TRAILING TRISHA - A Black Hounds Motorcycle Club Romance (The Fox and the Hounds Book #2) (19 page)

BOOK: TRAILING TRISHA - A Black Hounds Motorcycle Club Romance (The Fox and the Hounds Book #2)
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Unfortunately, the house was dark. Only a few candles and battery-powered lanterns illuminated the room. Looking through a window that was bolted up, I couldn’t make out a damn thing.

 

 

I wondered what Max was up to.

 

 

I put any I had for attraction for him in the back of my mind. Max was only a few years older than me but it seemed like he was a generation older than I was. He had just been through so much in his relatively short life. The man was a widower who was still recovering from the loss of his wife. I didn’t need to reopen old wounds.

 

 

I walked into the kitchen I saw Max pouring some cereal. He was shirtless and I could see the toned muscles of his back. When he noticed me, the man smiled and prepared another bowl of cereal for me. “Morning, I hope you don’t mind corn flakes for breakfast.”

 

 

“Good morning,” I replied, turning flush at his state of undress. Then again, he probably didn’t have to worry about modesty when he was the only one living here. “Why is it so dark in here? Did the generator go out?”

 

 

“No, I just got an early start on rationing fuel,” he answered, opening a carton of milk. “As for why it’s dark, the windows are frosted over. By the way, you want milk?”

 

 

“No, I’m okay with eating it dry,” I said, getting up to look through a window. “No kidding! I can barely make out what’s out there.”

 

 

“It just doesn’t stop,” he sighed, pouring two cups of coffee. “I like my coffee black but do you want cream and sugar in yours?”

 

 

“Just the cream.”

 

 

Max served me a bowl of cereal before sitting next to me. Ignoring his own bowl of cereal, he fidgeted with a strange looking radio, “It’s good to have company for breakfast.”

 

 

“Likewise,” I replied. My morning consisted of scarfing down a bagel and a latte before work. Or trying to find work. “What’s with that thing? Is it a radio?”

 

 

“A police radio,” he answered. “During my biker days, we used it to evade cops. Now, it’s a good way to listen for emergency messages. Normally, this place doesn’t get good reception here for cell phones, internet, or just about anything that’s wireless.”

 

 

“Can you talk to the police with it?”

 

 

“No, this model is just a receiver.”

 

 

“You find anything interesting on the radio?” I asked, poking at my cereal with a spoon. “Anything about when the weather will clear up?”

 

 

“Other than a ham radio station by someone into Russian music, it’s mostly been static,” he answered, tuning the radio. It spurted out electronic gibberish. “Finish up your cereal, Emily. You’ll need your energy.”

 

 

I giggled. “Okay, dad.”

 

 

Max joined in on my laughter. I felt better seeing him act cheerier. He must have gone months without sitting down and having breakfast with someone else in his home. Together, we ate, talked, and listed to the snow pile up outside of us.

 

 

It could be weeks before it was safe to go outside. Thankfully, Max had prepared well for this blizzard. We had enough food and fuel to make it through the next couple of weeks. We also had enough firewood to for the woodstove and the fireplace. At least for water, we could melt and filter the snow.

 

 

After putting on a shirt, Max tended carefully to the fireplace with a poker. He was vigilant of feeding too much wood into fireplace. I liked being warm but I didn’t plan on dealing with house fire. Nonetheless, the fireplace bathed the living room with a gorgeous glow. I leaned over Max’s shoulder and said. “Your house is just beautiful. I never get tired of looking at it. It feels like something out of a fairy tale.”

 

 

“The view from the attic is great,” he mused, finally satisfied with the fire. “Maria and I would go up there in the Summer and just watch the stars at night.”

 

 

“I’d like to see it one day.”

 

 

“And I’d like to take you up there,” he said, his eyes reminiscing about the past. “But it’s as cold as an icebox there. I have to get around to adding more insulation up there.”

 

 

Max stood up beside me and gazed at the fire. The man was so gorgeous. His shirt did little to hide his muscular body. I saw toned flesh and dark tattoos where his shirt failed to cover. A few scars attested to his violent past but did little to diminish his attractiveness

 

 

Any woman would have given a kidney to spend a night with him. Max must have gone for months without being intimate with a woman. I’d just have to charm him…

 

 

I cursed myself for thinking such perverted thoughts about a widower. The man was at his most vulnerable. I didn’t need to further torment him just for a night of passion.

 

 

The two us just basked in the warm glow of the fireplace. Eventually, Max turned to me and said. “I’m going to go down check up on the generator. We can use candles for lighting but we need the generator’s power for plumbing.”

 

 

While he headed down to the basement, I changed into some of my spare clothes. I hadn’t packed much but I had a few sets of clothing to cycle through. I wore some sweatshirts and some sweatpants that would help me keep warm.

