Damn cat.
She’d cried almost all night over him. Her eyes had still been red and baggy when she arrived at work this morning.
All because of a cat who lived a long life. Eighteen spoiled years.
He’d been around Josie’s whole life. Most of Maddie’s, too.
Her husband never liked cats, but then he hadn’t been around when she brought the kitten home from the animal shelter.
Pumpkin helped teach her girls responsibility and also how to be kind to animals. Though, sometimes they fought over whose bed the orange tabby would sleep in. However, that wasn’t their choice. Pumpkin always made that one on his own.
Chelle knelt on a foam gardening pad while pulling some stray weeds. She couldn’t afford to hire someone to do it for her. She used to make the girls help for some spare cash, but now Maddie was busy with college and her job. And Josie was busy with high school, her part-time job and her extracurricular activities. Ones Chelle hoped would get her into a good college and maybe even land her a scholarship to help pay for that education.
She and her husband thought a college degree was important for their future, so they’d started funds for both girls as soon as they were born. Luckily, her daughters always had a good work ethic and worked summer and part-time jobs when they could. Though, any money they earned went to their cars. Chelle couldn’t help pay for both.
Not on her salary.
It would’ve been cheaper to find a spot to bury Pumpkin instead of spending the money on cremating him, but...
She wasn’t ready to let that damn cat go.
She used the back of her wrist, avoiding her dirty gardening gloves, to wipe away the sting in her eyes.
She was done crying over that damn cat.
She sniffled. Damn it.
Pumpkin had managed to wrap his little paws around her heart the second she saw him in the cage with his littermates.
She ripped out the next dandelion from between the flowers with more force than necessary and tossed it into the five-gallon bucket next to her. Then, with a groan, she rose to her feet.
God, once she hit forty it seemed everything on her had started to fall apart. Forty seemed to have been some magical number. Now she was forty-one.
And still alone.
Hell, more alone now that her girls were almost all grown up.
She took a deep inhale and turned with a frown when the motorcycle slowed and pulled into her driveway with a deep rumble.
What the hell?
Her heart began to race as she realized the rider was wearing one of those leather vests. The ones the members of that MC, based right outside of town, wore.
She couldn’t see the man’s face which made it even worse. It was covered from the nose down with black fabric that made his face look like the bottom half of a skull. His eyes were covered with dark sunglasses and his hair covered in another piece of black fabric, similar to a do-rag.
She quickly gauged the distance between her and the front door. Could she make it?
She had stupidly left her cell phone inside.
Maybe she could scream and a couple of her neighbors would help.
She should run now.
Now.
She should...
The bike became quiet and her frown deepened when the man yanked down the face covering and removed the one from his head.
Wait.
She recognized that hair. She’d only seen that color, that length, those curls on one man.
Shawn from Tioga Pet Crematorium.
What the hell?
With her heart beating in her throat, she began to move toward the porch steps anyway, keeping one eye on him.
Did that MC own the crematorium? She knew they owned a few businesses in town.
While none of them had ever caused problems in Manning Grove recently—that she knew of—the whispers in town had also hit her ears. A couple decades ago, the MC had caused a lot of problems. Murder and mayhem, people said.
And, of course, working in the local school district, she heard all the gossip.
“Shawn?” she called out, causing those sunglasses to turn her way.
In the slight hesitation before he jerked up his chin at her, she could’ve sworn he’d been checking her out from head to toe.
Huh.
Did she have dirt on her face? She glanced down. Or did she get her clothes stained?
He removed his vest and draped it inside out over the seat of his motorcycle. Why would he do that? To hide what it said on the back? Too late, she had already recognized it.
She had seen some of their members around town. Especially at Dino’s Diner, so she knew what—or who—those vests represented. She’d also seen a big, bearded man wearing one while dropping off Daisy Lange some mornings at school.
There seemed to be quite a few now. Just a couple of years ago, there hadn’t been any. Most likely because she’d been told the club had disbanded a long time ago.
She had no idea what changed. Why they seemed to be everywhere now.
Still... This man... the man from the crematorium wore one of those vests and was riding what looked like a Harley.
So...
He was in that motorcycle gang.
Shawn turned, dug into one of the black leather bags hanging on the side of the bike and removed a small wood box along with what looked like paperwork.
Pumpkin.
The man was delivering Pumpkin just like he said he would.
She hadn’t realized it was four o’clock already. She must have lost track of time while she weeded.
She forgot to breathe as he moved up her walkway. His gait was long, but smooth, his hips loose. The worn black T-shirt he wore pulled tightly over his broad chest and shoulders. His arms—what she could see of them—were completely tatted up. If what she saw was any indication, he had two full sleeves. She also wondered if the rich color of his skin was from the sun or what he was born with. With his skin tone, the color of his eyes, his hair, and the shape of his nose, plus the dark facial hair, he looked like he had some Spanish in him. Or Portuguese. Or Greek... One of those warm places. Exotic.
He wasn’t huge but looked solid.
She released her bottom lip once she realized it had been tucked between her teeth.
And why did any of this matter?
It shouldn’t. She shouldn’t be checking out some biker who worked at a pet crematorium.
No, that wasn’t right. She shouldn’t be checking out a biker. Period.
Especially one who had to be at least ten years younger than her.
But, my oh my, watching the way he walked up to where she now stood on her porch made her a bit... thirsty.
She hadn’t had someone like him quench her thirst in a long time...
She closed her eyes and groaned at her own thoughts. Right now, she was no better than her girls when checking out cute boys, elbowing each other and giggling.
What the hell, Chelle? Were you out in the sun too long?
“You okay?”
Holy cannoli, that voice, too. Honey-coated gravel. Smooth, with just enough grit.
Gutter, meet Chelle. She needs to remove her thoughts from you.
She opened her eyes and had to look up slightly since he now stood almost toe to toe with her. She wasn’t quite short, but he was definitely taller than her.
“Yes.” Oh my God, that came out way more breathless than it should have. Heat crept into her cheeks.
He slowly removed his sunglasses and hung them from the neck of his T-shirt. His dark brown, almost black, eyes, surrounded by thick black lashes a woman would kill for, traced every inch of her face.