A Summer in Sonoma (35 page)

Ready, he reached for the little foil package. “You tired of holding back, baby?” he whispered. “You ready for the payoff?”

“Please,” she whispered, her hands running over his chest, her lips on his neck.

He started to tear the package open, then froze for a second. He stared down into her smoldering eyes, gave her a light kiss and tossed the package away. He entered her sweetly, au naturel. “This may not work, you know….”

“It's never been up to us before, Billy,” she whispered. “It won't be up to us this time, either.”

I
t hadn't been very long since Cassie had realized she was in love with Walt, but it felt like forever. They were so comfortable together, so compatible. It was as if she'd known him since she was a girl. She kept asking herself if she'd ever felt this way before—this sure of her own feelings and his. She had a problem with rushing into things, but she hadn't done that this time. She'd kept Walt waiting a long time.

This was so different than any relationship she'd ever had. This time, rather than hoping to develop trust and confidence, it began with both already firmly in place. Instead of starting out with lust and infatuation, those things had followed a special bond, a deep friendship. And, oh, did the lust ever follow! Walt was a wonderful, tender yet powerful lover. When she was in his arms, no doubt in the world could disturb her. Never before had she felt so cherished, so secure.

There was talk of a gathering of his family soon, so
she could meet all of them—Thanksgiving at the latest. In the meantime, they'd been out to dinner with Judy and Dick once more and had a Sunday brunch with Walt's older brother, his wife and three kids. Getting four boys and their families plus Mom and Dad all in one place at one time seemed to be something of a challenge with their schedules, but so far Cassie was very comfortable with everyone she'd met.

She'd finally been to his house. Small but very nice, just like he'd said. It was an older home—it had about fifty years on it—but it was reconditioned just beautifully with fresh paint, shiny hardwood floors and new appliances and countertops. And it was so tidy—that had shocked her.

“I admit, I went to a little trouble for the first showing,” he said.

“It's almost brand-new inside,” she said, looking around.

“I had some pretty good training at fixing up an old house,” he said. “It might be in my blood.”

So she and Steve had spent a couple of nights because, no matter what their work schedules, they couldn't stand to be apart. But typically they were at Cassie's house. She was the one with an early schedule in the E.R. most days. She'd get up at five-thirty and by the time she was dressed and ready to leave for work, Walt would be rising, heading for the coffeepot first, then into the shower. When they both had a day off, those bike rides didn't start so early.

On a not-very-typical day for them, Walt was the
one up early. Cassie had a day off but Walt was needed at work first thing in the morning. He told her it could be a long day for him—it seemed there were quite a few things he had to finish up. But he promised he'd be caught up quickly so he could enjoy the weekend with her.

So Cassie thought she'd do a little shopping. The holidays were approaching and she always liked to buy a little at a time—it was the way she watched her spending carefully. She spent the morning at Target and got Julie's kids taken care of. By about eleven, she was out of ideas. She'd like to get Walt something really special, but what do you buy a guy as simple and unpretentious as Walt? She had an impulsive idea; she could swing by the Roseville store and see if he was there. She hadn't done that in quite a while and that's where he spent the majority of his time. If she could coax him away for a quick cup of coffee or even lunch, maybe she could eke out of him what would make him happy.

Now that she'd taken the plunge into a relationship with him, she was learning that the bike dealership demanded a lot; this was a man who put in long hours. Seldom did a weekend go by that he didn't at least stop by to see if he was needed. That was good; he never seemed worn out and he clearly loved it. Plus, he liked to spend his money so he had to be about the business of making it! Walt was not afraid of hard work. And being a hard-working girl herself, that impressed Cassie. He was a rare bird.

When Cassie was on her way to his store, she
wondered if he'd told anyone at work about her, about them. It was possible some of his coworkers knew and she was glad she wore her most expensive jeans, heeled boots, turtleneck sweater and dark wool jacket. Her hair was shiny and straight down her back, just the way he liked it. Walt loved scrunching her hair up in his big hands.

She hadn't been by there in a long time, but she recognized the same salesman on the showroom floor from months before. “Hi,” she said. “Do you know if Walt Arneson is here today?”

“He sure is, I saw him,” the guy said. “Let me ask about him.”

