Runaway Ride Part 22

Oscar Kincade lifted the welding torch from the steel sculpture he was working on and stood back, raising his welding visor. He nodded his head thoughtfully and then turned his attention to Buddy, a brother in the Pitch Wheels motorcycle club, "So, Sunday we're running to this beach thing? Bonfire? To chase fish?"

"Grunion," Buddy corrected, reiterating the name of the fish. "It's for the kids and babes mainly. Danny will have a blast," he added, referring to Oscar's seven-year-old son, currently at school.

"Grunion," Oscar said with a nod, getting this into his head. "So these grunion, they just swim their way right up on the sand to lay their eggs, and then we catch them with our hands?"

"Not allowed to use a net or anything else," Buddy agreed. "Not sporting. Sunday the grunion are going to run, so we'll go down about five o'clock, have a bonfire, cook some hot dogs until the fish start running up the sand." Buddy walked over beside him, studying the sculpture Oscar was working on, "Want a line?"

"Wouldn't turn one down," Oscar told him, shutting down the welder and setting it aside. "I'll grab us a beer."

Oscar came back into the garage with two beers, finding a line waiting for him and Buddy back by the sculpture, which was almost complete. After the line he took a long drink from the beer and studied the nearly finished work himself. There was something missing, and he was certain he knew what it was, but he was not quite certain of the actual shape yet.

Buddy looked over his shoulder at him, "Ya'know, I skipped out of art appreciation in school, but I really like this." He walked back a few paces, accepting the offered beer. "It's like it's going to move any second. Like it's primed. Alive, even. It's really weird you can do that with a bunch of solid metal."

Oscar looked him over. Buddy always surprised him with the s.h.i.+t he came up with. If you didn't know him, the first impression of Buddy usually stacked him up as kind of dense. But he knew all kinds of s.h.i.+t, like what the f.u.c.k grunion were, and his descriptions of Oscar's artwork were insightful and generally dead on. "Thanks," he told him. "That's just what I was going for."

"One of these days I'm going to have enough cash to buy one of your pieces," Buddy said thoughtfully.

"Maybe I'll put one together for you," Oscar offered.

"No," Buddy shook his head, "This is how you feed your kid and pay the bills. I wouldn't want it that way."

Oscar let that slide. After Danny's mother took off on them, Buddy and his wife Kathy helped out with more than a mere sculpture was worth-much more. "Danny is excited about coming over tomorrow and spending the night with your boys," Oscar told him.

"Rick and James are excited too," Buddy replied. "Kathy is looking forward to the party. She's even making fudge and cookies." Changing the subject, Buddy asked, "You going to hit the tavern tonight?"

"Naw." Oscar shook his head. "I got a parent/teacher thing with Danny, and then I'm a home body. Besides, my babysitter already told me she has a date."

Buddy nodded and restudied the sculpture. "I keep thinking it's about to pounce on something."

Rosie McCormack watched her cla.s.sroom as parents came in the door, escorted by mostly excited students. The pairs, and some rare groups of three, moved through the various project areas and displays. Sometimes both the mother and father would show with their child, but most of the time is was one or the other-he mother being the most common.

Rosie was tired. She chided herself because she was only twenty-five, way too young to be this tired, but that didn't ease her weariness. This was a long day, and she was looking forward to a long bath when she got home.

She talked with parents about their child's work in the cla.s.s. Most of these conversations were easy-the largest problem with children this age was attention span. Seven-year-olds tended to be like sponges; they sucked up everything.

When Rosie saw Danny Kincade come into the cla.s.sroom with a man, who she a.s.sumed was his father-had to be his father really-the resemblance was stunning. Her heart froze in her chest. Danny's father was tall, with black hair and eyes so dark she got lost in them. His rugged strength and posture were arousing to her even from this distance, and his aura, while free and powerful, gave off the need for release from deep torments.

"A broken wing," she whispered, as she watched him walk beside his son to the wall where the art displays were posted.

With the fatigue from the long day dismissed, Rosie walked over to them, drawn in by Danny's father. She felt compelled to be near to him, even comfort him, but this was not the place, she reminded herself. Besides, he could be married.

"Danny is quite the artist," she said as she came up next to them.

"Hi, Miss McCormack!" Danny said, turning his excited face her. "This is my Dad!"

Danny's father turned to her, his dark eyes looking her over, and for an instant she registered surprise in them. "Oscar," he greeted, introducing himself, and extended his hand.

"Rosie McCormack," she replied, loving the warm, rough strength she felt enveloping her when he took her hand into his. "Danny's artwork always surprises me."

"I get it from my dad," Danny told her with the pride of hero wors.h.i.+p in his voice. "He's a real artist."

"Yes?" Rosie asked, turning her attention from Danny back to Oscar.

