The Sweet Under His Skin (20 page)

She headed back inside with a shy, sixth-grade-date-awkward wave to Quentin, honed in on the relative comfort of her kitchen. "Calvin," she shouted when she heard the bathroom door open in her bedroom. "What do want with the pork chops?"

"Can we have the tater-tot special again?"

Arielle winced. They'd had it for his birthday, and it was delicious. But it was also tater-tots, butter, cheese and bacon. Although, she wasn't too worried about weight gain at this point in time.

"Okay," she relented. "Is it okay if Quentin comes for supper too?"

His grin tripled in size. "Yeah!"

"Okay, good. Go see if he needs any more help today."

"Thanks, Aunt Arielle!" He completely ignored her open arms, which usually meant‘hug me’, and raced for the front door, throwing open the screen and tearing off down the stoop.

She got everything ready for the tater-tot…casserole? Was that a good term for it? Aunt Thelma used to make it for her and Jolene using hash-brown patties when they were growing up. It was both disgusting and delicious. She decided to also roast a few potatoes, for the adults. Okay, for her and Thelma.

Arielle was slaughtering a block of marble cheese with her shredder when Thelma arrived, putting a bag on the table with a "How's everyone doing?" before she gasped and rushed at Arielle. Arielle was turning around just as Thelma grabbed her face. "Your hair! What happened?!" She wasn't upset, she seemed to really love it.

Arielle grinned. "A friend took me to a salon today. They're making my hair into a wig."

Aunt Thelma had been fluffing her hair up a bit, then she froze. "Friend?"

Arielle nodded. "She's a…friend of Quentin's, actually. She took me there. She…bought me a wig."

Thelma's entire face softened. "Oh, honey. That's…that's so wonderful."

Arielle felt tears. Again. "Yeah, I thought it was pretty cool, too."

Thelma hugged her then pulled back and gave a thoughtful smile. "Arielle, honey. I haven't asked you about your neighbor but—"

"Aunt Thelma—"

"No, no. I get to say something, I'm older than you." Arielle took a deepbreath, but made her‘carry on’ motion anyway. Thelma sat in at the kitchen table sideways, arm on the tabletop, the other on the back of the chair. "Is anything going on?"

Arielle turned away to the cheese and tater-tots to answer. "No."

"Arielle," Thelma chastised.

"I don't know," she said over her shoulder. "I'm not in a good place. I can't even…consider that."

"Jesus, sweetheart. I'm not saying marry him."

That made Arielle turn around. "What?"

Thelma titled her head. "I may never have married, but that doesn't mean I'm going to my grave as pure as the day I was born."

Arielle had to blink a couple times. "Aunt Thelma!"

"What? You're not a child anymore, Arielle. You can handle hearing this." Arielle rubbed her eyes, trying to position the woman talking to her right then as the aunt she'd known since birth. "And if that was living next door to me it'd take a lot more than cancer to keep me out of his bed."

"Aunt Thelma!" Arielle knew it was silly, and she was too old to think of adults the same way she did when she was sixteen, but…

"I know what I walked in on, on Calvin's birthday, Arielle. I've been sitting around, patiently waiting for you to wake up, but it's not happening. Calvin just informed me Quentin's coming over for supper tonight? So you invited him just because?"

"It's to celebrate my last round of radiation, Aunt Thelma. He's been nearly babysitting Calvin this entire time." She heard how her voice went into teenager mode but that's how it was with Aunt Thelma. Thelma chewed her lip.

"He's too good-looking. Isn't he?” Arielle asked. “It's intimidating... I don't want to disappoint."

Arielle blinked. "You could never! And I don't think it's how he looks, I think it's…being around him... Charm," Thelma guessed. "Yes, he's charming. How old do you think he is?"

Arielle shrugged. "I couldn't even guess. I'm sure he's older than I am, maybe early thirties..."

"I'm going to tell you a story. Can you handle it?"

"Can I reserve the right to stop you if you freak me out?"

Thelma waved a hand at the chair across from her, and Arielle sat with one leg bent underneath her, in case she felt the intense need to escape. "Back when I first bought my farm, there was this man who I would hire every fall when he rolled through. He was just looking for a bit of work, a real rolling stone." Aunt Thelma smiled, suddenly looking very young. "He rode a motorcycle, too. He wasn't in a club or anything, but he spent every spring, summer and fall riding across the country. I was so envious of that. And the way he filled out a pair of Levis? I tell you, sweetheart, it should have been a crime."

