Savior Ch. 11

"Where're we going for dinner?" Hanna asked as we put our helmets beside my bike. "I'm treating tonight."

"You don't have to do that."

"I want to."

"I thought you said you don't have any money," I said as I swung a leg over the bike, making sure my tone was teasing.

"I don't have much," she admitted as she settled behind me. "A few hundred dollars, but I think the least I can do is treat my hero to a decent meal. Just not too expensive, okay?"

"Tell you what, let me pay tonight, but if you insist on paying, I'll put it on your tab with your clothes. How's that?"

She was quiet a moment. "Okay," she said softly, "but I'm paying you back every penny, I swear, as soon as I get a job. For the clothes, too."

"If it makes you feel better."

"It does. I already owe you, and the Riders, so much. More than I can ever repay, but I don't want to feel like I'm taking advantage."

"You're not. You've helped us in a big way. If it weren't for you, we'd have been blindsided by what was coming. Now, because of you, we have a fighting chance."

I thumbed the bike to life, looking in the direction of the Pacific. There were some low, dark clouds in the distance. I watched them a moment as the bike idled. "Let's stop by the motel and get your car. I don't like the look of those clouds, and I don't a repeat of this afternoon."

"Me either."

I banged the bike into gear, and we pulled away.

Doonz and The Motorhead Inn were on opposite sides of town, and by the time we arrived at the motel, it was clear it was only a matter of time before it started raining again.

"Would you mind if I ran inside and try to do something with my hair? I forgot my brush and my hair is..." She made a scratching noise as she flung her fingers out from her head.

"No, not at all." I didn't say I thought her current messy is sexy hairstyle was damned sexy indeed.

I followed her into her room. As she splashed at the sink, wetting her hair with her fingers as she adjusted her locks, I looked through her open suitcase. I didn't touch anything, but I could tell it was full of well-worn jeans and shirts. The nicest clothes I saw were what she was wearing, the ones I'd bought her.

When she stopped fussing with her hair, she applied her makeup, a bit of blush, eye shadow, and lip gloss, and she was done. She turned to me. "Am I presentable?"

Dressed in her jeans, white men's style shirt, and a dusting of makeup to enhance her beauty but not hide it, she was far more than presentable, even with the scrape on her face.

"You look great. I still need to go home and change, though. You can follow me, and then we can leave from there. I know a seafood place that has great salmon steaks... and it's not too expensive," I added with a teasing smile.

"Okay, sounds like a plan. Do you live near here?"

"Not far," I said, intentionally not telling her I lived in the same place I worked, wanting to see her reaction when she found out. It was the unusual woman who wasn't immediately put off by my trailer and where it was located.

I opened the door and stopped. It wasn't pouring like it had earlier, but it was raining. "Good thing we're taking my car, huh?" she said as she peeked around me. "Why don't you leave your bike here? I'll take you home, you can change, we'll have dinner, and by the time we get back, maybe it'll have stopped."

I sighed. "Okay. Sounds good." She fished into her purse, pulled out her keys, and offered them to me. "It's okay. You can drive."

"You're sure?"

"Unless you want me to drive."

She smiled as she shook her head and pulled the keys back. "No. I thought that was a guy thing."

I snorted. "Not this guy."

Her smile spread as she dashed to her car and threw herself under the wheel. I dropped into the car beside her.

"Oy, this seems familiar," she said as she wiped her hands on her pants before putting the key in the ignition and giving it a twist.

I watched as she cranked the car over while furiously pumping the accelerator. She gave the car a rest, still pumping the pedal, then tried again. The car coughed, stumbled, and then died.

"It's hard to start sometimes when it's raining or if it sits too long," she murmured as she twisted the key again, her foot rapping out a steady beat on the throttle

The little car shuddered, coughed, then spluttered to life, roaring loudly in a haze of smoke before stumbling, shuddering, and then dying again as she stomped furiously on the throttle, trying desperately to keep it running.

"Come on, baby," she cooed to the car as she turned the key again. The Beetle spun over, tried to start, but never quite got there, coughing, sputtering, and wheezing, but never really running. She tried again and again, muttering encouragement to the car, until the battery began to weaken. Listening to the car turning over, I could tell it was well past its prime and had almost no compression.

