Chapter Seven

CHAPTER SEVEN

Sabrina

"Iced or hot?" Jazzy, the lady at the counter of She's Bean Around, asked as I finally made it up from the line that had wrapped halfway down the block.

I always felt old on my friend-date night with Britney. The nighttime crowd at this particular coffee place ran young. Not that I blamed them.

The world lacked third spaces for everyone, but especially teens, to hang out outside of home, school, or work. And as a mom and former troublesome teen, I was happy to see the kids hanging out at a coffee place instead of trying on grown-up shoes by smoking, drinking, or screwing around.

"Eh, hot. Surprise me on the flavor," I said.

"You sure about that? It could get crazy."

"You've never let me down before," I said, moving over a step to glance in the snack cabinet. "When did you guys start carrying whoopie pies?" I asked.

"This week," Jazzy said as she pumped stuff into my large latte cup. "You want one, trust me," she said before setting my cup under the espresso machine.

"I can't turn it down then," I agreed, watching as she grabbed one and stuck it on a plate for me.

My phone vibrated in my pocket and I swiped to answer.

"You're never late," I said, glancing toward the front windows, expecting to see her walking up.

"Sabrina, I'm so sorry. I have to cancel. Allie is sick," she said.

"Oh, no. Is she alright?"

"Yeah. But I don't want to leave her home alone when she isn't feeling well."

"No, of course not. Don't worry about it. Give her a kiss for me."

"Will do. Maybe we can catch lunch this week… oh," she said and I heard something that sounded like retching, making me queasy. "I have to go."

"Friend cancel?" Jazzy asked as she looked at my dessert. "Want me to make it to go?"

"Would you hate me if I took up a valuable table all by myself?" I asked. What can I say? Aside from work, I never really got to get out on my own. I valued the hour or so of free time. Even if I was totally going to stress about the sink full of dishes and the pile of laundry that was getting so tall there was a definite chance it could topple over and bury me or Daphne alive.

"Please do. Don't get me wrong, the kids are usually pretty… okay. But it's nice to have some grown-ups around here too," she said as I tapped my card to pay.

"I won't take it as long as usual," I said as I turned to grab one of the tables against the wall.

I'd just sat down and opened my drink to let it cool down a bit, when a tall male body stopped next to my table.

My immediate response was annoyance and I was going to just keep my gaze down to discourage conversation.

Until I saw a prosthetic peeking out of the black denim shorts.

My head jerked up so fast my damn vision blurred for a second.

"Hey!" I said, smiling up at him, never so happy to be cancelled on in my life.

"Hey, babe. Looks like you snagged the last table," he said, glancing around, making me do the same.

"Seems like it," I said, waving toward the empty seat across from me.

He didn't even hesitate to sit down, his gaze sliding to my drink and snack. For a second, I could swear he looked confused by it being there.

Which was weird as hell given that this was a coffee place.

"Is that a whoopie pie?" he asked, brows raised.

"Yeah. They're new. I'm excited to try it."

"You've never had one?"

"No. I knew someone in school who grew up in Lancaster County, Pennsylvania. And she used to say how much she missed the Amish markets and their whoopie pies. She made them sound impossible to not try."

"Yeah, they're banging. I think the streusel cakes or apple dumplings might have them beat, but they're solid if you're into chocolate."

"Oh, I am very into chocolate. I'm having a sordid affair in the supply closet at work with this massive bag of peanut butter cups I bought. Pretty sure it was meant to be one of those bags you buy to hand out to trick-or-treaters. Which means I now identify as an entire neighborhood of children."

That got a little chuckle out of him as he nodded at my drink. "What'd you get?"

"I have no idea," I admitted. "I told Jazzy to surprise me."

I pulled the cup closer, sniffing it, then took a tentative sip.

"What's the verdict?"

"I think it's a… 's'mores latte," I said, tasting toasted marshmallow, chocolate, and a hint of graham cracker.

"Is it good?"

"No. No, it's practically orgasmic," I said, forgetting momentarily that he wasn't Britney and that I really shouldn't be talking about Os in front of the man who'd been the leading man in my dreams for the past several days. Dreams that involved many long, rolling Os, I might add. "Do you want to try it?" I asked. "I mean, if you like flavored coffee," I said.

