Suddenly, I think a little trouble this weekend might not be a bad thing.
She joins Cleo and holds the door open for her and the baby. As Cleo turns around, I get a glimpse of her biker’s patch for the first time.
In emblazoned red letters on the back of her jacket, it reads “Property of the Underground Crows MC.”
4
STELLA
The grass squelches under my boots as I trudge through the field, dodging around groups of men in leather. On the far side of the field, a van waves a white flag with Coffee written on it, and that’s where I’m heading.
My eyes sting from lack of sleep, and there’s a crick in my neck. The trundle bed had a saggy mattress and no pillow. And I was woken several times by Charlie crying and then in the morning by Nina, Cleo and Kray’s adopted daughter, jumping on me.
A man steps in front of me, laughing at something his friend said and completely oblivious of his surroundings. I bump into him as he passes, and the stench of stale beer makes me cough.
The men stagger away and I put my head down and keep going, my sole focus the beacon of hope that is the coffee truck.
It rained overnight, and it can’t have been nicesleeping out in the tent area. No wonder they partied into the night. And by the looks of some of them, well into the morning too.
The music carried access the field and into the motel. I could have gone with the other Crows to the party, but I’m not here to court trouble. I preferred to stay in with Cleo and the kids and stay well away from any temptation.
My mind strays to Will, who is the biggest temptation I’ve seen here so far. But something tells me he wouldn’t have been at the party either. He didn’t seem like the type to drink in the rain.
Away from the camping area, stalls are set up to sell food and merchandise and other crafts. A stage is at the far end of the field, and at this time of the morning it’s all kids’ entertainers.
Cleo brought the kids over this morning for the kids’ shows, but I got tired of watching a biker in a clown suit and wandered off to look at the stalls.
There’s a program of speakers and bands throughout the day culminating in the headline act tonight. But right now, it’s coffee I need.
I finally make it across the field and join the long line for the coffee van. The two women behind the counter look harried as they grind beans and steam milk at a furious pace for the needy customers. The delicious smell of freshly brewed coffee hangs in the air. I breathe in deep, and the rich scent puts a smile on my face.
“You look happy this morning.”
I jump at the gravelly voice, and the hairs on the backof my neck stand on end. A shiver zaps down my spine, and I turn to find Will behind me. He’s freshly shaved, and his eyes are bright. He looks like he slept well. He looks good, even with the purple bruise around his left temple.
“You scared me.” I put a hand over my racing heart, and his eyes dart to my chest then back up to my face.
“I have to stop doing that. I don’t want another bruise.”
At mention of the bruise, I wince. “I’m so sorry about yesterday.”
He frowns at me. “Don’t say another word about it.”
“How are the butterfly stitches holding?” I reach my hand out to touch his head then hesitate. “May I?”
His eyes lock on mine as my fingers hover over his forehead. They’re the deepest brown I’ve ever seen, almost black.
I didn’t realize I’d stepped closer to him, and our faces are only inches apart. I’m tall, five foot nine, and I’m almost eye level with him. I like that Will’s taller than me. It’s hard finding men who are.
“You may.” There’s a sparkle in his eyes when he says it, like it’s amusing to him.
I carefully slide the hair on his temple back so I can see the wound. There’s no fresh blood, and the thin butterfly stitches seem to be doing the job of holding the skin together.
I run my hand over them, and he flinches. “Sorry.”
“Stop apologizing, Stella.” It comes out as a growl, causing a new wave of heat to course through my veins.There’s a pull low in my belly, and my knees feel wobbly.
“Does it hurt? Do you have a headache?”