That made Arielle grin. And squirm. "He was fifteen years younger than me. The first time he kissed me I didn't know if I should kiss him back or take him over my knee for Christ's sake." Thelma's eyes got twinkly, just a little. "Some of the best nights of my life were spent letting that boy kiss me. I knew it wouldn't last past autumn. I knew he wasn't going to be all mine. But…I'd never give up those three autumns, even knowing what I know now."

"Thelma—"

"You took on Calvin, honey. Someone else's mistake, but you made it your responsibility. You've always been a little grown-up in one way or another. That whole oldest sibling thing." Now Thelma looked sad. "You should have seen how you looked right after he kissed you, honey. Ten years younger. A thousand pounds of responsibility lighter. So beautiful. He took everything away for a second."

Arielle's nose tingled. Her eyes felt wet. "Thelma—"

"Your mother would kill me for saying this, but…if he makes you feel that good, then let him. Enjoy being young while you can. Like I did. There's no shame in being happy, Arielle. And that man? The way he held you? And was touching you?" Thelma shook her head. "You deserve that right now. You deserve something that makes you feel good."

Arielle felt heat prickling her cheeks. "I…I don't know what to say to that."

"Don't say anything. Just consider it. Because, although I don't know him from a hole in the ground, I'd say you can trust him to be kind to you." They shared a moment of eye contact, then Thelma clapped her hands together. "Okay, I brought my cookie dough. Let's get these in the oven!"

"What’s this?" Quentin asked, pointing at the baggies Bishop had just thrown down on the table in front of them.

He'd gotten a call from the president late afternoon to come to the clubhouse right away. Impromptu meeting. Now there were four small baggies of white crystals on the table, and even though he'd asked he knew what it was.

"That's the new ice on the streets. Dillon just found it on Trixie."

"Who the fuck's Trixie?" Quentin snapped.

"Dark-haired one with the snatch like a steel trap," Dillon answered.

"Oh." Yeah, he knew which one that was. "Shit. She's an ice-head?"

Bishop nodded. "I guess so. Smoking, not shooting. It's harder to tell."

"She say where she was getting it?" Gage asked, stroking his beard.

"Skinny white kid outside the gas station on Harrow. She bought it today."

"Recruited some more dealers," Dillon pointed out the obvious.

"Or sent some in," Bishop muttered, rubbing his forehead. "Dillon, you and Gage go take a look into this guy at the gas station. See if he's there. Quentin, you wanna tag along?"

Quentin rubbed his hands on his jeans. He was dying to take out more of these dealers, but he had supper at Arielle's. And he didn't want to be late for it. So how could he share that without sounding totally pussy-whipped?

"I got something tonight, can't do," he answered ambiguously.

Dillon raised his eyebrows. "Really? Book club is it?"

"Nah, tonight's the night he calls bingo at the Senior's Centre," Gage croaked from the far end of the table. That cut all those pricks up.

Quentin just nodded, biting his lip hard. "That's right, fuckers. Laugh it up."

"Is it a date?" Bishop asked, bringing the room to utter silence.

Quentin didn't look up from his hands. "No, not a date."

"Shit," Dillon muttered. "It's that piece next door to 'ya, isn't it?" Quentin just kept staring at his hands.

"She looks like she smells good," Gage chuckled.

They'd all seen her the day she knocked down that dealer in his driveway, wearing a low-cut top and her short shorts and looking absolutely fuckable like she always did. And Gage's comment made him crank his hands into fists.

"What was that?" Quentin asked, head tilted.

"Enough of this," Bishop snapped, bringing everyone's head around. "None of us should want to know anything about where Quentin sticks it."

"Unless he's planning on sharing," Dillon amended with a grin. "I'd take seconds on that."

Quentin wasn't sure what happened. One second he was sitting next to his brother, and the next he had the bastard up against the wall by the neck of his shirt, plowing his fist into Dillon's cheekbone.

Two more of his brothers were pulling him back, and the room was a mess of raised voices and curse words. Dillon, for his part, looked completely shocked by Quentin's reaction, which was the only reason Quentin didn't get a retaliatory belt in his beak.