"Don't tell the guys at the club, but when I catch up with my sister, she always makes iced caramel lattes. They're the shit," he said, reaching for the mug.

My hand didn't move fast enough, and his strong, surprisingly calloused fingers grazed mine.

Speaking of Os, I swear I nearly had one right then and there.

I couldn't tell if I was that hard-up for an orgasm, or if this man just had some kind of magic touch.

Either way, I snatched my hand back as he lifted the cup to his lips and had a tentative sip.

"Not bad," he said, nodding.

A movement behind him had me glancing over toward the counter where Gala, the other owner, nodded toward Callow and proceeded to make a lewd gesture while making faces like she was in the throws of ecstasy.

My eyes must have given me away because Callow turned.

Gala was just quick enough to turn the lewd gesture into her fanning herself like she was overheated.

"Gonna go grab a drink," Callow said, turning back. Behind him, Gala and Jazzy were laughing at the close call. "Want anything else?"

"I think I'm all set, but thanks," I said, giving him a smile as he moved to stand and get in the line that had gotten significantly shorter now that all the tables were taken.

With his back to me, I let myself eye-bang Callow for a couple of minutes before forcing my gaze away.

"What'd you get?" I asked as he came back with a coffee and a plate.

"Gala talked me into a slice of cherry pie," Callow said, making me choke on my coffee, leading to me coughing at making a whole big spectacle of myself.

"You alright?" Callow asked, passing me a napkin.

"Wrong pipe," I lied, glancing over to find Gala shooting me a wicked grin.

To be fair, I had been celibate for ages, but I hardly believed I was re-virginized. I hoped.

As Callow focused on opening his coffee cup, I shot Gala small eyes that only made her grin wider.

"Black coffee?" I asked, shaking my head. "You're one of those people?"

"What kind?"

"The ‘people who like milk, sugar, and flavors don't like actual coffee' people."

"Not really. Just used to it. Didn't always get milk and sugar when I was… on missions," he said, choosing the words carefully. "So you kind of learn to like it."

"Like beer," I said. "I gagged the first few times I had beer as a teen," I admitted. "I had to force myself to keep drinking it until, eventually, I liked it. For about three weeks before the stick turned blue."

"And now?"

"I'm too old to pretend I like things I think are gross," I said. "When they make a peanut butter cup beer, maybe I will try it again."

"You're not old," Callow said, shaking his head.

"Tell that to my knee that has suddenly started to warn me when it is going to rain. Even though I've never actually hurt it or anything. I watched Daphne yesterday go from criss-cross on the floor to standing in one smooth move that didn't require grabbing something for support or balance and felt this stab of nostalgia."

"How's she doing? Giving you gray hair still?"

"Actually, she's been good. I mean, she's still a hormonal teenager who thinks I'm embarrassing whenever we are out of the apartment together. But she hasn't been cutting class or sneaking out."

"Where is she tonight?"

"Home. Which isn't like her. When I left, she was deep into some self-care, hair mask and mud mask included, so she clearly wasn't going anywhere."

"Did you look into the martial arts classes?" he asked.

"Yeah. We went on a tour two days ago. She wasn't really feeling it when we were heading there, but by the time we left, she was all excited. Of course part of that excitement might have been thanks to the immense amount of shopping she ‘needed' to do to get workout clothes and a gym bag, a new, fancy water bottle… let's just say my credit card needs to sit in the freezer and cool off for a while."

"Sorry about that," he said, wincing.

"No, don't be. It's nice to see her excited about something that doesn't involve things that make me sit up at night chugging antacids."

"Good. I hope she likes it. I think any discipline like that is good for kids. For any of us, really."

"I will take your word for that. I think I'd rather choke down a kale smoothie than take a martial arts class. My idea of exercise is carting the groceries up from the parking lot each week. And the occasional stroll around the neighborhood."

"Yeah, I don't do a lot of working out anymore."

"Riiight," I said, rolling my eyes.

"What?"

"Look at you," I said, waving at him. "You so obviously workout."

"I'll tag along when one of the other guys is hitting the gym here and there. And I was swimming over the summer."

"You just made my point. But I guess your job kind of requires you… stay fit. How's your arm?" I asked.

"Just a scratch now."

"And your friend?"

"Taking full advantage of the kindness of the old ladies and club girls."

