Page 1 of Spring Surprise
Chapter 1
Neely
They say, “When the going gets tough, the tough gets going.” I say, “Bullshit.” Whoevertheyare has never dealt with a newborn who won’t stop wailing.
Believe me, when I’m assembling a new air-tight identity or up on stage shaking my money maker, I can ignore bombs going off and assholes all around me, but the retched wails of my newborn son have me ready to bawl my eyes out too.
I’d been nervous when I was finally able to bring Toby home from the hospital earlier in the week, and by eight o’clock that same day, I was frantic and had him back in the emergency room, only to discover there was nothing I could do to fix a colicky baby.
Now, days later, I’m frazzled, to put it mildly, and ready to beg someone, anyone, to come and help me. Rocking, swaddling, and pacing with little TJ in my arms isn’t doing the trick. As I turn to make another pass around the dimly lit living room, the cloth I use to burp him slips off my shoulder. In what feels like slow motion, I hitch sideways to catch it before it hits the floor but instead wind up losing my balance. Clumsy with exhaustion, I kind of stumble-sink into the rocker recliner.
And that’s what saves our lives.
The bay window shatters inward, spraying glass across the room. Oddly enough, it’s the silence of TJ’s wails stopping as abruptly as they’d started that shocks me into action. Glass crunches beneath me as I panic and slide from the chair onto the floor. Spots dance in front of my eyes as I frantically check Toby for an injury. His little brow is scrunched in that wizened little ol’ raisin man persona preemies have, but he’s alert and, thank God, unharmed.
The breath I haven’t realized I’m holding whooshes out on a sob. Scrabbling for my phone on the coffee table, my heart races. I gulp in a jagged breath and hit speed dial.
“911, what’s your emergency?”
“This is N-Neely James at three-thirteen Cordova Lane. Someone just shot at me through my bay window.”
Wouldn’tyouknow,mynosy neighbor, Helen, arrives before the detective assigned to me after the last incident does. Of course, she lives right next door and, like me, never seems to sleep. It turns out to be a blessing in disguise. Before the cops and paramedics leave, Helen’s grandson, David, who’s in construction, is at my house, covering my front window with plywood and ordering a new window to be installed.
“Are you sure, dear? I have plenty of room.”
“Yes, I’m sure, Helen. My ride should be here any minute. In fact, I bet that’s them.” The first thing I did after I called the police was call my club.
The rumbling roar of several motorcycles coming down my street is unmistakable. The cavalry has arrived in the form of my sisters from the Witch’s Ridge MC. Helen sputters when she sees Diana, better known as Diamond Girl, swing off her Harley and inadvertently flash everyone the burlesque-style nipple pasties underneath her leather jacket. I roll my eyes as I hand Helen a spare set of house keys so she can check on things and let David in when the window glass arrives. Honestly, I’m surprised Diamond Girl’s boobs aren’t completely on show. The woman has a serious aversion to clothes.
“Gracious, I h-hope you know what you’re doing!” Helen clutches at the lapels of her robe like it’s a string of pearls. A small, relieved smile quirks the corner of my mouth.
Me too, Helen, me too. Silver, better known as Sweet Baby and the President of Witch’s Ridge MC, is making a statement by bringing the whole club to escort TJ and me out of Atlanta. While the big girls shake down every contact and lead, I’m going to disappear.
It’s time for my son to meet his daddy.
Chapter 2
Tobias
Glancing through the open bay door, I throw up a hand in response to Larry, Wintervale’s only taxi driver, tooting the horn. He doesn’t stop the car until he pulls the passenger side up near the office door.
I shake my head. Larry’s what I would call quirky—not weird or creepy, just different. I’ve known him since I was a kid, and I’ve gotten to know him better since I began doing the maintenance on his taxi over the last three years here at Curtis’s garage. He’s a good man.
Larry hops out from behind the wheel of his taxi and races around the car to get the door for his passenger. Larry’s giving royal treatment? I lean out for a better view, catching a glimpse of a smallish woman with a long sun-streaked ponytail and oversized sweatshirt, lugging something that has her leaning to the side into the office.
Huh. She could be part of the Wheel’s Network TV crew coming in to film the pilot episode scheduled to arrive in a few days, but I thought Ezra said they were bringing RVs and their own vehicles. I shrug. Guess I should go check it out and see if they need my help.
That’s not it at all. I chuckle; I’m nosy as hell.
With the pungent aroma of orange hand soap clinging to my fingers, I amble through the inner door into the office.
“Ah, perfect. Tobes, can you grab the keys to the Wrangler for me?” Jorie, who’s sitting behind the counter, asks softly. She doesn’t even turn to see who’s coming up behind her. Of course, I’m the only one in the shop with her right now, so it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure it out. Just a mechanic.
“Wrangler, got it.”
My gaze skates over our guest standing at the other end of the counter. She’s staring back intently like she knows me. I’m charmed to see a nerdy pair of black plastic-framed glasses perched on her pert nose. Huh, I’ve never had a naughty librarian fantasy.
I shudder as an image of old Ms. Hunter, the town’s fire-breathing librarian, surrounded by her horde of books, pops into my head. She’s the last woman any sane man would fantasize about, but this little hottie? Mm-hm, I might have to do some research to see if the sexy librarian is a thing. I toss her a wink as I turn to grab the keys Jorie requested. I chuckle when the girl’s cheeks pinken.