Oscar shrugged and simply said, "I've been lucky so far," and that seemed to be all he wished to share on the matter. "How has Danny been doing in the other areas? Any problems?"

"I have some notes at my desk. Would you mind joining me for a moment?" she asked. She did have notes but she hardly needed them. Danny was one of her best students, with only a minor struggle in math. But she did want him to herself for a moment, if only for a moment.

"Wait for me here Danny, I'll be right back," Oscar told his son, who nodded with patience in his eyes and zero apprehension.

At her desk she pulled out Danny's file and told Oscar about the mild struggle Danny had with math.

Oscar didn't appear surprised. "I had the same issue as a kid," he explained. His eyes roamed her body, and she fought the urge to push out her b.r.e.a.s.t.s a little, or lift her a.s.s. G.o.d, if only he could find her as attractive as she found him.

"So," he asked after she had exhausted all of the time she could reasonably monopolize him, "Are you free tomorrow?"

"Free?" she asked, her understanding choking her throat.

"As in, can I take you out? Dinner? Lunch?" he pressed.

"I... it's probably not- that is- yes," she finally got out.

He grinned. "You don't sound all that sure."

"I am," she hurriedly replied. "There was just a lot to consider."

"Dinner then?"

"Danny?" she asked.

"He'll be spending the night at some friends," he told her.

"Dinner would be good then." She nodded and quickly wrote her number on a sc.r.a.p of paper, then offered it to him. "Any idea what I should wear?"

He looked her over and she warmed in areas she wasn't use to warming in. "Ever rode on a bike before? Motorcycle?"

"Um, well, my uncle had one. That was a long time ago."

"Jeans, good shoes, a jacket," he offered. "Bikes haven't changed much. Still the same thrill."

Same thrill, she mused, betting that holding on to him was going to be a far different thrill than holding on to her uncle was. "Is six alright?"

"Six works for me," Oscar agreed. "I'll give you a call in the morning for the address. I should get back to Danny now."

"Of course," she said. "That's my cellphone. Any time is fine."

Oscar got Danny over to Buddy's house and, after staying there long enough to talk through a beer, he rode back to his own home, hoping to finish up his current project. However he found his mind on Rosie, Danny's teacher, more than his project, producing long pauses while he studied and shaped pieces of steel to bring the work to life.

More than a year ago his divorce with Danny's mother was final. Since that time he enjoyed a few s.e.xual flings, but nothing he felt was serious. They weren't serious either. Danny was the most important person in his life; Danny and then the brothers of Pitch Wheels. Getting involved again with another woman, bent on changing him, just like Danny's mother was, had no attraction to Oscar at all.

After eight years of being together, Danny's mother declared Oscar unchangeable and moved on. Packed her bags, left Danny, and went back east. She called every couple of months, and sent birthday and Christmas presents, but Danny hasn't seen her since the night before she left. Danny missed her of course-still did-and he remained confused by her leaving. It hurt to see Danny like that. All the more reason not to get involved again with someone who was likely to find him just as unchangeable and leave.

Rosie was a major distraction. For one thing, Oscar couldn't figure out why he asked her out. Sure, she was attractive, and young, but up against the hurdles his past erected, these two qualities alone didn't amount to much. Before she agreed to dinner, she asked about Danny, considering Danny before herself, which was a good sign. He knew Danny liked her; he talked about his teacher all the time. Oscar didn't figure Rosie had become a subst.i.tute mother-figure in Danny's eyes. The differences were glaring. Danny's mother was dark haired and dark eyed like he was, but Rosie was strawberry-blond with light blue eyes, and she was radiant.

After calling Rosie and getting her address, which wound up being in an apartment complex only a few blocks away, he was surprised at his rise in energy. Excitement about seeing her was not an expected response. She was good looking, no doubt about that. Even in her prim teacher's blouse and long skirt, her curves were apparent to his artist's eyes. Again, however, glorious looks aside, his excitement was a surprise.

Rosie spent her late morning searching the shopping mall for a leather jacket, which she really couldn't afford. She had a perfectly fine blue jean jacket which would have sufficed, but it was old and scruffy and didn't offer the impression she wanted to make. She waited a long time-a very long time-for a man to show up in her life and she wasn't going to leave anything to chance. In fact she had been ready to give up and settle for someone mediocre at best.

She didn't know she was waiting for Oscar Kincade, specifically. She didn't know he would already have a child, but Danny was a good boy, and he fit fine into her mental picture of the future. What she knew was what she saw in her dreams, day and night. She knew he would be strong and tall. That he would have dark hair and dark eyes-eyes she could melt into. She knew he would be rough and have a torn, tortured soul that she could sooth. She knew he would be a broken wing she could mend.