"What's a club girl?" I asked, surprised at the surge of jealousy I felt at the mention.

"Girls who like to hang around and party," he said.

I had a feeling they did more than party with them.

I had no right to feel as possessive of him as I did right then, but there was no denying that was my reaction to the idea of a bunch of pretty women hanging around to party and sleep with him.

"Does everyone always party there?" I asked. "It kind of sounds exhausting."

"It depends on how many prospects are around usually. Prospects," he said at my scrunched brows, "are guys who are, essentially, auditioning to be in the club. They live there, work there, do chores for a period of time while the president and the rest of the club decides if they will be a good fit or not."

"Does anyone ever not get in?" I asked.

"Occasionally. It's been a while, though. Usually, Fallon and Brooks vet someone so well that there is almost no question in their minds about the fit. So it is just whether the rest of us get along."

"Do you? Get along with everyone?"

"I do. We all do for the most part. There was a guy here a while ago, Sutton, who didn't get along with Sully. But that was some shit from back when they were kids."

"Did Sutton leave?"

"Yes, but he always planned to leave." At my blank look, he went on, "Sutton was never going to stay with us. Fallon was trying to see if he would be a good choice for a president of a sister club."

"Sister club," I repeated. "Wow. I didn't know that was a thing. Are there a lot of them?"

"Two fully established ones right now. Golden Glades in Florida. And Shady Valley in California. Sutton is putting his club together now in Texas."

"What's the reason for having sister clubs?"

"Depends on the club, I guess. Usually, it's a strategic thing. Which is why we have clubs now on three sides of the country. It's good for… import and export kind of things."

"Right. That makes a lot of sense. What?" I asked when I caught him watching me with his head tilted.

"You're surprisingly accepting of it," he said.

"Your… job?" I clarified.

"Yeah. Most normal people don't act like it's no big thing."

"I dunno. I guess when I was younger, I was around a lot of people with, ah, let's call it ‘alternative lifestyles.' I became immune to the shock of it. I mean, I did knowingly date a drug dealer. Sure, it was just weed. But it was illegal at the time.

"Oh, and we used to hang out with some guys who were members of a local street gang. Fifth Street or something like that."

"Third Street," he said, giving me a little smile.

"Yeah, that was it. It was wild. They would just party with guns sitting right there on the coffee table. I wasn't… the most sensible teenager," I admitted.

"Eh, that's what youth is for. Being stupid. Give you some shit to look back on fondly when you're too old to party with local gangs."

I did have a lot of fond memories, I had to admit. Even if I didn't want to see my own kid doing the same things.

"So after being young and stupid, you joined the military?" I asked.

"Yep. Mostly wanted to get away from my family. And travel. Doing it this way let me do it for free," he said. "Well, it had its own kind of cost, I guess," he admitted, and I could see his arm moving as he absentmindedly rubbed his leg above his prosthetic.

"Would you do it again?" I asked, knowing how life could give you so many gray areas. Like, I wouldn't trade my daughter for anything. But life would have been easier if I'd waited until I was more established to have kids.

"That's a hard question," Callow admitted, likely feeling the same way I did. "I loved the travel and the brotherhood. Other parts… not so much."

"Is that why you wanted to become a biker when you got back?" I asked. "The brotherhood?"

"Yeah," he said, nodding. "I lost two good friends in the service. And while nothing can fill that void, having that closeness again has… helped ease the ache, I guess."

"It must be nice to have that big of a support system," I said, nodding.

"Sounds like you don't have that. Must have been hard raising a kid with no help."

"I had Britney and Sam. They have a daughter Daphne's age. And Britney was a stay-at-home mom, and she helped watch Daphne so I could work. They were invaluable."

"But all you had. Her father was never in the picture?"

"No. Took a while to track him down just to tell him I was pregnant."

"He's never wanted anything to do with her?"

"He sent me some money. Once. That was it."

"And your parents…"

"My mother took off when I was young. My father worked and drank himself to sleep. When Daphne was about six months, I got the hell out of there and never looked back."

"Christ, you've been alone-alone," he said, breaking off a piece of his pie with his fork.