He went to a phone on the sales counter, called someone and went back to her. “Someone's coming out to talk to you.”

“Oh. Great,” she said.

A woman in her fifties or so came out onto the floor. The salesman indicated Cassie and the woman approached her. “Hello,” she said. “How can I help you?”

“I was looking for Walt Arneson,” she said. “He's not expecting me. I thought I'd surprise him. Is that okay?”

“I'll have to know your name,” she said, somewhat frostily.

Cassie immediately thought, Uh-oh. I'm going to get him in trouble. “Cassie Rasmussen,” she said. “Really, I don't want to interrupt his schedule…I just thought if he could see me for a minute…”

“I'll check. Stay right here.”

The woman whirled away and was gone. Cassie ap
proached the salesman again and asked, “Excuse me. Who was that woman?”

“That would be Clarice, Walt's gatekeeper. Secretary.” He smiled.

“He has a
secretary?
” she asked, totally shocked.

“Oh, yeah, and look out. She is a lioness. I don't think Walt loves it, but it works, you know? Everyone wants to talk to Walt personally. And he wants to talk to everyone personally, even if he doesn't have the time.”

She remembered about the cell phone number he didn't give out too much. People liked to get his expertise over the phone, save themselves a trip into the shop. “Is that so?” she said.

“You looking for a bike? I'd be glad to help.”

“No, thanks. I was just looking for Walt. But I didn't call ahead, so if he's tied up, I guess I'll have to…I could just leave,” she said reluctantly.

“Wanna sit on a couple of new models while you wait?” he asked, grinning.

“Yeah, why not?”

So the salesman propped her up on several bikes in the showroom, showed her a very entertaining Harley Davidson video, gave her some statistics and when he started talking about their financing programs she looked at her watch and saw that forty-five minutes had lapsed.

“Thanks, but if I need any advice about Harley financing, I'll just ask Walt. I guess he can't break away. I'll let you get back to—”

“Cassie!” she heard Walt say. He came around the counter and approached her and she nearly fainted. It
was Walt all right—ponytail, long sideburns, moustache and all, but he was also wearing a starched long-sleeved shirt and a tie with his pleated slacks and dress boots. He walked right up to her, put his hands on her shoulders and leaned down to kiss her briefly on the lips. “Is anything wrong, honey?”

“No. I thought I'd surprise you and take you out to coffee or even lunch, but…” She lifted the tie off his chest. “You weren't wearing this when you left this morning.”

“I swung by the house and changed. I had to be a little more formal today.”

“I think I caught you in the middle of things. This is odd….”

He looked a bit uncomfortable. He fidgeted, then took her elbow and said, “Come with me, honey. Come on,” he said.

He pulled her through the break in the counter, back into an area that seemed to be made up of small offices. He stopped in front of Clarice. She scowled up at him unhappily. “Clarice,” he said, “this is Cassie, my girlfriend. She never waits, all right? Never. Got that?”

“Got it,” Clarice said. “You have board members in the—”

“Get them lunch. Order in and tell them I'll be right back. Come here, honey,” he said, pulling her into another office. It was small but classy, lots of models, pictures of Harleys, trophies and awards decorated the shelves and walls. The desk was huge, cluttered with paperwork, stacks of files, and there was a window
into a boardroom, a long table around which mostly middle-aged and older men sat, all wearing ties.

“What's up, Cassie?” he asked.

“What's up?” she repeated, looking through the window. “I should ask you that.”

“Board meeting. I'm sorry, I had no idea you'd be stopping by today. I'm locked into this—it's important.”

“Walt,” she said, confused, “why in the world…”

“Honey, I didn't mean to tell you this way, but here it is—this is my store. It's my company. We're going to buy a store in Reno. They're board members and financiers. Bankers. It's going to be a long day. I'm sorry. I don't think I can get away.”

She swallowed. “Your…
company?
”

“Yeah. Well, I have investors.”

She looked through the glass again and saw Walt's father, Dick. Dick smiled and waved at her. She waved back weakly.

“He didn't buy it for me,” Walt said quickly. “It was like I said—I went to work for a store, did what I could do, but then the owners wanted to sell. So I rounded up some investors, was in hock for a little while, got myself out of debt and bought another store and… Just like my dad did with the grocery stores—I had good training. I work on bikes, Cassie. I sell 'em, I take care of customers, I do a little of everything.”

