Another day closer to summer... but first we have to get through the rainy spring days and the yellow-green haze of oak pollen. Bleech! This month's addition is about one of those cold, rainy nights of an unexpected storm.
DRAKE...
... several months have now passed since Drake and Grant first met.
Prompt: April Showers — A sudden downpour traps two strangers under the same café awning.After parting ways with Grant, life went back to its normal, boring self. I worked a lot; I rode a lot; I drank a little. Some of my brothers were hard-core drinkers, but I’d never been. Even when I got out, I couldn’t get lost in the bottom of a bottle. Alcohol let the depression in along with the anger, and since I liked my job, getting arrested for doing dumb shit while intoxicated wasn’t high on my list.
Grant had my number, and I had his, but I’d left the ball in his court. Maybe that was a mistake on my part, but work was keeping me on my toes. Any time I wasn’t working, the club took its share. Winter’s chill and a couple of hard snowfalls meant club business was slow, which I preferred, mostly for my brothers’ safety. I’d never say anything to Riggs or Ryan—our Prez and VP respectfully—but their “side business” fucking scared me. Running guns was not for the faint of heart, and I for damn sure liked mine right where it was.
Occasionally, I rode through Indio and stopped at The Cozy Cup for coffee and my usual bear claw and think about Grant, but I never saw him again until one mid-April afternoon. The day started with sunny skies, but by the time I was heading home from work, angry dark-gray clouds had blown in on a stiff breeze, and it was fixing to snow or rain something fierce. I was betting on rain with the warmer temperatures, but I’d already learned that thinking I could predict Colorado weather was a losing endeavor.
True to form, the skies opened in a torrential downpour when I was still about ten minutes out from home. I could ride in the rain, but storms like this affected everyone’s vision, and I didn’t want to be a statistic because I’d foolishly thought I knew best. I pulled to the side of the road and, spotting a large awning spanning a cafe that had sidewalk dining in the summer but was currently bare of its usual tables and chairs.
I walked my bike beneath its cover, popped my visor, and was brushing the rain off my jacket when I heard my name.
“Drake?”
Grant had a steel grip on his umbrella, a large black one that looked like it wanted to take him for a ride, as he hustled across the street and joined me under the striped awning. His smile was broad and bright, and my own came out to play.
“Fancy meeting you here?” I teased as I removed my helmet and propped it on the seat of my bike. I opened my saddlebag, pulled out a towel, and began wiping my helmet, seat, and motorcycle dry.
Grant carefully closed his umbrella, locked it down with the velcro strap, and peered past me into the restaurant window before meeting my gaze. “Indeed. I was supposed to meet a prospective customer for an early dinner, but he canceled at the last minute.” He huffed as he glanced at the door, and I saw his jaw working, his shoulders slumping, his mouth dip into a frown. Saw the way he swallowed, then straightened his shoulders as if the failure of meeting this person didn’t matter, though I suspected it might have. I also saw the way the light from the neon sign behind me reflected in his eyes. “Would you… Would you like to join me instead?”
Feeling like Grant needed the win, and I was all about helping out a friend, especially if there was food attached, I readily agreed. “I’m in. You think my bike is okay here?”
He shrugged. “Let’s ask.” He waited for me to stow my towel and pocket my key. I gestured for him to go first and followed, but like the first time we met, I jumped ahead to open the door for him.
“Such a gentleman,” he murmured as he passed, so close his arm brushed my chest, and I could smell the faint scent of his cologne.
Grant smelled good. Like I wanted to stick my face in his neck and breathe him in good. My cock agreed, but I told it to behave. Whether my little head would listen was another story.
The hostess seated us by the window where we could look out and see my baby. My very expensive baby.
“Seems I have some competition.”
“Yup,” I chuckled, opening my menu, but not reading it yet. I peeked at him over the top edge. “You know anything about motorcycles?”
“Indian Chief Anniversary edition with seating for two. All-weather vinyl saddlebags, good for a couple of days' worth of clothes, a small laptop, or a six-pack of your favorite beverage, maybe a blanket to sit on. I like the matching red helmet and that you wear it. Some of your brothers ride without… I’m not a fan of that.” Grant’s moue of disapproval pinged my heart’s safety feature.