"Yeah. It was a lot rougher in the years before Daph went to school. Once she did, it made work… somewhat easier. And thanks to Britney, I had someone to pick her up on the many school holidays and such. And help over summer vacation when she was too young to be home alone. My job is not forgiving of unexpected, or even planned, days off."

"Where do you work?"

"The Hamlet Hotel," I told him. "I started as a maid pretty soon after Daphne was born. Worked my way up to the Head Housekeeper."

With it came a nice salary bump that had made things easier the past few years. But it also came with the added stress of the boss being on my ass all the time about any small thing that may have gone wrong with one of the maids. Everything from someone calling in sick to a missing bar of soap was my fault now.

"Do you like working in hospitality?" he asked.

"Oh, God no," I said immediately, getting a chuckle out of Callow. "It's, you know, a job. Not everyone has the luxury of working their dream job. But it doesn't mean I hate it. It's nice just being able to leave it at work. If it was something I really cared about, I imagine I'd be stressing about it nonstop."

"Yeah, I can see that."

"If my boss wasn't so overbearing, it would be the perfect job, honestly. I really like everyone else."

"Yeah, I get that," Callow said. "Most people don't quit jobs; they quit bosses."

"What's your boss like?" I asked.

"Fallon is chill. He's a third generation biker president, so not much gets a rise out of him. He's seen or done it all himself. Brooks is more our direct ‘boss,' if you will. He used to be wound a little too tight. But he's chilled out now that he's got a girl and a life outside of the club."

"Do a lot of the bikers have significant others?" I asked.

"Most of them. They eventually get sick of the partying and shit, find a girl, settle down, have kids. Very domestic. The only single guys now are me, Sully, Nave, Perish, and the twins."

"By choice?" I asked.

"I guess?" he said, looking confused by the question. "I mean I think it's more of a… the right person hasn't come around sort of shit? At least that's how the other guys who've gotten shacked up explained it. They were perfectly fine with life the way it was. Until the right woman came around and knocked ‘em on their ass."

"Have you ever been married?" I asked, not sure how old he was exactly, but I would put him about eight or ten years older than me. It was possible he'd been married and divorced once or twice by now.

"No. I was too busy with work. I was never really anywhere for long enough to meet anyone for longer than a day or two."

The conversation slipped to less personal things then. Growing up in this area. How I'd been so hilariously ignorant to how much criminal activity went on in Navesink Bank.

Apparently, the bar I'd been to a few times to celebrate things with Britney and Sam was owned by a family of loansharks, of all things.

And Famigilia—the fancy Italian restaurant I took Daphne to for her sixteenth birthday—was owned by the mob .

By the time our food and coffee was gone, the line was practically out the door again with teens looking for a place to kill a few hours.

"I should probably get going," I said, checking my phone, frustrated by the hour and the fact that I didn't have full certainty that Daphne would stay in like she claimed.

"Yeah, gettin' late," Callow agreed, reaching for my plate and my coffee cup to bring to the bins as I gathered my things and got to my feet.

The table was almost instantly filled up as I walked with Callow to the door.

"I'm this way," I said, waving down the street.

"I'll walk you," he said, making my belly wobble deliciously.

The last time I had a man walk me to my car was at the hotel when I'd needed to work an overnight and some guys were lurking around being creepy, making me ask the custodian to walk with me.

This was a lot nicer, I had to admit.

"Don't you love the fall?" I asked as leaves blew across the sidewalk in front of us. "Makes me want to make apple cider donuts."

"You bake?" he asked.

"Kind of goes with the mom territory," I said, shrugging. "I had to learn to make Christmas cookies. I can't take a lot of credit for the apple cider donuts, though. I buy a mix I just have to add cider to, roll out, cut, and fry."

"Any chance you'd save me a few when you do?" he asked, making me want to go home and immediately place an order for more of the mix.

"I think I could manage that," I said, wondering if my tone sounded as flirty to him as it did to me as I turned with my back to my car to give him a little smile.

It'd been so long since I'd even attempted to flirt that I honestly could have been laying it on way too thick or comically thin for all I knew.

"Yeah?" he asked, something smooth and sexy in his dark eyes as he leaned closer.

Butterflies took flight through my belly as my heartbeat tripped over itself.

Because he was definitely flirting back.

"You know," he said, reaching up to brush my hair behind my ear, making a shiver slide down my spine, "I'm really glad you invited me here tonight," he said.

