His Old Lady - Debra Kayn Page 0,19

to call Tracy and share the good news with her was stronger than if she was getting a job in Superior.

But she had to be careful. Being in the same town as Tarkio Motorcycle Club would make it easy to slip back and be closer to the bikers than was smart. She'd only be disappointed when they all supported Curley and not her.

They weren't her family in the real sense. The only person she had that she could claim was Curley, and he'd already made his view of her clear.

Besides, she needed to keep her new job a secret from him. She wasn't going to give him the chance to ruin her plans for her future.

She strolled to her car, unable to wipe the smile off her face. The hours until work tonight would go painfully slow. She was ready to get her first night over with now.

No one had ever seen her topless. Not in high school when she'd use a towel to cover the front of her on the way to the showers after PE. Not even make-out sessions with teenage boys. Any fooling around happened with hands slipped under her shirt or down her jeans.

The only man who'd ever seen her completely nude was Curley. Thank goodness, Kingston Bar was only a topless business and not a stripper joint.

"Hey," shouted a male voice.

At her vehicle door, she turned and shielded her eyes against the glare of the sun. Recognizing Paco walking toward her, she waved and stayed to see what he was doing.

Paco would never know she still had the Lisa Frank Notebook and pens he'd bought her for her thirteenth birthday. He was younger than the bikers Uncle Walker used to hang around with, and that year he'd given her something prevalent with the girls at school and made her the most popular girl during the hour she got to hang out with friends before Grandma June wanted her help in the greenhouse.

She wasn't sure of Paco's age, but he couldn't be more than ten years older than her. Maybe thirty-four years old at the most—now that she was an adult that made him someone from her age group. Pretty much.

Paco stopped in front of her. Sensing something wrong, she studied him.

His long hair was tangled and swept back off his forehead. She gazed at his chest. He wore club leather. He'd been riding.

"It's early for a Tarkio member to be out and about." She raised her gaze. "Everything okay?"

She hadn't seen him since she'd stopped in at the clubhouse. Because Curley had upset her, she'd ignored everyone else.

"I could be better." He frowned. "What are you doing here?"

Her skin prickled. He hadn't randomly run into her. Curley had sent him.

She'd had Tarkio members approach her over the years, every time they wanted to know what was going on with her because Curley was too chicken shit to come and find out himself.

That knowledge upset her.

"I'm going home." She pointed at the car, not giving him any more information.

Curley or Tarkio wouldn't disrupt her first night on a new job and ruin her successes.

"You went into Kingston Bar." Paco's frown deepened. "That's probably not a good idea. Missoula is bigger than Superior. This isn't some small-town bar. There are some places in town that a lady shouldn't go inside without a man."

She cocked her eyebrow. They both knew her man wasn't going to walk inside an establishment with her, and she had no choice but to go alone. Curley wanted nothing to do with her.

Paco shook his head, his gaze softening. "Faye..."

She opened the car door and slid into the seat. "Take care of yourself, Paco."

She started the engine before she worked up the nerve to tell him exactly what she thought of his opinion and backed out of the parking spot. She drove across the asphalt, and only while she was looking left and right for oncoming traffic had she dared look at Paco.

He was no longer standing in front of the building, he headed inside.

She drove away. Time was her friend.

By tonight, Paco would forget about running into her, and she could work without worry that he'd return tonight and catch her with her top off.

Chapter 8

Curley

Frank pulled a piece of paper out of his vest pocket and held it up in front of Curley. "This is it, brother."

Taking a look at the black and white Harley Davidson picture ripped out of the newspaper, he whistled softly. "Sweet. How many owners?"

"Only one. It's been