Uncle Walker had nine years left out of a twenty-five-year sentence for killing two men. The article claimed it was a gang war because the victims were Cusclan Motorcycle Club members.
No one ever talked about Uncle Walker's crimes. It wasn't until she'd entered ninth grade and learned how to use the microfiche at the library that she found the records.
She was young when Tarkio Motorcycle Club was a part of her everyday life, but she wasn't stupid. Her uncle lived and breathed the brotherhood. If he'd killed—and the court system proved he had—then, he'd done it for Tarkio.
Each member, including Curley, were just as much responsible for the deaths as Uncle Walker.
She looked over her shoulder and switched lanes, spotting a motorcycle rider behind her, motioning an arm in the air for her to pull over. Recognizing Curley, she had the urge to keep going.
Anytime they were together, any conversation turned into a war. Most of the time, she felt like it was Tarkio Motorcycle Club that had the part of Curley she wanted as his old lady. He was quick to run whenever the phone rang, and she couldn't do anything to entice him to her house. He partied at the clubhouse, yet refused to spend time with her.
She hit the back of her head against the headrest and blew air out of her tight lips. He frustrated her. Somehow, he always gave her a glimmer of hope that he wanted her as much as she wanted him, and those signs he gave off, kept her hanging on.
When he touched her, she could see how he reacted. He could feel how she trembled. She'd swear he was obsessed with her but for him always leaving.
If he'd only spend time with her instead of with the motorcycle club, and let go of that damn control he held onto so fiercely.
One day, he'd realize she wasn't a young girl anymore. She had a lifetime of love to give him, and maybe, just maybe, she would be the best he'd ever had if he allowed himself to act on his feelings.
She exited the highway and pulled over into a small gravel patch at the side of the road. The noise of his Harley filtered in through her open window before shutting off.
Putting the car in park and taking her foot off the brake, she watched him in the side mirror stalk toward her.
His broad body filled the window. He braced his hand on the door and bent down. She gazed into his dark, brown eyes. Over the years, she'd had one person who remained a constant in her life. Curley was always there. He never forgot her birthday or Christmas, and he'd stood beside her at the prison and when Grandma June died.
Even though he hated her now for her part in having sex with him, she was glad he'd claimed her. Their relationship status meant he would never leave her unless he got killed. And, she'd take him, even if he never allowed himself to love her.
He was better than her mom, who'd abandoned her before her addiction took her life. He was better than her Uncle Walker, who'd promised to take care of her but ended up in prison. He was better than Grandma June, who'd died on her—life was unfair that way.
When he continued to stand there looking at her and not saying a word, she said, "What?"
He reached behind him and pulled a stack of money out of his pocket, tossing it into the backseat of her car.
Heaviness settled on her. "I don't want..."
He walked back to his motorcycle. Her gaze went to the mirror. Why wouldn't he ever admit that he liked when they had sex or that before she'd slept with him, he cared about her? That's all she wanted from him.
Putting her foot on the brake, she shifted the car into drive and pulled back on the road. Punching the accelerator, she roared away from him.
Curley could go back to his life, pretending he was a single biker. There were probably a hundred women who were standing around, waiting for their chance with him.
She exhaled loudly, letting the wind cool her off. Meanwhile, she would go back to Superior. To a house that belonged to her. To plants that needed watered and cared for. To her life alone.
Chapter 3
Faye
The water system, plumbed through the greenhouse, sent a fine mist through the air. Faye brushed the hair off her forehead with the back of her dirty hand. The warmer temperature inside the building dried what water landed on her.
Grabbing the handles of the wheelbarrow, she pushed a load of old potting soil to the end of the greenhouse and dumped the contents in the compost barrel. She picked up the hose and sprayed the mixture down, then gave two turns to the handle.
"Faye, are you out here?"
She shut off the water and looked toward the front opening, spotting Jenna. Happy to see her friend, she waved her in and met her halfway down the center aisle.
"I thought you were going to get your haircut today," she said.
"I'm on my way there now." Jeanna clasped her hands together. "I came to beg a favor from you."
"You know I'll help in any way I can. What do you need?"
"My sister came into town for her baby shower and is staying with my parents—"
"I remember you telling me that," she said.
"Well, guess who forgot to order the flowers?" Jeanna scrunched her nose.
Faye laughed. "Good thing you have a friend who owns a nursery, huh?"
Jeanna exhaled in relief. "You're the best."
"Come on, let's pick out something beautiful." She tugged Jeanna with her to the front, where she forced the plants to bloom out of season, so her customers had access to them all year long. "Are you looking for cut flowers? Because I'm no florist. But I'm sure together we can whip up something presentable."
"I was thinking something in a pot about this big..." Jenna held her hands up as if holding a basketball. "Something that is blooming, and she can plant in the ground when she gets home to remember her baby shower year after year."
"You'll want perennials." She turned and walked to the left. "Start here while I go grab a pot. We can mix and match any of these together, and then she can plant them in the ground, and they'll bloom each summer."
Finding a white plastic pot with a lace pattern around the rim, Faye returned to find Jenna holding a Blue Lobelia. "Is she having a boy?"
"She doesn't know, but I love this plant."
How about mixing a pink plant with a blue one?" She gazed over the ground cover pots and reached for the Snow in Winter plant. "This will add some tiny white blooms with the dusty greenage, softening the two other colors since they're so vibrant. We want to focus on the daintiness of everything together. Small reminds me of a baby."
Jenna held up an Ice Plant. "Will this work?"
"Perfect. That's a succulent, and will give her a good variety and fill in the pot." She carried two plants. "Bring it to the table, and I'll plant them all for you."
Filling the container with fertilized potting soil, she quickly set the arrangement and stood back, cocking her head. There was something missing. It was too perfect as if she tried too hard.
"It looks great," said Jenna.
"Hang on." She hurried over to the outer row of plants and grabbed a newly bloomed yellow daisy. The plant was only two inches tall. It would be at least two weeks until the plant grew, and she could sell it, but it would work perfect as filler and add to the baby colors in the pot.