Nolan by Lane Hart, D.B. West
Chapter Three
Rita
Nolan saves us a little time by asking for my order and giving it to the waitress as soon as we sit down in the mostly empty diner. Not many other people are out and about at nearly three in the morning on a way too early Friday morning.
“So, what’s your second job, Cherry Pie?” Nolan asks while we wait for our food. “What do you do when you’re not tempting all of mankind, bringing them beers in that sexy, little, black dress?”
I smile at his comment despite myself. “I’m an office assistant for an accountant. The first half of the year is our busiest, but we also handle payroll and all for small businesses, so they keep me on thirty-nine hours a week year-round.”
“An hour short of having to give you benefits. How decent of them,” Nolan mutters, making me smile at his indignation on my behalf.
“Yes, it sucks, but the pay is decent. Then I make more in tips at the strip club than I would there, obviously.”
“Obviously,” the biker agrees as his eyes lower to my cleavage. “Still, working every night is a lot.”
“It is, but I like to stay busy. I get about five hours or so of sleep a night, then have a quick nap sometimes on my lunch hour or the two-hour dinner break before I go to the club.”
“And how long do you plan to maintain these insane hours?” Nolan asks.
“Until Cory finishes college.”
“Cory is your brother?”
“Yes.” When he keeps staring at me, waiting for me to say more, I tell him, “Our parents died six years ago in a house fire. I was nineteen, and Cory was only ten. Neither of us were home the night it happened, which was either lucky for us or unfortunate for our mom and dad, since one of us may have been able to wake them up. Anyway, there wasn’t any insurance money, so that left us to fend for ourselves. We suddenly had no place to live after a grace period in a hotel paid for by the Red Cross. I had a part-time job at a retail store that I begged the manager to make full time. It wasn’t much, but it helped us afford to get an apartment and gave me some time to find better jobs. Since Cory was still a kid, the whole burden fell on me.”
“You didn’t have any other family or friends who could help?”
“Have you seen this town in the daylight? Most of the people who live here aren’t doing much better than I am. It’s a tourist town, which means falls and winters are hard. Everyone pretty much scrapes to get by. My mom had two brothers — one was a long-distance trucker who was never home, and the other was creepy, so that crossed them both off the list. My grandparents were all old and in nursing homes or already in the grave. Now they all are. So, it’s just me and Cory.”
“He’s sixteen now?”
“Yes.”
“Old enough to get a job and help out.”
I shake my head. “No. He needs to focus on his grades, keeping his head above water so he can go to college, something I never could do.”
“Why should he get an easy life and you a hard one?” Nolan asks.
“Because he’s a kid! He didn’t ask to become an orphan at ten years old. Losing our parents was really hard on him.”
“And it wasn’t for you?” the biker asks.
“Of course it was. But I’m nine years older than him, and he needed me to be strong.”
“That sort of determination and loyalty makes me want you even more,” Nolan says. My cheeks warm up instantly, hating how I feel like I’m under a microscope in the restaurant with all the bright lights shining down on us. I prefer being in the club where it’s dark and more flattering.
“Here you go,” the waitress says when she brings over a tray of food. “Two stacks of pancakes and two sides of bacon. Let me know if you need anything else.”
“Thank you,” Nolan and I both say to her before glancing at each other and sharing a small smile.
Still nervous around him, I lower my eyes to my steaming plate. Reaching for the glass syrup dispenser on the table, I pour it over my stack.
“So, you know all about me and I still don’t know much about you other than that you’re in a motorcycle gang,” I remark.
“It’s a motorcycle club,” Nolan replies when he takes the syrup from me. “And that’s about all there is to know about me.”
“Liar.”
“Not much to tell, nothing as exciting or tragic as your life has been.”
“That doesn’t mean I don’t want to hear it,” I say while using my fork to cut a piece of pancake. “Convince me you’re not just some random pervert trying to get in my pants.”