I reached over and covered her hand with mine, stopping her from turning the key again. "Save the battery. I'll go get the yard truck while you wait here, okay?"

"I guess we can go on your—"

"No, just wait here. I'll come back with the truck, and then we can go to dinner."

"I'm sorry," she said quietly, staring at the dash in defeat. "It'll probably start after it stops raining."

I took her chin and gently turned her face to mine. "Hey, it's okay. I'll be less than hour. It's no problem."

She heaved a sigh. "Okay."

I followed her into the room, picked up my helmet, and settled it on my head. "Less than an hour," I repeated as I fastened the helmet before stepping into the rain, swung a leg over, and stood the Harley upright. She was standing in the door, out of the rain, watching me as I pressed the starter. She was still watching as I roared away.

I backed my bike into my shed before I walked to my trailer. I was already wet, so I didn't see any reason to hurry. Inside, I stripped out of my riding armor and clothes, leaving them in a pile outside the bathroom door. I liked my trailer except for the fact the bathroom was so small I had to step into the hall to change my mind. I could easily stand in the tiny space between the toilet, shower, and sink, stretch my arms out, and put my hands on all four walls without moving my feet.

I squeezed into the shower that was comfortably sized for a pixie and quickly scrubbed myself clean, having to crouch so the water would hit me on the head and in my face. Finished, I quickly dried, and then squeezed in beside the bed as I selected dark blue pants, lighter blue shirt, and since I was driving instead of riding, I left my boots in the closet and pulled out a pair of loafers.

Dressed, I combed, brushed, and then hurried through the rain to Patrick's. Standing on his porch I rapped on his door. After a moment the door opened.

"May I help you?" Patrick asked, blocking my way into his house.

"Oh, stop it," I growled as I entered. "I came to see if I can take the truck."

"Sure. Wait... dress pants, shoes, and asking for the truck? Randall Tauper, are you going on a... date?" he gasped, his eyes comically wide.

"Maybe," I growled, fighting my smile.

"With a girl?" he asked, his eyes opening even wider.

"Are you going to give me the keys to the damn truck or do I have to hotwire it?" I snarled, but I couldn't hide my smile.

"Only if you give me all the juicy details later." He grinned. "You know where they are."

"Has anyone told you that you're a dirty old man?" I grumbled as I stepped around him and made my way to the office.

"Not since last week," came the ritualistic reply.

"You sure you don't need it?" I asked, my tone serious.

"No. Take it. I was planning on working on the Jag engine."

"How's it coming?"

"Fine. I'm going to start turning the valves tonight."

"Getting close."

He snickered. "Yeah, four or five more months, and she'll be ready to go." He began fanning his hand toward the door, shooing me out. "Go, go. I've got things to do, and you don't keep your lady friend waiting."

"Don't wait up," I said as I stepped off the porch and into the rain.

I glanced at the clock on the Ford's dash as I pulled into the parking lot of the Motorhead Inn. Back in less than an hour, just like I'd said. Typical for my luck, it had almost stopped raining on the drive to the motel, but I didn't think the rain was finished yet. I stepped out of the truck and rapped on Hanna's door. It opened almost immediately, and I couldn't help but smile at Hanna's slightly startled expression.

"You ready?" I asked.

"Uh, yeah, ready," she said as she joined me outside the room. "You look nice."

"Thanks. So do you."

I opened the door to the truck, she crawled inside, and I shut it behind her. "Wow. This is nice," she breathed as I settled under the steering wheel, her hands gliding lightly over the leather seats.

"Not bad," I agreed.

"This belongs to the scrapyard? I saw the logo on the door."

"Technically, yes, but this is Patrick's truck." I grinned at her. "What, did you expect some beat up piece of junk?" I snickered as she blushed. Clearly that was exactly what she'd been thinking. "So, what are you in the mood for?"

"You mentioned salmon."

"Salmon it is," I said as pushed the button and the truck burbled to life.

We drove north along Sandpiper, one of the two roads that ran between the 101 and the deep blue of the Pacific, before I pulled into The Chart House, the restaurant perched right at the end of Sandpiper. Unlike restaurants in Bayport, The Chart House was well outside of town and frequented mostly by locals wanting to enjoy a meal without having to fight the crowds.

