4. Stella

4

STELLA

T he grass squelches under my boots as I trudge through the field, dodging around groups of men in leather. On the far side of the field, a van waves a white flag with Coffee written on it, and that's where I'm heading.

My eyes sting from lack of sleep, and there's a crick in my neck. The trundle bed had a saggy mattress and no pillow. And I was woken several times by Charlie crying and then in the morning by Nina, Cleo and Kray's adopted daughter, jumping on me.

A man steps in front of me, laughing at something his friend said and completely oblivious of his surroundings. I bump into him as he passes, and the stench of stale beer makes me cough.

The men stagger away and I put my head down and keep going, my sole focus the beacon of hope that is the coffee truck.

It rained overnight, and it can't have been nice sleeping out in the tent area. No wonder they partied into the night. And by the looks of some of them, well into the morning too.

The music carried access the field and into the motel. I could have gone with the other Crows to the party, but I'm not here to court trouble. I preferred to stay in with Cleo and the kids and stay well away from any temptation.

My mind strays to Will, who is the biggest temptation I've seen here so far. But something tells me he wouldn't have been at the party either. He didn't seem like the type to drink in the rain.

Away from the camping area, stalls are set up to sell food and merchandise and other crafts. A stage is at the far end of the field, and at this time of the morning it's all kids' entertainers.

Cleo brought the kids over this morning for the kids' shows, but I got tired of watching a biker in a clown suit and wandered off to look at the stalls.

There's a program of speakers and bands throughout the day culminating in the headline act tonight. But right now, it's coffee I need.

I finally make it across the field and join the long line for the coffee van. The two women behind the counter look harried as they grind beans and steam milk at a furious pace for the needy customers. The delicious smell of freshly brewed coffee hangs in the air. I breathe in deep, and the rich scent puts a smile on my face.

"You look happy this morning."

I jump at the gravelly voice, and the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. A shiver zaps down my spine, and I turn to find Will behind me. He's freshly shaved, and his eyes are bright. He looks like he slept well. He looks good, even with the purple bruise around his left temple.

"You scared me." I put a hand over my racing heart, and his eyes dart to my chest then back up to my face.

"I have to stop doing that. I don't want another bruise."

At mention of the bruise, I wince. "I'm so sorry about yesterday."

He frowns at me. "Don't say another word about it."

"How are the butterfly stitches holding?" I reach my hand out to touch his head then hesitate. "May I?"

His eyes lock on mine as my fingers hover over his forehead. They're the deepest brown I've ever seen, almost black.

I didn't realize I'd stepped closer to him, and our faces are only inches apart. I'm tall, five foot nine, and I'm almost eye level with him. I like that Will's taller than me. It's hard finding men who are.

"You may." There's a sparkle in his eyes when he says it, like it's amusing to him.

I carefully slide the hair on his temple back so I can see the wound. There's no fresh blood, and the thin butterfly stitches seem to be doing the job of holding the skin together.

I run my hand over them, and he flinches. "Sorry."

"Stop apologizing, Stella." It comes out as a growl, causing a new wave of heat to course through my veins. There's a pull low in my belly, and my knees feel wobbly.

"Does it hurt? Do you have a headache?"

"Nothing a strong coffee won't fix. And I took Advil this morning."

"If you go to the local ER, they'll prescribe you something stronger."

"No," he says quickly. "Advil's fine."

I trace the outline of the bruise with my fingertip, enjoying the feel of his skin. His eyes dart to mine, and our gazes lock. My breathing quickens, and heat floods my body. The way he's looking at me like he wants to kiss me makes my core ache.

My lips part on a gasp, and I will him to kiss me. It's been a long time since I felt a man's lips on me, and I've never wanted to be kissed as badly as I do by this man.

"You want a coffee, or what?"

I startle at the woman in the coffee van and step away from Will. I'm back in a muddy field, surrounded by a thousand hungover bikers, and in need of coffee.

"I'll have a double shot with cream and sugar and…" I turn to Will. "What are you having?"

"An americano, no cream, no sugar."

He pulls out his wallet, and before I can protest puts some bills down on the counter. "I got this."

I shake my head. "I should buy you coffee, as an apology for the…" I indicate his head.

Will frowns at me. "You already gave up your room. You can't keep apologizing all weekend."

The woman's already processed the payment and given Will his change. They've got a line of customers behind us, and she has no time for us quibbling about who pays.

We wait at the other end of the truck while the second woman makes our coffee. Will turns to me with his hands in his pockets.

"You're with the Underground Crows." He says it as if he's sucking on a lemon, like the Crows are something distasteful.

"Cleo's husband Kray is a Crow."

Will's frown deepens. "You involved much with the club?"

There's disapproval in his voice that gives me pause. He's part of an MC too, so I'm not sure what he's getting at.

"I've spent some time at the clubhouse since I've been staying with Cleo. They're good guys."

Will grunts, and a flash of something passes across his face. Is that jealousy? That can't be right. We only just met.