I realized too late that he was leaning closer, that his gaze was on my lips.

Because automatically, my stupid mouth spoke what was on my mind.

"Wait… what?"

That was all it took for Callow to straighten again. "Hm?"

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"I'm glad you invited me here," he said, brows furrowing.

"But… I didn't."

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"I didn't invite you here. I was supposed to be meeting Britney, but she canceled on me. This is our weekly date thing," I said, waving back toward She's Bean Around.

"Babe, you texted me," he said, looking baffled.

"No, I didn't," I said, shaking my head.

I mean, I'd thought about it no fewer than a thousand times. But I'd never had the balls to do it.

Callow reached into his pocket, bringing out his phone, finding what he was looking for, then turning the screen toward me.

And there it was.

A text from my phone.

Asking him to meet me.

For a stomach-clenching moment, I worried I might have texted him when I'd woken up from one of my setting-the-sheets-on-fire dreams when I hadn't been awake enough to remember what I'd done.

But I had a feeling if I'd texted him then that it would have been a lot less tame than asking him on a coffee date.

Confused, I dug my own phone out of my purse, going to my messages, finding Callow, and seeing no message inviting him anywhere.

"See?" I said, turning the phone to him, watching as his frown intensified.

"The fuck?"

As he looked between our screens, I suddenly knew exactly what happened.

My damn daughter happened.

The only other person in the world who knew the passcode to get into my phone. Who could have easily swiped it off of the nightstand when I was sleeping and texted Callow.

Then deleted the texts on my end. But there was nothing she could do about the texts on his end.

Not ready to condemn her to Callow before I even got the chance to confront her, though, I decided to play it off.

"Well, however the hell that happened, I'm glad it did," I said, ignoring the unease making my belly wobble, not accustomed to being so open with a guy.

"Yeah?" he asked, head tipping to the side as he tucked his phone away again.

"Yeah," I said, giving him a smile. And maybe, just maybe, my gaze slid to his lips for a second.

It was long enough for him to notice, though, making his own gaze dip.

"Me too," he said.

This time as he leaned, his hand lifted to rest on the side of my neck as his lips claimed mine.

It sounds absurd, being a full-grown freaking woman, but I swear I swooned.

My belly quivered, my heart fluttered, and a shiver moved through my whole body as his lips claimed mine.

There was nothing tentative about it, either.

Callow kissed like a man who knew what he wanted and was going to go full-in for it.

His lips were hard and demanding, making a soft moan escape me as my hands automatically rose, sliding up his arms to wrap around his neck, pulling him closer until his strong body was against mine.

Callow's tongue slid out, teasing the seam of my lips until they parted, inviting him in. His tongue toyed with mine, making fireworks explode inside of me.

My arms tightened around his neck, crushing him to me.

A rumbling sound moved through Callow as his hand slid from the side of my neck to the back. His fingers slipped up into my hair, turning, and doing a small tug at the roots.

The moan that escaped me in response was embarrassing, but there was no stopping it as need coursed through me.

Callow's hardness was pressed against me, letting me know I wasn't alone in how far gone I felt so quickly.

I resisted the urge to hook a leg around him, to open myself up, then grind against his length.

But just barely.

Honestly, I was seconds away from actually doing it when a loud whistle from behind us had us both stiffening.

Our lips pulled back in unison. Callow's face pressed against the side of my head as a laugh moved through me.

Wasn't it just perfect that a teenager was responsible for us being there like that. And another teenager was what had us coming back into our right heads.

"Better get in," Callow said, reaching behind me to open my door, "before I do something stupid like drag you down an alley and fuck you up against the wall," he added.

My legs felt weak at the images his words conjured up in my mind.

But I obediently slid into the car.

"Text me when you get home," he said before slamming the door.

I wanted to sit there and decompress a moment. But Callow was standing there, waiting for me to pull off. So I stabbed the key into the ignition and pulled off, watching him disappear in the rearview.

By the time I was pulling into the lot of my apartment building, the worst of the desire had abated.

I deep-breathed the whole walk up to my apartment door, wanting a clear head.

I heard the TV on in my daughter's room as I closed and locked the door.

"Daphne Elizabeth Waters," I called, hearing her TV mute. "You have some explaining to do."