Bishop was the one to toss Quentin off Dillon, Quentin ending up half sitting on the table. "Fucking hell," Bishop roared. "Dillon, take Gage and get the hell out of here. Now. Everyone else out." He pointed a finger at Quentin. "You. Stay." Everyone cleared out, and Quentin took the moment to straighten his kutte, not looking any of his brothers in the eye. Once the doors were shut again he brought his face up to Bishop's. "You gotta sort your shit out," Bishop snapped. "What the fuck is that about?"

Quentin sighed, running his hand through his hair. "Nothing. I'm on edge."

"About what? The broad next door? Honest to Christ, I can't have you falling apart on account of pussy, man. I can't have that, Quentin."

"I know, Bishop. I'm sorry. I just…I don't like them talking about Arielle like that. She ain't another crawler."

"And you know the guys will bust your balls for it. Because she's not another biker whore. And they likely don't think you really mean it. The places your dick has been don't show you to be picky, Quentin."

"I just don't want them talking that way about her," he repeated.

“Move the fuck on, man. She ain’t for this life. Just stick to the bitches we got here for you, yeah. And no more fistfights over gash in fucking the clubhouse, got it?"

Quentin nodded, chastised and cracking his knuckles in nervousness. "Got it..." Bishop raised his eyebrows, obviously not believing it. "I got it!"

Bishop nodded. "Did Mandy actually take her shopping today?"

"Yeah. She's gonna lose her hair during chemo. They cut it off today, and Mandy's got this lady making her a wig I guess."

Bishop blinked a couple times. "Fuck, Quentin, you're such a pain in my ass."

"Yeah, I know." He didn't know where that accusation came from, but it was usually true so he agreed without hesitation.

"If Mandy likes her, you cannot fuck this girl over. Mandy will tear your dick off with her bare hands."

"I know."

"Probably feed it to her fucking cat."

"I know."

"And then I'll be hearing about it, too." Quentin just nodded. "Fuck... Play house with the cutie-pie next door. But you know what these assholes are like when they think you're keeping a secret. You're not gonna be able to hide it. You're a shitty liar."

Quentin grinned. "Yeah, I know."

"And if she's willing to be with a miserable prick like you, you need to bring her out. Introduce her. Having her part of you when none of us know her is gonna make the guys nervous. You know that too. No matter how much she and Mandy might become best friends."

"I know. But she's shy. I don't want them scaring her off."

"When did you turn into such a pussy? She's gotta be tougher than that to be part of this club, Quentin," Bishop said quietly. "The women gotta prove themselves just as much as we do." Quentin nodded. "If you want them respecting her, you gotta show her the respect of letting her get to know your family, man." Quentin looked at his feet, knowing every word Bishop said was true. The scariest part was that he was thinking this way about a broad. "Now go have dinner with your neighbor. Bring her a bottle of wine or something. And get fucking laid before your frustration ends up killing any of my guys, got it?"

Quentin shook his head, but knew not to argue. "Later," was all he said as he made for his bike.

And he did stop for a bottle of white wine on his way back to his house. And like Calvin's birthday, he showered and put a clean shirt on before heading over.

Calvin let him in the door with a big "Hi, Q!" Then the kid bounded through the living room into the kitchen shouting "Q's here!"

Aunt Thelma stepped out of the kitchen entryway, grinning broadly. "Quentin, nice to see you again."

"Aunt Thelma," he greeted, surprising her by winding his arm around her back and kissing her cheek. "You're looking plenty saucy tonight."

"Oh, you flirt," she mumbled, shoving him off but giggling all the same.

"Damn, losing my touch," he mumbled back, grinning across the kitchen at Arielle and holding out the bottle of wine the broad at the store had recommended. "For dinner," he declared proudly.

"Thanks," Arielle said, taking the bottle and putting it in the fridge. Dammit, her ass looked great in jeans, too. He had to avert his eyes with Aunt Thelma in the room.

"Can I help with anything?" He wiped his hands on his shirt front like that cleared him for kitchen duty.

"Can you use those burly muscles of yours to open this jar of pickles, for me?" Thelma asked, handing it over, still a little red-faced. "Damn arthritis."

"Love to, doll," he grinned.

As the seal of the jar popped and he handed it back, Quentin admitted to himself that Bishop was right. This woman let her in his house, sat him down to eat with her aunt and nephew; the only people she really had in the whole world. Hell, he'd even met her shit-show of a sister. In return, he was trying to shove her in a corner and keep her away from the people that mattered to him. Bishop met her by accident and Mandy had forced her own introduction on Arielle. What an asshole he was. And the thought of showing her off made him grin for some reason.