Cassie caught her breath. “You own this store?”

“Well, it's a franchise. There are four stores. Reno would be the fifth. But, yeah, I own 'em. And they own me.”

“Do you have a title? What's your title?”

“Titles,” he said. “They don't really mean any—”

“What?” she insisted.

“Chairman of the Board of Riders, Inc., CEO and President. It's a Harley franchise, a Riders, Inc., chain. It's a nice little business.”

“Walt, it doesn't sound
little.
”

“It's doing great,” he admitted.

“Why didn't you
tell
me?” she demanded. “You were talking about how you'd work as hard as you had to and… Why didn't you
tell
me?”

“Cassie, I kept telling you I had plenty of money. I'm sorry, honey. It was weird. Right away you started talking about how I was just a mechanic. Just a bike mechanic who shouldn't be spending his money. Honey, if we were going to fall in love, I wanted you to fall for Walt the bike mechanic, not Walt the…”

“The
what?
”

“The guy who owned a company. Now come on, nothing's different except you don't have to worry so much about me spending money on you. That's all that's different.”

“But you misled me,” she said quietly, disbelievingly, shaking her head.

“No, I really didn't. I'm still this,” he said, his hands on his chest. “I like to work on bikes, take long rides, visit with the customers. I have a ponytail, a naked lady on my arm and I dress funny. That's the guy I am, Cassie, and even if I had ten stores, I'm still going to be this guy. I don't care about the other stuff. I care about
the store. The people—the ones who come here to shop or for maintenance, and the ones who work for me. I like motorcycles. I don't want to shave or cut my hair. I thought it was worth the gamble.” He eyes sparkled. “Was it worth the gamble?”

“Walt, you should have told me.”

“At first, I just didn't want to make myself…I don't know…more acceptable. More presentable. I wanted you to go for me the way I am. Then I decided I'd save the details for when we were sure of each other, had talked about the future a little. I'm sorry, maybe that wasn't a good idea, but you held me off a long time. I never—”

“Was your family in on it? Did everyone know I thought you were a dirt-poor motorcycle wrench and plot with you to keep the truth from me?”

“No,” he insisted. “No, I never said anything about anything. This—it's just between you and me. Ironing out the details.”

“What if it had come up? What if your dad asked you about the company when I was around?”

“Well, he did, a couple of times, but I don't think you even noticed. So did my brother, when we were with them. If it had come up sooner, if you had questions, I wouldn't have lied about it. But you had this idea about me…”

“Yeah,” she said in a breath. “You must have thought it was pretty funny—me going on about how we might have to tighten up, about how I could work more overtime if I needed to….”

“No, honey, that wasn't funny, it was sweet. I wasn't making fun of you.”

“There were a dozen times you could've stopped me and said, ‘Don't worry about the big check, Cassie—I'm loaded.' How about that first ride—the seven-hundred-dollar jacket?” She shook her head and tears came into her eyes. “You have no idea how much I worried I was going to sweat in it or get makeup on it.” She swallowed convulsively. “You could've said right then that it was
your
jacket. That the whole thing is
yours.
”

“Cassie, listen, I thought when I laid it out for you, it would be good news.”

“Walt, tell me the truth now—are you a millionaire?”

He shrugged. “Maybe on paper…”

“Just on paper?”

“Okay, probably. I'm not strapped for cash, all right? I'm pretty much set.”

“Were you afraid if I found out you're rich, I'd fall in love with your money? Is that it? And then you'd never be sure…”

“Aw, Cassie, no,” he said, reaching for her.

And what if I had? she asked herself. She skittered out of his reach. “What a hoot,” she said, her voice shaky. “I trusted you a lot quicker than you trusted me.”

“That's not—”

“Yeah, it's true. For months I've been worrying about how you're getting by, whether taking me out so much was going to put a strain on your paycheck, since you wouldn't even split the cost of a meal. A while back I even thought about not seeing you anymore if you were going to spend so much of your hard-earned money on things that…Things that didn't matter that much. Like wine that
cost a hundred dollars.” She shook her head. “Do you know how many hours I have to work for something like that?” she asked, a tear spilling down her cheek.