Page 80 of Snow in Texas

He smiled for her, but she saw the faint glimmer of deep fear in his eyes.

With a series of snarls and growls, the bikes left the property, kicking up thick drifts of dust that swept across her face and left grit behind. She tasted the earthiness of it on her lips when she wet them, lingering, straining to see the four Dogs wink out of existence along the horizon.

She stood there until long after they were gone; after the dust had settled, and left the morning blue and clear. A faint breeze stirred her hair and brought the promise of uneasy things. She shivered, wrapped her arms around herself, and walked slowly back to the clubhouse.

~*~

Colin

Lean Dogs’ clubhouses might as well have been franchises. They all had their unique points, particulars of their region, but they all had a common room, bar, kitchen, and plenty of dorms. At the end of a long, cold day of riding, Colin didn’t care about the aesthetics of the Knoxville clubhouse, only that the whiskey was good and somewhere down the hall, a semi-decent mattress awaited him.

The Knoxville president, Ghost, was terrifying in his own special way – Colin guessed that was a presidential requirement. With gravity and an enviable amount of poise, the man outlined the problems the Tennessee Dogs faced. Problems that made the Riley brothers look like child’s play.

Throughout the conversation, Colin felt his brother’s gaze.Half-brother, he reminded himself firmly. Somehow he’d forgotten just how wide Mercy’s shoulders were; how dark his eyes seemed in the dim light, how narrow and sharp his face; he’d forgotten the way his voice rolled like Cajun-flavored smoke through the room, touching everyone’s ears. Mercy was one hell of a presence, the kind that made Colin feel young, dumb, and small.

Glad to have the initial meeting out of the way, Colin sipped his whiskey slowly, eyelids flagging. If he had much more to drink, he might slide off his stool, but it was worth it to ease the aches in his arms, hands, and back. He’d never been on a ride that long before, and he’d thought someone might need to crowbar him off his bike earlier.

“Join you?” An English accent asked at his elbow, but he knew right off it wasn’t Fox.

A glance proved that it was Charlie’s older brother, the Knoxville VP, Walsh. Their faces were different, since they were half-brothers, and Walsh was golden blonde to Fox’s deep brunette, but they had the same eyes. Big and eerie blue and narrowed to a look of constant boredom and superiority. Must be their father’s eyes, then.

“Sure.”

Walsh climbed up on the next stool with a chilled bottle of Smirnoff in his hand. He leaned across the bar to snag a glass and sat back to pour himself a generous drink. “How’s Texas?”

His hand itched for his phone. He’d ducked into the bathroom before to call Jen, but she hadn’t answered. He wanted to hear her voice. Assure himself that she was okay.

“Texas is good,” he said, absently.

“Ah. There’s a girl there, then.”

Colin shot him a sideways look. “Did you talk to your brother or something?”

Walsh snorted, mouth flicking up at the corners in a bare smile. “About as much as you talked to yours. Just an observation. I don’t see what a Cajun would find to like about Texas, unless she had big blue eyes.”

Colin reached for his glass. “Does being psychic run in your family?”

“You’d have to ask my father about that. And he hasn’t been spotted in months.”

Colin’s phone rang and he grabbed for it quick. “’Scuse me, I gotta take this.”

Walsh gave him a knowing look and faced the back wall.

It was Jenny, and her name on his screen was an instant relief. He’d started to have visions of disaster, waiting on her to call back. “Hey, baby,” he answered in a rush, surprised by the hard thump of his pulse. He slid off his stool and headed down the back hallway. “You alright?”

“Mmhm. I was in the shower when you called. You guys made it?” She sounded sleepy. He could imagine her skin scrubbed pink and clean, still warm from the water. Envisioned her shorts and tank top, bare toes wiggling down between the sheets. He felt a sudden, hard tug, a longing to be stretched out beside her, breathing in the smell of her shampoo.

“Colin?”

“Oh. Yeah. Sorry. We made it fine. Just having a drink and then I’m gonna turn in.”

“I miss drinks,” she said wistfully. “Have one for me.”

He warmed from the inside out, thinking about her reason for not being able to drink. The sensation was chased by a quick jolt of fear. A shiver of apprehension. Shit. He wasn’t ready to be a dad, he so wasn’t. “Yeah,” he sighed. “I will.”

Thirty

Jenny

---