Page 2 of Hard Knox

“It’s taught me plenty about what matters. But meeting someone like you? Makes me think maybe I missed out on some of the classroom type of learning,” I said, trying to hide the fact I was thinking of her, in those glasses and nothin’ else. I’d steal the paddle away from her.

She laughed again, this time a bit softer, a bit deeper. “Maybe I can catch you up on some of the things you missed,” she offered, her tone teasing but sincere. She had no clue that I was pondering all that junk in her trunk.

“I’d like that,” I said, imagining bending her over her desk. “So, how about we skip the coffee here and go for a ride instead? I know a great place with the best view of the mountains.”

Her eyes lit up at the suggestion, any hesitation swept away by the promise of an adventure.

“My Harley’s parked just down the street, and it’s calling our names,” I tried to seal the deal. I couldn’t shake the feeling that this was the start of something… Something good. It was high time I let myself have something good.

We were just a hop away from the coffee joint when a sudden shout cut through the bustle of the street. “Mommy!” A little voice, sharp as a bell, sliced through the noise. I turned to see a little tyke, couldn’t be more than five, tearin’ toward us. Her hair was the same shade as Eliza’s and bounced in a ponytail that matched her sprightly spirit.

Eliza’s face lit up with love and a touch of embarrassment. “Emma!” she exclaimed as the little bullet launched into her arms. “What are you doin’ here? You were supposed to be with Grandma.”

The kiddo, Emma, looked up with eyes as bright as her mom’s. “Grandma took me to the park.” Her gaze then shifted to me, sizing me up with that innocent curiosity kids have. “Who’s he?”

“This is Knox,” Eliza introduced, her voice warm but edged with the caution of a mother hen. “He helped organize the charity wash today for your mom’s school.”

“Hi, Knox,” Emma said, throwin’ me a wave. She seemed to be tryin’ to piece together how a big, tattooed biker fit into her mom’s day. “Looks like the big bad wolf, mommy,” she said out the side of her little mouth with a giggle.

Eliza’s eyes grew as wide as saucers.

“Hey there, Emma. Nice meetin’ you.” I crouched down to get on her level. “You have fun at the park?”

“Yeah! Grandma, let me feed the ducks!” Emma’s excitement bubbled over before she turned back to Eliza. “Can we get ice cream now?”

Eliza shot me an apologetic look. “I’m sorry, Knox. I’ve gotta find Grandma. Looks like coffee’s gonna have to wait. Duty calls.” Her smile told stories of a life jugglin’ the unexpected as a single mom.

“No worries.” I stood, brushing off my jeans. “How ‘bout a raincheck on that coffee? Next time, hopefully with less rain?” I motioned to her dress that was still wet.

“That’s not necessary,” Eliza said, shaking her head.

“But it is,” I declared, pointing to my colors. “It’s our code. Let me make up for any trouble I caused you.”

“Alright,” Eliza agreed, her smile genuine.

“Can he come for ice cream, Mommy?” Emma piped up, eyes darting between us, full of hope.

Eliza chuckled, clearly taken aback by her daughter’s boldness. “Maybe another time, sweetie. Knox has to help clean up after the charity wash.”

“Bye, Knox!” Emma waved with the enthusiasm only a kid could muster as Eliza took her hand, steppin’ into whatever adventure was next.

“Bye, Emma, bye Eliza,” I called after them, watchin’ as they blended back into the crowd.

A warmth kindled in my chest, stoked by admiration for that fiery single mom with curves that could make a preacher cuss, and a flicker of hope that maybe, just maybe, I’d get another shot to learn more about her. More about them curves, sure, but about her too. She was a teacher, a single mom, and from what I could already see, a woman who might just handle the likes of me—a biker with a heart maybe too big, always tryin’ to show that bein’ an outlaw didn’t mean you couldn’t do some good in this twisted world.

Chapter 2

Knox

The room was thick with smoke and the sharp scent of grease and booze as the boys of the Royal Bastards MC here in Knoxville, Tennessee, my crew, gathered around the battered oak table that served as our altar in these weekly sermons we called church. As usual, I was parked at the head of the table, my chair slightly tilted back, a lit joint dangling from my fingers. But my mind? Hell, it was miles away, tangled up in thoughts of that curvy teacher.

Her laugh, that damn infectious laugh that seemed to echo around my skull, and the way her eyes lit up behind those glasses when she laughed… Damn, it was like a track on repeat in my head. Women around the clubhouse were rarely that happy, never laughing. Their painted lips were too busy sucking off a biker or bitching someone out. Imagining Eliza’s lips opening for me made my pants get too tight.

“Knox! You with us or what?” Rocky, my second in command’s gruff voice cut through my daydream like a sawed-off shotgun blast. He was staring at me from across the table, his blue eyes narrowed under that mess of unruly light hair and bushy eyebrows. Fella got his name because he flew tourists in a helicopter over the Smokies for a livin’. Not the only thing he flew, being a pilot. Biker also flew off the handle quite a bit.

“Shit, man, where’s your head at today?” TNT chimed in, his sleeved arms crossed over his vast chest, a sneer on lips. My Sergeant at Arms had another nickname at one time. Dynomite, givin’ to him by his mama. She said he looked like Jimmy Walker from that old show, “Good Times” since he was so tall and skinny. I’d never seen it, so didn’t know if the resemblance was true. However, Dynomite despised the name, so he bulked up and brother became TNT.

I snapped back, straightening up in my chair, flicking ash. “Just thinking about club business, Dynomite. What’s the next item, boys?” I tried to sound all in, but my voice probably carried that edge of distraction.

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