“All right,” he says with a chuckle. “I don’t have many close friends – just Hugo and Abel, who I met a few years ago in the MC. I like riding my Harley up and down the coast no matter how cold or hot it is. I hate the rain because it means getting drenched or not being able to ride. I don’t have a home because I move around too much, so all my shit is mostly sitting in a storage building in Georgia. And finally, I’m planning to stay in this shitty little town until you tell me to leave.”
“Yeah, right,” I say with a roll of my eyes.
“I could put down roots,” he says. “Eventually. For the right woman.”
“What about your family?” I ask when he omitted anything about them.
“My parents are still together, and I have two older sisters. They’re all still alive as far as I know.”
“You’re not close to them?” I guess when he doesn’t elaborate.
He leans back in the booth, looking uncomfortable talking about this particular topic. “No. I’m no longer close to any of them.”
“Why not?” It seems wrong to avoid his family. If my parents were alive…well, everything in my life would be different.
He lifts his amber eyes to mine and stares at me for several silent moments as if deciding whether or not I’m worth telling his secrets. I don’t blame him, since we just met.
“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want…” I start before he interrupts.
“It’s not all rainbows and sunshine, Cherry Pie.”
“That’s okay. Tell me anyway. If you want…”
“My parents basically disowned me when I was nineteen. I fucked up, got caught doing some stupid shit, and had to serve time.”
“Time as in…go to prison?” I say in concern, now realizing why he hesitated. A criminal record is not exactly on my top ten list of qualities for a man I want to date or ever sleep with.
“Yep.”
“What did you do?”
His jaw clenches, and I think he’s going to refuse to answer. And if he does, then that’s the end of this little tryst.
“I didn’t hurt anyone,” Nolan starts.
“Okay.”
“There was this girl I was seeing, nothing serious. She was a wild one, a spoiled rich girl who had a thing for adrenaline, and I was an idiot for wanting to try and impress her or whatever. So, when she suggested we take her father’s classic Aston Martin out for a spin, I went along for the ride. Literally.”
“And? That can’t be the end of the story, so don’t leave me hanging.”
“I was driving when we got pulled over, and that was all she wrote.”
“What? You got arrested for that even though she was with you?”
“Oh, as soon as the cop showed up, the girl, Brooke, turned on the waterworks, telling the officer she had begged me not to take her daddy’s classic car out of the garage. He believed she was innocent. So did her father. He was pissed we put a few miles on it when he didn’t even dare drive it.”
“But still, you went to prison for that?”
Nolan nods his head slowly. “Served six months behind bars.”
“And the daughter didn’t get into any trouble?”
“Fuck no. I think her father was happy enough to send me away, keep her from seeing me, like I was the bad influence.”
“Jeez, that’s bullshit!”
“Tell me about it,” he chuckles. “In our small town, it was major gossip. My father was a family doctor, and my mother ran in all the uppity social circles. They were mortified. When I went to jail, they decided to pretend I didn’t exist. My sisters wrote me a few times before the letters stopped coming. When I got out, I didn’t go home again.”
“You haven’t spoken to them since?” I say in surprise.
“Nope. And I haven’t stopped any place long enough to call it home again either. But like I said, for the right woman, I could try.” He grins and gives me a wink at that, trying to lighten the mood.
“Try? That’s not exactly a glowing endorsement,” I remark. “And I’m certainly not naïve enough to believe I could be that woman. You’re a self-described wanderer. In a few days, you’ll get bored, and then you’ll leave in search of more…well, more of whatever it is you’re looking for.”
“Maybe. Maybe not,” he answers before shoving a piece of bacon in his mouth and chewing it. “As a nomad, I’ll always have to hit the road when duty calls, so that’ll give me enough excitement to keep me happy. All I need is a woman to come home to, one I know won’t get sick of waiting around or think I’m disloyal just because I’m not in the same room, and then I’ll be set.”
“It’ll be hard to convince anyone that a man like you would be happy with just one woman.”
“I won’t deny that I’ve had plenty of women, all different kinds over the years. But I’m twenty-nine now, and quality is starting to be more important than quantity. Hookups have lost their appeal. I’m not saying I want to settle down, get married, and have kids or anything anytime soon, but I am fully capable of being faithful to one beautiful, sexy woman.”