knights. His family owned Mid-Harbor Housing Supply and Renovation, and Bullet had known him since they were kids. He had pitch-black hair and angular features, almost too angular, like a model—hence his road name, Crow. Asking him to come in and talk had been a double-edged sword for Bullet, as Crow had a reputation for being a womanizer, and he’d always had a thing for Dixie. Both Dixie and their mother, Red, were waitressing tonight, which Crow was enjoying far too much.
“About that project I mentioned,” Bullet said to get his attention off his sister. He’d hoped Finlay would show up at some point, but either he’d pissed her off or she was sleeping off a hangover, because he hadn’t heard a peep from her. But that didn’t stop him from thinking about her every damn minute of the day.
“The kitchen, right?” He took a swig of his beer. “Dixie mentioned it a few weeks ago.” He glanced over his shoulder at Dixie again, then turned back to Bullet. “She said y’all are doing some renovations in the kitchen, but she wasn’t sure what you’d need. She also said not to do anything unless I spoke to her.”
“She’s busy,” Bullet said. He had agreed to let Dixie manage the renovations, hiring, the whole shebang, but after seeing Finlay measuring and moving so quickly, he wanted to make sure things got done without holding up her plans.
“Still, Bullet. You’re a force to be reckoned with, but that one?” He glanced at Dixie again and whistled. “I’m not dumb enough to go against the fire in her belly.”
Bullet flattened both hands on top of the bar and leaned across it, bringing them eye-to-eye. “Don’t think about her body parts, got it?”
Crow laughed and took another drink.
Dixie stalked over to the bar. “B, I need two whiskey sours, one Heiny, and one Coors.” She set her hand on her hip, and her features softened as she faced Crow. “Hey there. Have you given any thought to the renovations I mentioned?”
Crow’s appreciative smile practically slapped Bullet in the face. “You know I always give thought to your propositions.”
Dixie rolled her eyes.
“Cut it out, Crow,” Bullet warned.
Crow pulled something out of his back pocket and handed it to Dixie. “It’s all there, babe. Everything you asked for. Prices, timelines.” As he lifted the beer to his lips, he eyed Bullet, as if to say, Calm down. I’m riding a fine line and you have no reason to pound the shit out of me.
Bullet leveled the smirk on his face with a dark stare before turning his attention to filling Dixie’s drink order. He wanted to see that damn list, but the truth was, this was Dixie’s area to manage. He didn’t need to piss her off any more than he already had.
“Jesus, you two. Cut the shit,” Dixie said, and stalked off to help another customer.
It was a constant job keeping his family safe, but it was one Bullet was good at, even if it ruffled their feathers. He couldn’t do anything about the way Dixie dressed in skinny jeans, Daisy Dukes, miniskirts, half or tight shirts, and boots, all the things guys got off on, but he could yank the men’s leashes when they needed reining in.
He filled several drink orders, talked with his usual customers, and shot the shit with Crow, all the while keeping one eye on the front door in case Finlay showed up.
“I hear Penny’s sister is helping y’all get the kitchen up and running,” Crow said. “What’s she like?”
As if beckoned by the stars, Finlay backed into the bar in one of her sexy short dresses, carrying some sort of tray in each arm and with a big bag over her shoulder.
“Who is that?” Crow’s gaze flamed as he drank her in.
“Eyes back in your head. It’s Finlay.” Bullet came out from behind the bar as she practically twirled, her dress whisking around her thighs. She almost ran right into him. He grabbed the trays to keep them from falling out of her hands.
Every eye in the frigging place was watching her, including his.
“Whoa!” She smiled up at Bullet. “Sorry. I didn’t see you there.”
Her eyes sparkled with happiness, and he felt himself falling into them. He focused on the trays to keep from making a fool of himself. “What’s all this?”
“Cookies,” she said cheerfully as she walked around him and took a tray from his hands. She set it on the bar, then turned back for the other, setting it beside the first. She plopped her bag on a barstool beside Crow and began taking things out of it—pink napkins and plates that read FINLAY’S in swirly white letters, and at least a dozen tiny pink notepads with the same logo at the top.
“What’s going on, lollipop?” Bullet asked as she untied a pink ribbon from around one of the trays.
She stepped in close, surprising him, and motioned for him to lean down. The scent of warm vanilla and sugar seeped beneath his skin, and it wasn’t from the cookies.
“I know I need to feel comfortable here, and I also need to get to know your customer base so I can figure out the best menus for them. Cookies are a great ice breaker.” She grabbed something wrapped in pink tissue paper from a tray and handed it to him. “This one is yours. I hope you love it! But if you don’t, it’s okay. I have thick skin.”
She spun on her sexy-as-sin boot heels and walked around to each table, delivering her goodies.
There was nothing thick about Finlay Wilson. The muscles in Bullet’s neck knotted up as she flitted from table to table, smiling and chatting, touching the arms and shoulders of each customer as she leaned in close to catch every word they said. The men ate up her attention. The quiet ones became motormouths, the dicks shamefully leered, and she made fast friends with the women. His fingers curled into fists, stopping short of crushing the gift she’d given him.
