Lock and Key (51 page)

“What do you think, Bill?” I asked.

“I… I… Holy shit!” Bill hands tugged through his silvery brown hair. Miller slowed the car down and brought it to a stop in front of us.

“I can’t believe this,” Bill swallowed hard. He slid his arm around Karen and laid a fat kiss on her.

“Does that mean he likes it?” asked Jake. Tricky nodded and draped an arm around his shoulder.

Miller got out of the car, glanced at me and put the keys in Bill’s hand.

“Happy birthday, Bill,” Miller said.

Bill grinned at Miller and shook his head. “Shit, son!” He clapped Miller on the back and pumped his hand in a firm shake.

“Woohoo! He likes it! He likes it!” shouted Jake and sprinted towards Miller. Miller grinned and swept him up in his arms.

As I watched Bill take his fab automobile for a rip around the track, Miller came up behind me, wrapped his arms around my middle and pulled me back into his chest. “Thank you, baby,” he murmured in my ear, his voice thick with emotion. I turned in his arms and kissed him thoroughly.

Karen indeed got herself an extended road trip to visit her sons in Cali. Little did I know, but Bill belonged to a muscle car club, and now he and Karen travel frequently to club events across three states showing off Miller’s creation and leaving Miller’s business card everywhere they go. Bill even came back to Eagle Wings and had Taylor and Tricky replace the engine for a meaner, higher powered driving experience. The calls started coming in.

Miller and Willy got to work on the Indian bike. Willy contacted all the old timers he knew who might still have Indian parts, and he rode off with plenty of cash one morning and came back a week later with a smile stamped on his face. He and Miller man-hugged for the longest time as Tricky unloaded the truck.

Jake, their official junior intern, helped organize and clean all the bits and pieces and then the re-build began. It took months, especially once new custom paint job customers started rolling in and things got busy at Eagle Wings. When it got done, it was magnificent.

We frequently took the Indian Chief for rides through the Black Hills. Especially sunset rides. We’d pack a blanket and pick up goodies from Erica’s along with her excellent coffee and head out to soak in the purply-pink orange sky over the endless expanse of rolling land.

From my desk in the shop where I was taking care of the accounting my eyes grazed over the framed photo of me and Miller and Jake. Miller had taught Jake a thing or two about football that day on a club picnic with Junk and his girls. Mary Lynn had taken the photo of us. Jake had just scored his first touchdown, and I had run out to hug him. Miller had been holding him, and I tackled both of them. The three of us had fallen on the ground, the football still in Jake’s hands. Jake was laughing hard, his cheeks red, that sad long look had finally faded from his face that day for good. Miller’s one arm was around me pulling me in for a kiss, his other arm around Jake’s tummy.

I sighed, kicked off my boots under my desk and clicked off the calendar on my tablet. We were trying to decide when the best time would be to get away for a few days to go down to Pine Ridge and visit Grandma Kim’s grave and see Miller’s dad who was in a rehab facility after he had fallen off his horse. They had re-connected. It was awkward, but it was something.

I leaned back in my chair and turned my gaze out the window to the yard of the shop and admired the view of my husband rolling a chopper out front for a final polish before the client came by to pick it up in less than an hour. It was a warm sunny day and he had taken off his t-shirt and wore only his low slung jeans over his work boots and a bandana tied over his hair.

The sweat gleamed on the tight wiry muscles of his back under his One-Eyed Jack’s tattoo as he brought the bike to a stop. He leaned over the engine for a moment and his necklace dangled away from his chest. The silver skeleton key with a skull design I had given him as a wedding gift hung from a leather cord around his neck. I fingered my own small delicate key charm studded with diamond chips that hung at my throat. Miller had it made for me for my birthday out of white Black Hills gold.

He turned suddenly and grinned at me through the big picture window of the shop. Always able to read my mind. My chest swelled, and I waved. He dropped the rag on the seat of his bike, wiped his hands on his jeans, and sauntered through the door of the shop, a slight smile curled the edges of his lips.

Oh boy, I knew that look.

“Hey baby,” I murmured, my toes curled against the floor.

“Tricky had to go out on a run, everyone else is out for the afternoon. Client’s coming in an hour for his bike,” he said, his voice low. His hand jerked on the pulley rope for the thick venetian blinds, and they clattered down the window.

I raised my eyebrows at him. “Right.”

His fingers turned the lock on the door. I bit the inside of my cheek as he prowled across the room. He clicked the lock on the back door which led to the repair shed. He came to the desk and pulled me off my chair and into him. I planted a kiss on his new tattoo just under his eagle. “Grace” in beautiful antique lettering was inked over his heart with a vintage key hanging from the “e”. He had designed a tattoo for me of an eagle flying with a key in its claws. It was inked on my lower abdomen just over the waistband of my panties.

I swirled my tongue over my inked name. The taste of his sweaty skin sent jabs of heat skittering through me.

His breath caught. “Suzi coming in?”

“Nope.” My tongue found one of his dark nipples. He lifted me and sat me on the desk. My fingers removed his bandana and swept through his silky black hair. It had grown just past his chin, and it looked great. It would take another couple of years, maybe more, until it grew to his shoulders. My new favorite indulgence was combing through its silky thickness with my fingers whenever we kissed, while he watched a ballgame on television lying down on the sofa with his head on my lap, and always right before I fell asleep every night, his head against my chest. It was such a simple pleasure, like holding his hand, that I couldn’t live without.

