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5
Porsche came up to Hack’s and Preacher Girl’s house. There were members who carried weight and the silent ones, Hack, had a following he probably didn’t even know about. Hero worship isn’t always about crazed fans running around asking for autographs. Talking Bounty or Freaky into stripping would turn quickly into discussions on exactly how much they had to keep covered for legal purposes and would cause few to want to follow suit. If Hack was willing to step on stage others would see the value.
Problem being, he was the same one who stormed into the Roadside when Preacher Girl was trying to find her place in the town and literally pulled her from the stage. The girl was rough and they were only practicing, but that woman was his and his alone from the moment he found her cowering in a closet in little more than a slip. Every man knew it before the man realized the truth himself. That didn’t mean he was against stripping, just not for his woman.
Knocking on their door she glanced down at her phone and saw that it was after ten in the morning. They should be up. Little Matty was barely a month old and both mom and dad were recovering and bonding with the newborn. Unless Preacher Girl was doing the whole sleep when the baby sleeps she shouldn’t be disturbing them.
Preacher Girl answered the door with her patented sweet smile. Her stick straight brown hair held back by a pair of sunglasses. Normally waif thin she appeared unbothered by the new curves staying with her as she stood in yoga pants and a t-shirt with capped sleeves.
“Hey, Porsche, you wanna come in?” she asked, the questioning look not surprising since they weren’t exactly the best of friends. While the Steels were a family for the most part, the two of them might as well be distant cousins that may say hi at a family reunion while dishing up food before falling back into their own safe spaces.
“Thanks, yes,” Porsche said as she followed her to the kitchen. “This place turned out really nice.”
“You haven’t been by since we got it finished have you?” she said. “All I have to offer you is tap water or hours old coffee.”
“Hack made that?” Porsche questioned, while she’d had some coffee that morning a boost would be nice. Only Hack didn’t make gently boosting coffee.
“Um, I’m not sure who made it,” she said, her face contorting a bit. “But I’d guess that it would be Hack level.”
“Yeah, I’ll pass, the last thing I need today is the ability to smell numbers and taste colors.”
“Probably for the best,” she replied. “It’s evil I can’t have caffeine at the one time in life when I need it more than ever.”
A text made Porsche’s phone vibrate and she checked it quickly. Roadkill sent a not so gentle reminder.Clinic’s been open for two hours. Doc is willing to make room for you around lunch time.This wasn’t an offer to make an appointment. It was a not subtle, one time offer to show up and make it easy on yourself or she’d send men to fetch.
“Anything wrong?” Preacher Girl questioned and Porsche tucked away the phone.
“No, just Roadkill letting me know they got my medication in so I won’t have to hoof it to Berrington for a refill.”
“Okay, what do you need from me?”
“I have something to run by you,” she said since any claimed man would need approval from their Ol’ Lady, much like Hollywood and Onyx both allow Free and Topaz to dance. “And Hack too, is he home?”
“Yeah he’s on the back porch.” Opening the back door she poked her head out. “Baby, Porsche needs us for something.”
Holding the door open, Hack came in, giving Preacher Girl a light kiss on the corner of her mouth. Behind him a stranger wandered in with a mug in hand. Wearing BDU pants and a skintight khaki colored t-shirt she was half ready to ask him to take to the pole. Thick muscular arms stretched the cotton fabric as he made his way to refill his mug. His hair was a sandy brown in the same shorn short style Hack used to sport. But it was his eyes as they scanned the area, a dark blue or maybe they were dark because of the way he was scanning the room like the Terminator.
“Who is this?” Porsche asked as she waited for everyone to settle back into the room and they could sit at the table.
“This is an old brother in arms of mine from the SEALs, Michael Hanover. Mike, this is Porsche.”
“Pleasure to meet you ma’am, you can call me Mike.” Mike held out his hand in greeting and she wasn’t sure when it happened, the moment their palms touched.
Or maybe it was as his hand surrounded hers electricity fizzed and popped along her arm. It had been a long while since a man set heat rushing through her whole body. Especially when she took her medication. To break through the hazy barrier of calming drugs was hard, yet somehow he achieved just that. She was in trouble if this man stayed for very long.
“Looks like you’re dressed for a mission now, soldier,” she said and got a bit of a scowl from the man. “Sorry, do I have to call you SEAL instead?”
“Sailor works, it could have been worse, you could have called me Marine.”
“Hey,” Hack bit, pointing at the man with as much bite as Creature when upside down begging for belly scratches.
“Well, don’t keep us all in suspense,” Preacher Girl said as the three of them sat while Mike positioned himself in the corner and leaned on the counter next to the coffee maker.
“Hack, you know Chief has been trying to find inventive ways to raise funds to create the fire department.”
“The town approved a budget for him to be the Chief and run a volunteer brigade.”
“Exactly, but unless it’s a bucket brigade it’s not really a functioning fire department.”