"Rand, we haven't seen you in here in a while," Stacey said as we entered.

"Been busy. You know how it is."

She smiled. "Two tonight?"

"Yes."

"Right this way."

We followed Stacey to a small, out of the way table by the window overlooking the beach, and the ocean beyond. I held out Hanna's chair and she smiled as she sat.

"Do you know everyone in town?" she asked as I settled into my own chair.

"No, why?"

"You seem to."

I grinned. "Bayport has around twenty-five thousand people. There must be five, maybe six hundred people I don't know." She twittered out a brief laugh. It was the first time I'd heard her laugh, and I liked the sound. "Stacey is Jacob's wife."

"And Jacob is...?"

"A friend and brother."

"Ah," she grunted as our waiter approached.

"What can I get you to drink?" our waiter asked as he glided to a stop beside the table.

"Water for me." Hanna looked at me strangely. "I've already had the beer, and I'm driving."

"You said the salmon is good?" I nodded. "What wine would you suggest with the salmon?" Hanna asked, glancing between the waiter and me. I shrugged, so she focused her attention on the waiter.

"Are you talking about the seared salmon steaks?"

Hanna looked at me and I nodded. "Yes."

"Then I'd definitely recommend the Penner-Ash, Pinot Noir. It's produced here in Oregon, in the Willamette Valley."

Hanna glanced at me and I smiled as I held my hands up. "You said you're paying."

Hanna broke into a broad smile. "I'll have a glass of that, please."

"I'll be right back with your drinks."

"You said the salmon steaks are good?" Hanna asked as she scanned the menu.

"Best in town. I suggest the asparagus with lemon butter."

"Asparagus? Blecch."

I snickered. "What is it with you and green vegetables? Just try them."

She giggled. "You sound like me talking to Garrett. Okay, fine. But if I don't like them, I'm not eating them," she said as she leaned back and crossed her arms across her chest in defiance, but her grin softened the words.

"Fine. More for me," I said as our waiter returned with our drinks.

"Do you need a minute or are you ready to order?"

"We'll both have the pan-grilled salmon steaks with the steamed asparagus." The waiter nodded and moved off.

She blew her cheeks out. "I'm going to get fat if we don't find Garrett soon." I raised an eyebrow in questioning. "Garrett and I rarely eat out, and when we do, it's someplace kid friendly, like McDonalds. This is a real treat, eating someplace that doesn't serve French fries," she explained.

"Been tough?"

"Sometimes." She sighed. "I don't like coming off as a shrew, and I didn't mind Carl being in the Orcas, at least not at first, but, you know, after a while, especially after you have a kid, you have to grow up. Carl never did. He still wanted to go out drinking and carousing with his buddies. Having a job and coming home to be with your wife and son wasn't fun for him, so he couldn't be bothered. He kept saying it was going to get better, but it never did. It's about to, though. Once my divorce is over, Garrett and I are free, and we can start over again."

I picked up my water glass. "To new beginnings."

She smiled and touched her glass to mine. "To new beginnings," she repeated and then took a sip.

"Are you going to stay in Prineville?"

"I don't know. I want to stay away from Eugene for a while, that much I know. Portland, Salem and Medford for the same reason."

"The Orcas?"

"Yeah. I want to stay as far away from them as I can. No point in looking for trouble."

"What did you ever see in Carl, and why did you stay?" I asked, unable to get my mind around why she was with him in the first place, and why she stayed as long as she did.

She shrugged. "He's handsome, and smooth, and talked a good game, plus I was young, and stupid, and attracted to bad boys in a big way. I guess it was because Mom and Dad always seemed so boring. Now, boring looks pretty good. I stayed because I wanted to try to make it work. As I said, he kept telling me it was going to get better, and I had Garrett to think about. I didn't want him to grow up without a father."

I knew that feeling, but sometimes having no father was better than having a bad one. "I can understand that, I guess. What's Garrett like?"