Expressed out in the open, it sounded like a teenager's love wish, but Rosie took her dream very seriously. She turned down more date requests than she could remember, waiting for the right man to come through the door. At twenty-five, a virgin, and no sign of her perfect man, she was almost ready to give in and let her resolution dissolve. Then Oscar walked into her cla.s.sroom, and her only thought after he left was: finally.

She found the right leather jacket just before he called to get her address, which she recited eagerly. He said he was looking forward to picking her up at six, and she was able to keep her excitement down enough to simply say she was too. It was hard. It was d.a.m.n hard not to blurt out that she already loved him, and wanted him forever. She knew that wasn't the way to approach a tortured soul like his. It would scare him off. She needed to be patient and nurturing.

After the call, she went home and found the tightest blue jeans she owned and got them on, making sure they fit her a.s.s with the right effect. She chose her red blouse, one she could never wear to the cla.s.sroom. It practically poured her cleavage out of the front. With this she added a nice gold necklace to give him an excuse for looking at her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, with a hoop set of earrings to highlight her cheekbones. She looked herself over, nodding her head in approval, and then she bit her lip, wondering about shoes.

Shoes were a problem. She couldn't afford boots, not after buying the new jacket. After pacing in front of her closet, she decided on the red sneakers. She would have preferred something she could slip off with a feeling of grace, but considering the graceless effort it was going to take to wiggle out of her jeans, what was the added addition of toeing off her shoes? Yes, she fully intended to be naked with him by the end of the evening. Her only apprehension around that part of the evening was what to do next. What was expected from her?

Shaking her head, she pushed that out of her mind. She had been waiting for him; he would understand that she wasn't skilled in that area. It wasn't a religious decision to wait for him. It was simply a lack of interest in being with anyone else. She just couldn't get herself to have s.e.x with someone, just to have s.e.x, knowing that he was not the right man for her and no matter how good it was, she wasn't going to do it again.

She did m.a.s.t.u.r.b.a.t.e a couple of times a month, but that only ingrained in her a firmer resolution that her dream man was the only one she wanted to be with. His image was the only one who filled her mind and excited her body to the point of climax. Last night, with Oscar filling in all of the vague details, her climax was so intense she splashed a wave of water from her bath, and had to sop up the floor with a couple of towels.

She was ready to give herself to him.

At just after six o'clock, Oscar pulled his large FLH Harley, full-dresser, up to Rosie's apartment complex and let down the kick stand. Then he saw Rosie come out of her door and practically skip down the stairs. His heart skipped a beat right along with her at the sight and excitement rose in his chest, excitement rose in his chest to rival her own. These physical reactions startled him-made him wary. So while his body was nearly devouring her curves, the amount of cleavage she put on display in that red blouse, and the open, new leather jacket, his mind was otherwise occupied with looking for the trap.

He knew there was a trap, too. Somewhere. Somewhere very close. The tension in his springs sent serrated vibrations of caution up his spine. He should kick the bike into gear and drive away now. That's what he should do. There was trouble in those beautiful blue eyes.

But he didn't do anything except smile and bring the bike up off the stand again. "Climb on," he invited, handing her a helmet.

She bit her lip in a very attractive way, and then after judging where things were, she got the helmet on and climbed on the back. Once settled she leaned forward, wrapping her arms around him. "I'm ready!" she told him over the chug of the engine.

G.o.d, I hope I am, he thought to himself. He kicked the bike into gear, pulled out of her parking lot, and roared the bike down the street, heading for the freeway.

On the freeway, riding for the beach area of Carlsbad, his hand very naturally found her left thigh, rubbing her with a strong grip. He felt her quiver with excitement at the touch and nearly jerked his hand away.

The whole picture just wasn't right. Something was off. She wasn't a bad girl-far from it. She wore her prim teacher's clothes with ease, and they fit her. The leather jacket she was wearing was new, and he would bet his next commission that she bought it today. The sneakers were a nice touch, and emphasized her girly-ness. She was very feminine, soft, and there was a distinct quality of innocence about her.

With all of that going on, she was thrilled to be on his bike and s.h.i.+vered with excitement when he touched her. Her embrace was without caution sitting behind him. Eager. Yes, that was the word for it-eager. But eager for what? He felt that the answer was more than a night of s.e.x. If it was just s.e.x she wanted, he would be game, but Rosie wanted more.

Rosie found dinner to be wonderful and not what she expected at all. The restaurant was quaint, intimate, and quite warm. Oscar talked easily to her about local events, recent news, and Danny. She asked about the Pitch Wheels motorcycle club since he wore that large patch sewn into the back of his leather jacket. He described them as brothers. "After Danny's mother left, they stepped up and helped a lot. It was hard suddenly being a single dad. She didn't give much warning. None at all, in fact," he told her. "Not sure I would have made it without Buddy, his wife Kathy, and the other guys helping out."

