Page 3 of Rascal

“They are but you’ve met Rascal. He has a guest bedroom that we’re not using yet. The clubhouse rooms are all full. If you don’t want to stay at Rascal’s house, I could check and see if Locks, who is another MC brother, has room at his house.”

“Margaret can stay in my spare room if it’s all right with her.”

Rascal’s gruff voice had her deciding maybe it was time to take a chance.

“I’d be delighted to stay in your spare room. I appreciate it.”

Winnie smiled. “Perfect. Now, I think I’ll take my brood home and drop David off for a Code Rachel with Grant. It was so nice to meet you. I’m sure we’ll get to talk more later.”

As quickly as they’d invaded, Rascal’s family left.

She had to ask. “What’s a Code Rachel?”

Rascal grinned. His beard, which was liberally sprinkled with gray, framed perfect lips.

“Winnie and her sisters run the bail bonds and security company with their dad. They are also major fans of Friends. When they re-did the codes for the bail bonds a couple years ago, they used Friends references. A Code Rachel is emotional backup needed. No questions asked.”

Margaret giggled. “Your grandkids are precious.”

“I agree, but then I’m a little biased. I vote we finish our lunch and then we could move your stuff to my house and unload. I’m supposed to help at the clubhouse later this afternoon with prep work, and we can always use another set of hands if you’d like.”

Margaret felt more at home in this small town than she’d felt at the college she’d been at for years. She wasn’t sure how what she’d considered her worst day could turn around and become one of the days she’d enjoyed the most. And it was only lunchtime.

“It sounds perfect. My bag was packed for tomorrow and I just grabbed it. Now that I think about it, I might not have enough clothes.”

Rascal nodded and added a couple more onion rings from his plate to hers. She’d finished all hers because she liked them better than the French fries. He’d not only noticed but given her his. Rascal was more interesting by the minute.

“Not a problem. I have plenty of T-shirts you could sleep in. We have club T-shirts that I can get you in our store, along with jeans.”

Margaret tried not to show the shiver that went through her at wearing Rascal’s T-shirt to bed. His scent had been entirely too enticing as she brushed against him. She wasn’t sure she’d keep from jumping this sexy man if she was enveloped in his shirt. It had been at least five years since she’d been naked in front of a man, and she honestly wasn’t sure she’d have the courage to share her body with him.

Extra wrinkles and everything sagging more than it used to didn’t give her confidence to initiate anything. For now, she’d enjoy his company and help with the commemoration. At least for a couple days, she could forget she was now unemployed.

Chapter Two

Margaret stretched underneath the covers, enjoying the quiet morning. She cracked an eye open, squinting to get the clock to be in focus. Eight a.m. was the latest she’d slept in years. Someone always needed something at the college, and she’d usually volunteered or been asked to cover for someone with a family.

Rascal had said they’d have breakfast at the clubhouse and then help with set-up. The first activity didn’t start until noon. She could really use a cup of coffee. She and Rascal had stayed up talking until three in the morning. She could admit to herself she hadn’t wanted it to end.

Their discussion on the range of topics and on their lives was massive and flowed effortlessly. When he’d glanced at the clock and said they should probably get to bed, she’d imagined telling him she wanted to sleep in his room. Instead, she’d kept her mouth shut and gone to her room after he’d had her pick a shirt from his closet.

She’d fought herself trying to not look at his bed and imagine him in it, but she’d failed. He had a king-size bed made from dark wood. A navy-blue comforter covered it. The head of his bed had pillows but wasn’t covered in too many. He had a TV hanging on the wall across from it above a low dresser. He’d offered her his room since the guest bedroom didn’t have an en-suite bathroom, but she turned him down. She wasn’t going to torture herself sleeping underneath the comforter that carried his scent.

She threw back the covers and grabbed Rascal’s bathrobe. He’d known she might be a little uncomfortable in just his shirt, so he’d offered her his robe. He looked so tough, but from all she’d experienced, he had a soft center.

She opened her door and heard Rascal moving around in the kitchen. She ducked into the bathroom off the front room because she was sure her hair was wild. She did her business, then looked in the mirror. She quickly ran her brush through her hair. It might be going gray, but it was still thick and did what she wanted. She brushed her teeth because she wasn’t going to knock Rascal over with her morning breath. Once she was as presentable as she could be, she braved the kitchen.

Rascal was standing in the kitchen with only jeans on and his back to her. The majority of his back was covered with a tattoo of his club’s logo. Both his arms appeared to have tattoos also, but what would she expect from a tattoo artist? For being almost seventy, Rascal, with his shirt off, didn’t look that age. She walked a little closer to get a better look even though what she wanted to do was trace the details of the tattoo and feel his skin.

He turned and smiled at her. “Good morning. Are you ready for some coffee?”

“Yes, please.”

He stepped closer and handed her a cup of coffee that looked remarkably similar to how she’d described her morning addiction last night. She breathed deep, catching of hint of vanilla.

“Go on. Test me and see if I got it right.”

She took a sip, savoring the flavor of her favorite way to wake up.

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