Walk the Line (Kings of Chaos 5)

“Jagger. I think it’s time you start calling me, B.”

“Oh, are we getting into the friend zone?”

“Maybe.”

The woman keeps me on my toes. It’s refreshing. I like my submission in the bedroom only.

“What’s going on?”

“Calling to see if you have time for me today.”

“I think I can swing that. What did you have in mind, B?” She’s a skittish creature, so I try to proceed with caution and feel her out. I want to know what the bastard did that stole her smile, and put her defenses on high.

“Since Jess is working on business stuff all day. I thought we could swing by old time, grab some dinner, and wander around a bit?”

“I could re-up my cigar supply,” I say thinking of the specialty Cigar and tobacco store.

“You smoke?”

“On occasion.”

“I remember the smell of my dad’s pipe. I miss it when I’m away from home.”

“You want me to pick you up?”

“No, how about I meet you there in an hour?”

“Sounds good, In front of Raccine and Laramie?” I ask.

“Perfect. See you then.”

I replace my phone. I put in a good hour and a half here. If I leave, no one will think a thing of it. I’m on borrowed time. Soon enough they’ll notice I’m always absent during downtime, and the questions will roll in. I need to know where I stand with Blanche, and who she really is before that happens. As I make my way out of the park, I can’t help but notice the brothers with newborns and Old Ladies. For the first time ever, I realize, I might want that too. A person to call my own who’ll stick by me no matter what I got going on. A solitary life with long hours on the road, sloppy seconds from women obsessed with the biker image is no longer the dream it once was. I’ll be thirty in the blink of an eye and forty won’t be far behind. Being still long enough has given me time to think. As much as I hated it when I arrived. It wasn’t a bad thing.

***

It’s hard to believe the woman in a white t-shirt, black and white tennis shoes, and blue jean cut offs that highlight her thick thighs, and miles of milk-chocolate colored skin is over forty. I lick my lips and take a moment to admire her while she’s unaware. I want to know if she’ll melt in my mouth.

Her hair is smoothed back from her oval shaped face. I kind of miss her curls, but the dark color with brown highlights contrasts in an interesting manner. Everything about her pulls me to her like a magnet to metal. She looks up and offers me a smile. Again I notice the over-sized sunglasses hide her eyes. She’s disguising herself. Is it because she doesn’t want to be seen with me, or is it something more? She stands, and I step into her space. Her breathing hitches, and steadies. Her eyes widen, and her pupils dilate.

“You scared of me, B?”

She licks her lips. “No more than any other man.”

“You think I’m like other men, B

?”

She shakes her head. “No, and that makes you even more dangerous.”

“No, that makes me the right person.” I trail a fingertip down the side of her face. Her body tenses. “What did he do to you, baby?”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you, and I’m not up for a retelling.”

“Yet.”

She tilts her head. “You think you’re going to be around long enough to get to that point?”

“Oh, I know I am. This is me letting you know.”