"They can't be that good of guys if the President spent three years inside."

The heat drains from my face, and I look down at my hands. I have a small ring with a rose pattern, and I twist it in my fingers.

"That was a long time ago," I say quietly, hoping he doesn't notice the strain in my voice. "They've gone legit. All their business is above board."

"How do you know that?"

I sneak a look up at Will. He's clean cut and well- groomed and has probably never done anything he regrets in his life. Which is the opposite of me.

I have no business being attracted to a man like him. I'll get my coffee, and then I'll go and ignore this connection between us.

"Because Cleo takes in foster kids. They had a full report done on her and Kray. Cleo wouldn't stick around if Kray was into anything dodgy."

"You have a lot of faith in your sister."

She has a lot of faith in me is more like it. Cleo was always the one with the kind heart and resolve of steel.

The woman hands over our coffees, and I wrap my hands around the warm cup.

"I don't believe people just change like that." Will isn't letting it go.

"You don't think people can change? You don't think people deserve a second chance?" I hold my breath, waiting for his answer.

"With a good reason, perhaps. But most people don't change."

I take a sip of my coffee, taking in his words. In the clean cut world he comes from, perhaps people don't change. But I believe in second chances. I've had one myself.

Will's face lights up, and I follow his gaze.

On this side of the field is a row of carnival games. In the stall on the end, a large man with an American flag emblazoned on his leather jacket is handing over three balls to a gangly kid .

"You want a try at the coconut shy?" The disapproving look is gone, and Will is relaxed and smiling.

I should walk away; I have no business being attracted to a man like Will. But his smile is infectious, and instead of walking away, I follow him to the coconut shy.

Will buys us each a turn and hands me the first ball. He holds my coffee while I take aim at the coconut.

The first one goes too far left, and I try again. The second one misses, and the third skims the coconut but it doesn't fall. "So close!"

"But not close enough," the man running the stall croons.

"Let me try." I hold the coffees while Will takes the balls.

He half crouches as he assesses the angle. Then he plants one foot in front of the other and takes his time aiming. I use the opportunity to watch him.

He's tall, at least six feet, and his shoulders are broad. Under his leather jacket, he wears a tight white t-shirt that shows off a muscular chest.

He fixes the coconut with a look of determination, taking his time to focus. I wonder what it would be like to have his attention focused on me. A delicious shiver runs down my spine.

His hands are big and strong, and I bet he knows how to use them on a woman. The hairs on my arms stand on end thinking about it. It's been far too long since a man got close to me. And now my body is going crazy for the first good-looking one who pays me attention .

I need to get a grip. Or maybe I need to let go. I'm not sure which.

Will throws the ball and it skims the coconut. The coconut wobbles and drops to the ground with a thud.

He takes his time with the next one, adjusting his stance. This time he knocks it clear off the stand.

I cheer, and the man behind the stall scowls. I take it he doesn't like people to win.

Will throws the next ball, and the next coconut falls to the ground. He turns to me, grinning, and the smile is infectious.

"Choose any of the prizes on the left," the man mutters.

"Which one do you want?" Will asks me.

"Me?" The prizes are oversized stuffed animals, the kind of thing Cleo's kids would love. "Don't you have anyone you want to give it to?"

He fixes me with an intense look that makes the back of my knees tremble. "Yes. You."

His eyes are dancing, and when he looks at me like that my panties dampen and I squeeze my thighs together.

I quickly turn back to the stall owner. "I'll take the giraffe." Nina will love it.

He hands over the giraffe, and now I've got this big thing to lug around with me. We continue down the stalls, stopping to play each carnival game.

Will is easy to talk to and he's good at these games, especially the shooting ones .

"Where did you learn to shoot?" I ask after he knocks down three yellow duckies in a row with an air rifle.

"I was in the military."

That doesn't surprise me. There's something about the clean cut biker that screams military. Except he doesn't talk like a soldier.

I'm about to ask which regiment he was in when Will's eyes light up. "Whack-a-mole. I bet you're good at this one," he teases.

He's right. I'm a little too vigorous at smashing the mallet down on the poor moles. But it's the only game I win my own prize at.

By the time we come to the end of the line of carnival games, my arms are full of stuffed animals, a bag of candy floss, and a rainbow slinky.

All of them are prizes that Will insisted I take. I'll give them all to Cleo for the foster kids that stay with her sometimes.

As we near the beer tent, the crowd thickens and the sounds of rowdy men talking fill the air. In front of us, a man pushes another guy from a different club who stumbles back into a group of men.

I stop, and Will stops with me. I don't want to go anywhere near trouble, and this doesn't look good.

"Do you want to get out of here?" Will asks.

I peer at him over the head of a stuffed bear. I've just spent an hour with him, but it doesn't feel like enough. "Where to?"

"Let's go for a ride. Away from this. "

It's like he read my mind. The thought of the open road with him by my side makes me grin. "Let's do it."