He didn’t have time for gifts. He needed to draw some very dark lines in the sand. Fuck, he needed a goddamn backhoe.
He strode across the floor, eyes locked on Finlay. His Finlay. Yeah, he might not have the right to claim her, but he didn’t care. In his mind she was already his, whether she knew it or not. He stepped around a table and Red came out of nowhere, blocking his path.
Standing before him in a black Whiskey Bro’s shirt, black jeans, and a smile that said, I love you, but…, she wrapped her hand around his arm and said, “Come on, sweetheart.” His mother never called them by their road names. While she’d chased after four wild kids, it had probably been easier to call them the endearments that still rolled off her tongue so easily—sweetheart, babe, honey. On the rare occasions when she used their given names, she meant business.
She took a step toward the bar, but Bullet’s boots were rooted to the floor. His gaze darted to Finlay, who was now standing by the pool tables, talking with two guys while holding out a paper plate with cookies on it.
Fucking cookies.
His mother sighed, worry settling in her eyes as she patted his arm. “Brandon Whiskey, trust me on this. You do not want to do what you’re dead set on doing.”
“Red,” he said, knowing when his mother set her mind on something, like the rest of them, there was no dissuading her. They’d called her Red since they were kids, when Bear had heard her friends calling her by her name, Wren, and thought they’d said Red. The name had stuck.
“Come with me, babe. Let’s have a little chat.”
He tried to clear his throat, but it came out as a growl, and she laughed.
“Well, this is new.” She guided him away from the tables, but he kept his eyes trained on Finlay. “Eyes down here, baby boy.”
He met her amused gaze.
“I thought your brothers were crazy when they said you had a thing for Finlay at Tru and Gemma’s wedding. Clearly, I was slow on the uptake.”
“Your point?”
“My point is”—she lifted his hand holding the tissue-paper-wrapped gift from Finlay—“that sweet little thing over there is not a biker girl. You can’t bully your way into her heart, or scare away every man who looks at her with the hopes that she’ll only see you.”
“I can try.” He was only half kidding.
“Yes, and you’ll push her away faster than you can grovel to get her back.”
He stroked his beard, mulling over what she was saying and hating every word of it. “I’m not walking away from her.”
“Did I say you should?” She arched a slim red brow. “I’m not sure you could if you wanted to. I’ve waited forever to see that fire in your eyes.”
“You always say I was born with fire in my eyes.”
“And you were. The fire you were born with made you the man you are.” She glanced at Finlay, and then his mother’s green eyes found him again. “But this fire will make you the man you’re supposed to be.” She paused, as if she wanted her words to sink in, which they did.
All the way to his bones.
She smiled and said, “Don’t go after your sweetheart with your brawn, baby. Go after her with your heart. That’s the biggest and best thing that sets you apart from every other tough guy out there.”
He watched her stroll away to help another customer, and he wondered why women had to talk in riddles. What the hell did it mean to go after her with his heart? He glanced at Finlay, who was reaching across a table, which gave him a perfect view of her ass. His cock twitched. Calm the hell down. You’re not my fucking heart.
As he went behind the bar, Jed showed up for his shift and snagged a cookie.
“These are awesome.” Jed wiped his forearm across his mouth. His thick blond hair flopped over his eyes. It was hard to put him and Crystal together as siblings, with her jet-black hair.
Jed had a history of theft, but Bullet had recently learned about Jed and Crystal’s painful past, which had led Jed to do what he’d had to in order to help his family, and had led to Crystal’s total transformation.
Bullet became aware of the gift in his right hand again. “You can take off tonight.”
“No, man. I’m supposed to work, and it’s busy.”
“Schedule change. I need you to work Friday night. That cool?” Please fucking say it’s cool.
“Seriously? I told you I’d work whenever you needed me. I can stay tonight, too, if you want me to.”
“Nah. Go have some fun. Just stay out of trouble. And thanks for Friday.”
Jed pulled on his leather jacket and patted Bullet’s shoulder. “Thanks for tonight. Now I can meet up with Quincy and head down to a bonfire on the beach.” He snagged another cookie from the near-empty tray on his way out.
Quincy was Truman’s younger brother and Jed’s roommate. He’d also had a shitty upbringing. Unfortunately, he’d followed in his mother’s footsteps down a drug-infested path. But he was clean now, and on a safe and healthy track. And Bullet would do everything within his power to make sure he stayed that way.
There was an influx of drink orders after Jed left. Bullet set the tissue-paper-wrapped gift on the counter behind him and tended to customers. Finlay was still on her cookie-inspired mission, moving from patron to patron, but now she was passing out little notepads and tiny pink pencils, asking people to write down their favorite bar foods. She set a bowl in the middle of each table for the customers to put their suggestions in. She’d gone from a deer in the headlights to driving the truck in the blink of an eye. Her confidence and determination were as big a turn-on as her innocence and beauty.
As soon as there was a break in orders, Bullet turned his back to the bar and unwrapped the tissue paper, unveiling a cookie that looked a hell of a lot like him, from his beard and tattoos right down to his black leather boots. While all the other cookies had WHISKEY BRO’S or WB scrawled across them, his cookie read, BULLET TRAIN.