“Yeah, well, I think a couple of them have death-wishes, so there’s that.”
“Riggs is a smart guy, but why take chances? Couldn’t he order everyone to wear one?”
“Riggs knows when to pick his battles,” I said with one-hundred percent confidence. How? Because I’d already had that conversation with him after XXX took a spill, and I was one of the responding EMTs. Seeing your brother bleeding on the side of the road wasn’t something I ever wanted to see again. I probably would, though. It was just a matter of time.
I looked down at the menu, Grant’s displeasure landing like a rock on my chest. The subject needed to change… fast. “What’s good here? I’ve never been.”
“Really?” Grant laughed. “I find that hard to believe. Mario’s has been a staple in this town forever.”
Closing and tucking the menu under the lip of my bread plate, I said, “Order for me. No allergies. I like it all except calamari. Weirdlly, I like it pickled but not fried.”
“Pickled?” he gasped. “I’ve never… You know what? I don’t want to know.” Grant placed his menu on top of mine. “My favorites are the chicken Alfredo and the shrimp scampi over linguini.”
“Sounds good.” I leaned back in the chair and watched him fiddle with his silverware. He hadn’t been nervous the first time we’d met, but he was giving off some serious anxiety-ridden vibes now. I leaned forward. “What’s wrong?”
Grant shook his head, his denial nearly spilling out, but the server, dropping off bread, seasoned dipping oil, and ready to take our orders, interrupted. Instead, he reeled off the meal choices, and once the server left, he took a small roll and dismantled it with regimental precision.
“Grant?” I was going to ask again what was wrong, but what spilled out was, “How come you never called me? Or texted?”
“Me?” He gaped, then huffed. “What about you? You had my number.”
I chose a roll, broke off a piece, and popped it into my mouth, chewed and swallowed to give myself a moment. “True. I could have, but let’s take a sec to look at the situation. Suit and tie, club cut. Realtor, nurse. I’m not Mom’s first choice.”
He scoffed. “My mother’s my secretary. She loves me, supports me; accepts me for who I am and whomever I choose to love. But you’re right. I should have reached out, and I’m sorry I didn’t.”
With his eyes locked on me, I nodded and apologized as well. “Me, too. I’m prone to bad cases of self-flagellation. My parents were great when I was a kid, but Mom wanted the straight-A student, and Dad wanted the sports enthusiast. It was a lot of push-and-pull and never quite living up to either of their aspirations, so eventually they both started ignoring me in favor of my younger siblings. My sister is currently getting her MBA, and my brother is playing ball in the minor leagues. I’m sure they all love me, but none of them understands my choices: life, love, or career.”
“They don’t respect that you enlisted and became a nurse?” Grant seemed horrified that anyone would dare.
I shrugged. “They are fine with the nurse part. Mom’s a veterinarian. It was not going to college and enlisting that— I don’t think scared is the right word, but maybe the fact that I didn’t follow through on what they wanted for me drove a wedge between us. We talk around the holidays, and I try to get to my brother’s games when he plays out this way. Not that either is close—Albuquerque or Salt Lake City—so I have to schedule a couple of days off from work to go.”
Grant bobbed his head. “Not a lot of baseball in Colorado. We have a couple of Pioneer teams, but pretty much it’s football, basketball, and hockey.”
“You a fan?” I asked, relaxing into my chair and nibbling on the roll when the server arrived with our drinks.
“Meh.” Grant wobbled his head. “I like going to the occasional game, and I know the big players, so I can make conversation with clients, but I’m no die-hard.”
“Yeah, same for me. My brothers set the channel to the games in the clubhouse, but only a couple really watch.”
We talked about teams we’d seen and stadiums we’d been to until our meals arrived, then it was a few minutes of exchanging food and digging in. The chicken melted on my tongue, and the scampi was damn perfect.
“Mmm. Grant, this is so good. Thanks again for the invite.”
“My pleasure,” Grant said with a smile. “Can we consider this our first date?”
“First…?” Yeah, there was no keeping the grin off my face. “I’d like that.”