“Jake still going to the movies with Ray?” His fingers curled into the hem of my thin, open necked t-shirt.

I grinned. “Yes, then spending the night with him.”

“Hmm… just confirming.”

He yanked my shirt up and over my head and tossed it on the desk. His head descended and his lips nuzzled over the now burning skin of my chest and up my neck.

“What are you doing?”

“Celebrating our anniversary.”

I smirked. “I thought we did that this morning? A couple of times, in fact.”

He took my key charm into his mouth for an instant then it popped out from between his full lips. “Are you complaining, Mrs. LeBeau?”

“Hell, no. In fact, I was hoping.” I held his face between my hands and kissed him. He fumbled with his jeans and then unfastened mine. I slid off the desk, and he tugged them down my hips. I kicked them off me and pulled his body in between my legs.

“Shit, Grace, are you wearing those…?”

Yes, those crotch-less panties Alicia and Lenore insisted I have were pretty terrific. I had gone back to the boutique and snapped up a few more.

“Fuck me,” Miller breathed.

“That’s the idea,” I said. I spread my legs for his exploring fingers. “More anniversary presents later.”

A growl escaped his throat as he clasped one of my legs and held it high against his shoulder. Miller guided his cock to my entrance. His fingers grazed over the lace of the flimsy panty, and his thumb slid over my clit. He rocked his hips, and my body took him in.

He groaned softly. “Oh shit, yeah.”

“Sweetheart…”

Miller watched his cock thrust into me. His one hand stayed wrapped around my calf against his shoulder, the other pinned my hip down. He thrust out, and my breathing stopped. Everything stopped. He thrust in again, and life made sense once more.

“What you do to me…” I let out a deep moan.

“Love you, Grace,” he said. “Love you so much.”

He rolled his hips into mine over and over again. My body jerked back and forth on top of the desk. My empty mug tumbled on its side, pens and pencils spilled over the edge of the desk, a pile of envelopes cascaded to the floor.

My body tightened, the wave built inside me. “Oh God, every time…”

“Touch yourself, baby,” he said.

“I don’t need it.”

“Do it,” he breathed.

My hand went between my legs. Miller’s eyes darkened, his lips formed a tight O and his breaths came short and quick. He drove faster inside me. That excruciating current pulled me in, and the wave shattered over me. He let out a deep groan and filled me with his sticky warmth.

Miller leaned over me and kissed me. “The clouds have cleared up. Full moon will be perfect tonight,” he murmured. “After dinner, you and me have a date with the Indian.”

I let out a laugh. “Definitely.”

Miller released my one leg and hooked it around his waist along with the other. He freed a breast from a bra cup and nuzzled it with his mouth, while his fingers swept across my chest and lingered on my other breast. My hands slid down his lower back.

“Love watching me in you,” he said against my skin.

“Me too.”

His mouth brushed my lips. “Gotta finish up with that bike. Come see.”

We got dressed. I raised the venetian blinds as Miller unlocked the front door. It was quiet moments like these when I felt truly happy and grateful for all that I had. Yet, still, a gnawing in the pit of my soul poked at me and whispered fragments of impending doom in my ears. I knew it would take a bit more time for those voices to finally quiet, but I was getting there.

I closed my eyes. My brain felt refreshed, my body felt whole and all loved-up. A smile curved my lips. That was my kind of cardio, not that boot camp torture Alicia and Lenore were always dragging me to.

“Babe.” Miller’s fingers went to the wide V of my t-shirt and tugged it down. He grinned at me and planted a kiss on the swell of my breast. I entwined my fingers with his, and he swung open the door.

A streak of bright sunlight gleamed off the red and orange explosion of zig-zags freshly painted over the body of the restored bike out front. My fingers curled in Miller’s firm grasp, and a billow of warm air bathed us both as we stepped outside.

I could not have made this dream come true without a great many wonderful, supportive and very smart people who deserve my big hugs and my sincerest thanks.

To Chelsea Kuhel at Madison Seidler for your editing prowess and for generously answering all my questions so thoroughly.

Lots of hugs and kisses to Tatiana of Vila Design for taking my cover ideas and making them all come true.

To Angela of Fictional Formats for taking away the pain so beautifully with the sweep of her magic formatting wand.

To Billy Blue of Blue Bayer Design NYC for the use of your fantastic original design skeleton key necklace featured on the cover and in my story.

In my research for this story David Charles Spurgeon’s “Bikin’ and Brotherhood: My Journey” provided a spectacular, vivid ride through the life of real 1%’er, “the one in a hundred of us who has given up on society.” Your rough and tumble ride through the outlaw life, your dedication to the brotherhood and your “love of the machine and the freedom of the open road—live to ride, ride to live” through all the many, many grim realities of the life was heartfelt and eye-opening and gave me so much to chew on. Also to Carol and Vlad Ononov of Scenicdakotas.com for their great website and for answering my many questions about the magnificent Dakotas.

To my awesome beta galpals Adele, Angela, Danette, Natalie. Your eagerness, enthusiasm, and feedback always made me smile and kept me moving forward. Thank you for putting up with my sending you new updated versions over and over again and for answering all my questions. To Andrew and Evan, my lone male beta readers and dear friends. You two paid attention to whole other rivers of detail which was absolutely priceless. Your pointed suggestions kept it real, made me re-think the spine of the piece, and helped me spin a much tighter web. Huge. I depend on each of you so very much, you have no idea! To Ellen for her country music guidance. To Carolyn for your cheering me on and your pointed comments.