Danny's mother, Rosie mused. He didn't use her name, never even mentioned it all night. She was just Danny's mother to him. But the torment of his soul wasn't attached to her leaving. No, but there was some serious anger attached to her; there was a sense of betrayal. She didn't cheat on him; she did something worse, far worse. Rosie was certain of that. She couldn't, however, picture what she did to him before she abandoned them.

Rosie was able to calm down during dinner. He was here, with her, finally. And he was everything she dreamed he would be: intelligent, funny, and with a carefree feeling tainted by a deep sadness. Maybe not a sadness, per se, but a darkness. One he'd carried with him all of his life. Like he saw too much and felt too deeply about things. It delighted her to know that she would change that in him, heal him.

He seemed to be relaxing a little himself and enjoying himself with her. He felt tense when they first arrived and he first sat down with her at the table. He seemed confused, perhaps even a little lost. His att.i.tude worried her for a while, and she thought she might have done something wrong.

She couldn't imagine what she might have done and this distressed her. She never considered that her inexperience might be a problem at this stage. She just a.s.sumed they would meet and wouldn't part afterward. That he would be attracted to the healing she offered, as much as she was attracted to the wound in him. Details like dinners and conversations and several other unnamed things weren't part of the dream. They existed, obviously, but in vague ways. For the first time the idea of dirty socks on the floor and picking up Danny's toys entered her speculation of the life ahead of her.

While listening to him talk about the club, specifically a trip -or rather a run-they took down into Mexico, she pondered these details. When he brought up the grunion run he was going to with Danny the next day, the subject brought her back to the table, and she smiled. "My uncle use to take me to those when I was a girl."

"Did you enjoy it?"

"Immensely," she replied. "Danny is going to have such a great time." She hoped he would invite her to the event, but he didn't. He just nodded and grinned a little. It was alright. Soon she would be invited to everything. She was certain about that, just as she knew the grunion would run again.

She was much more relaxed on the way back to her place than the trip out. For one thing, he kissed her before they got on the bike. He took her in his arms and brought his lips to hers. She had kissed a couple of boys in high school, so she understood the mechanics, but she wasn't ready for the full effect coming from him. When his tongue parted her lips, she opened up for him and pressed against his body, melting into his embrace. If he let her go, she would have fallen to the pavement without a net.

His hand came from around her back, and took her breast, cupping it and ma.s.saging it at first. Then he found her hardened nipple and began to tease and pull. None of her fantasies had this little detail in them either, and her hips twisted against him with a yearning she didn't antic.i.p.ate.

She tried to speak, when they parted and it took her two attempts to manage actual words: "Would you like to come up to my place when we get back? I have a few beers. We could talk some more?"

He searched her eyes, looking for something, but then said, "That sounds nice. I would like that."

Now they were almost back to her place. His hand was on her thigh again, rubbing up and down her leg in an easy, familiar, possessive way she found relaxing.

This is so right. So perfect.

Oscar looked around the decor of the living room while Rosie went off into the kitchen to get the offered beers. This is so wrong, he thought to himself once again.

There were several pictures and figurines of angles around the room. The cute little angles, the more grown but no less cute angles, and a fallen one being ministered to by a glowing woman. The colors were warm, inviting, and entrapping. The couch was so overstuffed and comfortable-looking he balked at sitting down in it for fear of not being able to extract himself again.

At least she was calmer, he mused. But then, predators are always calm after they have their prey.

She came back into the living room with two bottles and two gla.s.ses in her hand. She offered a bottle and gla.s.s to him. Oscar took the bottle, setting the gla.s.s aside. She eyed the gla.s.s but said nothing and sat down on the sofa. Hesitating again, he reluctantly removed his leather jacket and sat next to her. She was pouring some of her beer into her gla.s.s. He took a long drink from his bottle.

She talked easily to him about some parts of her life. Her father worked at the s.h.i.+pyard. Her mother was a home body. She had a sister and a brother, both older, both married, and both out of town. Her uncle was in prison for running drugs out of Mexico. She said this with a nonchalance that attracted his attention.

"He's been inside for several years," she explained. "The shock value for me has worn off."

"When is he getting out?"

"Three more years," she said. "I go up and visit him once a month, or try to at least. It's quite a drive. I write to him every week though, and put some money on his books when I have a little extra. Teaching doesn't pay very much."

When he leaned over to kiss her again, she came to him willingly and they necked on the couch for a long time. She allowed him her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, and soon he had her blouse unb.u.t.toned and their firmness in his hands, teasing her pale pink, very hard nipples at will. When he moved to take off her blouse, so he could remove her bra she leaned back and did that incredibly attractive bite on her lips. "Oscar," she said, very breathlessly, "I've never done this before, but I want to."

"Never?"