 

 

I went downstairs to check on Max. I poked my head around the corner and saw him checking the side of a power generator. It hummed like an oversized electric shaver. However, my eyes were on the man beside it.

 

 

Max leaned over the mechanical contraptions and pulled at a part inside of it. The sinews in his strong body flexed as he did his work. The man’s torso was broad and almost bull-like. He had a pair of powerful legs to support his powerful frame. I felt like a perverted voyeur watching him like this.

 

 

Suddenly, the man’s shoulders jerked awake when he saw that I was spying on him.

 

 

“Sorry, you scared me,” he said, looking the slightest bit embarrassed. “I’m just not used to someone else living here.”

 

 

I glanced at the generator. “Is something wrong, Max?”

 

 

“No, just a wire got loose and kept hitting fan,” Max shook his head. For good measure, he hit a button and activated the generator. It was loud but didn’t stop us from conversing. “It’s didn’t affect the generator’s performance but the sound just drove me crazy.”

 

 

I listen to it hum. “What do we need power for again?”

 

 

“There’s an aquifer below this house,” he explained, giving the generator a last minute inspection. “There’s a well in the back I use to draw water but it’s frozen shut. Thankfully, I can also pump it directly into the house if I use the generator. I can also use the power to heat up the water if need be.”

 

 

“We could heat up water on the stove,” I suggested. “My family did that during a blackout when I was a kid. It’ll help save some power.”

 

 

He smiled at me in approval. It made me feel like we were a team. “That sounds like a better idea. But first, I need to take a count of how much fuel I have and store it properly.”

 

 

The two of us went to work taking inventory of supplies. We had a few canisters of fuel for the generator. We had oil for the lanterns. There was also some propone for a gas powered stove he kept as backup. The man looked prepared for the zombie apocalypse from the looks of things.

 

 

Max moved the fuel canisters into a storage space in the basement. It would keep them safe from the elements or if a fire broke out in the basement. Rolling of my sleeves, I tried to get on my knees and help him but my hair kept getting in the way. Unfortunately, I left my hairband upstairs.

 

 

To my surprise, Max stepped in and began trying my hair. Within seconds, he had turned my head into a rather elegant bun. “Where did you learn to tie here like that?”

 

 

“Maria loved having her hair tied by someone else,” he said wistfully, skillfully putting on some final touches. “I guess it was a German thing. Before we went to bed, she’d make me tie her hair as practice. At first, I mangled that beautiful hair of hers. Eventually, I got good enough to do it with my eyes closed.”

 

 

“I could use a personal hairdresser.”

 

 

“And I could use some who actually knows how to cook.”

 

 

The both of us had a laugh at that.

 

 

After taking turns cleaning up in the shower, we cooked lunch. Or I cooked lunch to be more precise. I made Max chop up some vegetables as I prepared some pasta. The blizzard raged outside but I didn’t care. Soon I was as warm and happy as I had ever been.

 

 

Afterwards, we played some boards games. They were fun and didn’t eat up in electricity. Max proved to be a rather skilled player at Hungry-Hungry Hippos.

 

 

I couldn’t help but be somber at the prospect. These games were likely purchased for Max’s son as he got older. He should’ve been playing with Maria and Michael instead of a stranger like me.

 

 

Having been thoroughly defeat, I leaned against Max and watched the lit fireplace. I reach out to hold his hand. It was more out of instinct than a deliberate desire of intimacy. His body was warm and strong like a stone pillar under a hot sun.

 

 

I pressed my chest against his arm. His body was like a whirlpool drawing mine in. In another life, we would’ve been boyfriend and girlfriend enjoying a quiet afternoon together.

 

 

Suddenly, Max broke away and put some distance between us. I felt like I had committed some faux pas towards my gracious host. Immediately, the tension sprung up between us like a rebuilt Berlin Wall.

 

 

He headed towards the kitchen. “Let’s see what we have for dinner.”

 

 

Dinner was much less awkward. We dined on smoked salmon and vegetables. To my surprise, salmon would sometimes spawn in these parts despite its distance from the coast. Although local fishermen sold a variety of catches, Max usually fished for them himself. He smoked the salmon so that he could preserve them for the future.

 

 

Feeling festive, Max broke out a bottle of champagne. One of his clients had given it to him as thanks for helping rebuild his home after a fire destroyed it. I whistled in admiration of the vintage drink. “This must have cost a thousand dollars. You seriously never even opened it?”

 

 

“Even back during my biker days, I never liked drinking alone,” he shrugged, popping the cork. Max poured two drinks in beer mugs. It was all he had available at the moment. “It always made me feel like some alcoholic. Eagles always feast together.”

 

 

“Well, I’m not sure that’s true,” I giggled, tapping my glass against his. “But cheers!”

BOOK: TRAILING TRISHA - A Black Hounds Motorcycle Club Romance (The Fox and the Hounds Book #2)
9.73Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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