Her face lit up with the change in the subject. "He's such a good kid," she gushed. "He's so loving, and funny. He loves to take things apart. I bought him this little tool kit, you know with a couple of little screwdrivers, a pair of small pliers, and one of those adjustable wrench things in it. Anyway, one day I came from work and he was taking the fan I had in the kitchen apart." She paused as she remembered. "Carl was on the phone and completely oblivious to what he was doing. Thank God it wasn't plugged in. And Legos," she said rolling her eyes. "He'll spend hours building things, taking them apart, and then building something else."

"He sounds like a good kid."

"The best," she confirmed as her smile slowly faded. "He was the only good thing to come out of that miserable, fucked up marriage."

The arrival of the food pulled us away from the darkening mood and our conversation became lighter and more playful. "What do you think of the asparagus?" I asked, pointing my fork at her plate as she took her first tentative bite.

"Well, it not blecchy," she said as she chewed a bit more. "It's pretty good, actually."

"See?"

She began to giggle and couldn't seem to stop.

"What?" I snickered as her giggles began to infect me.

"I don't know! It's just the way you said that reminded me so much of me when I'm trying to get Garrett to try something new. Are you sure you don't have kids?"

Our giggles began to spiral out of control as they fed on each other. "Would you please stop!" I gasped, wiping at my eyes.

"I can't!" she laughed into her napkin, starting me laughing all over again.

It was raining again by the time we finished eating. I stood at the door, watching it rain for a moment. "I love Oregon weather."

"It doesn't rain all the time like this in Prineville."

"Well, it does here during the rainy season."

"Is that now?"

"We're just coming out of it. Wait here and I'll go get the truck."

"You don't have to do that."

"Just wait. There's no point in both of us getting wet."

I hurried to the truck while trying to not look like I was hurrying. I backed the truck out, and then pulled up at the door. Almost before the wheels stopped turning, she was running for the truck and threw herself inside. She certainly wasn't as wet as she was earlier today, nor did she look as cold, but I clicked on her seat heater and set the truck's heater to well done.

We were halfway back to her motel when she reached over and turned the heat down. "The heat in this thing works a lot better than it does in my car."

Everything works better than your car. "Bugs aren't exactly known for their outstanding heat in the best of times."

"Yeah. I have to keep a towel in the car to wipe the windshield when it rains so I can see."

"Maybe someday you can afford something better."

"Yeah, maybe," she said softly.

We drove back to her motel, and I stopped beside her car. It was still raining, and she didn't seem eager to open her door.

"Thank you. I had a lovely time," she said softly. "I'd forgotten what having an adult conversation feels like."

"I enjoyed it, too." I held her gaze then smiled as I reach across the truck and pulled her gently to me. She didn't resist or try to turn away. I paused with my lips almost touching hers, giving her a chance to change her mind, but she didn't pull back, so I closed the distance and covered her lips with mine.

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly as I drew back. "That was nice," she whispered as she opened her eyes and smiled. After a moment, she leaned slightly closer, and I bought my mouth to hers again.

When I pulled back the second time she straightened. The second kiss had been more heated than the first, and she'd seemed more eager. I started to pull her lips to mine again, but this time she held back, and I didn't try to force her.

"Thank you for a wonderful evening," she said as she opened the door, "but I have to go."

I watched as she stepped into the rain and hurried to her room, standing close to the door, under the eave to stay out of the rain, as she unlocked it. She opened the door, stepped into the room, but then turned back. For a moment I thought she was going to invite me in, an invitation I would have welcomed, but then she looked down, looked back up and smiled at me, before she stepped back and slowly closed the door.

I sat there, the truck idling, watching her door. I thought we were going someplace when she came back for the second kiss, but then she suddenly pulled away. I was pretty sure it wasn't anything I'd done. Perhaps it was the fact she was still, technically, married.

I snorted to myself as I put the truck in gear and backed out of the parking spot. I'd never sleep with another man's woman, but if Hanna had moved out and started her divorce proceedings, that was close enough for me. As I drove, I decided her pulling away because she was married didn't feel right either. She wanted me, just as I wanted her. She might have felt guilty in the morning, but in that moment, I knew she wasn't thinking about being married. It was something else holding her back, almost as if my desire frightened her somehow. If being desired by a man was the reason she pulled back, then Carl had really fucked her up good.

Another good reason to kick the shit out of that asshole.