Burning Hot Rumors (Choices: Tarkio MC Book 2) Read online

  Tapping the door with his hand, he said, "Move on out. Your business isn't welcome here."

  Josh held up a ten-dollar bill. "I'm a paying customer."

  "Not here, you're not." He stepped back from the truck and waved the next person to move forward. "Pull out of line, and leave."

  "The hell I will." Josh revved his engine.

  Kent stepped forward, reached out, and grabbed Hill by the front of his shirt. Catching him by surprise, he opened the door with his other hand, and Hill fell to the ground.

  He planted his boot in the middle of Hill's chest. "Last time I'm going to tell you that your business isn't welcome here. Now, you're going to get back in your truck and leave."

  Hill pushed against Kent's leg. Kent, solidly pushing his weight down, never budged. No one needed to tell him Hill was an asshole.

  The older man parked behind Josh's truck approached Kent. "What's going on?"

  "No trouble." Kent met his gaze. "Just letting him know that he's not welcomed here. As soon as he moves his truck, I'll be glad to put gas in your tank."

  The older man fought a grin. "No hurry. I have all the time in the day to wait while you take care of business."

  "Appreciate it." Kent bent at the waist, grabbed Hill, and hauled him to his feet. "Time for you to leave."

  Hill glared but moved away from Kent, got in the cab of the pickup, and roared the engine before shooting forward, almost hitting him. He walked over to the pump and lifted his chin at the next customer. "Any time you're ready, you can pull forward."

  While he set the nozzle in the gas tank, Callie came outside. "Are you okay?"

  "Yeah." He caught sight of the pinched brows over her eyes before she looked away. "I got things under control. Why don't you take a break and have lunch? I'll cover the store for you."

  Her brows flatlined the longer she looked at him. The pump clicked off.

  "I'll only take ten minutes, then you can take your lunch," she said.

  "Take your time." He walked to the driver's side and collected the money.

  Finished at the pump, he went inside, but Callie had already left. Knowing she usually walked to the trailer, he settled in behind the counter on the stool. He wasn't worried about losing his job for fighting with a customer.

  If Callie wanted to fire him, she had every right. But he had a feeling she wasn't even aware of what went on around her, including Hill always showing up at the gas station. Her staying oblivious to others had increased after her dad passed away.

  If she was going to make it on her own, she was going to have to face the talk going around about her and stand up for herself. Or the people of Missoula were going to walk all over her.

  Chapter 10

  Kent

  A WOMAN BENT OVER IN front of the newspaper drop box on the sidewalk in front of the gas station. Kent's gaze swept over her ass and down her legs to the four-inch heels. He always appreciated a pair of tight jeans.

  "Argh." The woman jiggled the handle, then straightened and dug in the purse hanging down at her side.

  Kent walked over to her. "Trouble?"

  "The stupid thing ate my quarter." She glanced up at him and smiled, blushing prettily. "I really did put the coin in the slot."

  He reached in front of her, hit his fist against the side, and opened the door. She laughed and reached inside.

  "Thank you." She remained in front of him.

  "The ground slopes and the coin can't roll down to activate the door. You're not the first person it's happened to." He wiped his hands off on the rag and then stuffed the material in his back pocket.

  "Ah, good to know." Her gaze dropped to his chest. "Do you work here?"

  "Yeah, the name's Kent Calder."

  "Nice to meet you." She held out her hand. "I'm Kathy."

  He dipped his chin instead of shaking with his dirty hand. She was a good-looking woman. A little taller than most, close to his age. He looked down. There was no ring on her finger.

  "Well, I better go inside. I'm out of milk and have a fresh pot of coffee plugged in at home, waiting for me." She sighed softly and patted his chest. "Coffee is always on if you ever feel like having a cup."

  He raised his brow. "Is that so?"

  "Brown house on Second Street, across from the elementary school." She went to step around him and brushed his arm. "I hope to see you later."

  He turned, following her with his gaze. Rewarded when she put an extra wiggle in her walk.

  A car pulled in. He jogged over to the pump.

  The driver honked and came to a stop. A woman jumped out of the car and yelled, "Kathy."

  Then, the driver held her finger up toward Kent. "I'll be right back."

  He waited, watching the two women gather in front of the door of the gas station.

  "Are you signing Sara up for tumbling?" asked the woman.

  "Oh, God. I forgot." Kathy waved her hand in the air. "Can I send the permission slip to school with her tomorrow?"

  "Sure." The woman laughed and rolled her eyes. "Polly's been bugging me for the last week, telling me she won't do the class if Sara doesn't. I really need that extra hour when she's busy, so I can work until four o'clock. I wish she was old enough to leave at home by herself after school, but the last time I tried, she let the dog out and forgot about him, then ended up calling me every five minutes with a hundred questions. Is Sara staying by herself yet?"

  Kathy planted her hand on her hip. "She's been walking home and staying by herself since school started."

  "Great," muttered the woman. "I'm behind on teaching my daughter to take care of herself. I'm sure the next P.T.A. meeting will be a bitch fest about me."

  "I'll make sure to swing the conversation around if that happens." Kathy backed away. "I need to buy milk and get back home to enjoy the quiet time, but I'll make sure to sign the permission slip and send it with Sara tomorrow."

  "Thanks, chick." The woman sidestepped toward the pump. "Good luck inside with Callie. I heard she was seen screwing Troy Brennan in the bed of his truck the day after her daddy died."

  "Oh, Lord." Kathy shook her head. "With how many men she's had, she better go to the doctor and get tested for AIDS before she spreads her diseases to every man in Missoula."

  Kent squeezed the nozzle at the pump. He was getting damn tired of the bitches in town talking about Callie. If they knew her at all, they'd stop all the bullshit.

  Kathy walked inside the store. The woman came back to her car, stopping in front of him, and held out five dollars.

  He took the cash and began filling her car. In his peripheral vision, the woman walked around to the driver's side.

  "You're wrong," he said, stopping her from getting inside the car.

  "Excuse me?"

  He looked straight at her. "You're wrong about Callie. The day after her father died, she had a broken heart and had to find the strength to deal with the business of burying her dad. Maybe spread that around instead of the rumors."

  The woman ducked into the car and slammed the door. He held it together until the woman drove away, and then he went inside the store.

  Kathy was at the counter paying for a gallon of milk. Disgust filled him. There was nothing that turned him off more than a pretty woman who was ugly inside.

  Callie handed over the change. "Have a good day."

  The other woman scoffed, snatched up the carton of milk, and completely ignored Callie. Kent stayed by the door.

  Kathy was halfway to him when she raised her head, spotted him, and smiled flirtatiously. She stopped in front of him, obviously waiting for him to open the door.

  He walked past her. She could open the damn door herself.

  Callie's brows lifted, her gaze flashing to him in silent question. He dropped the money from the pump on the counter.

  The bell on the door slowly stopped ringing. He pushed the five-dollar bill in front of her. "Can you break that up into ones, so I have change on me?"

  She took the cash out of the
drawer of the register. "Why'd you snub the customer?"

  "Because she's a bitch." He folded the bills and slid them into his front pocket.

  "I noticed her flirting with you outside." Callie sat down on the stool. "She's married, in case you care."

  He wasn't surprised. A desperate woman was rarely honest.

  "Though if you listen to rumors, I think she and Bobby are separated right now. So, I guess it doesn't matter," she mumbled.

  "Not interested in what she had to offer." He studied Callie. "You know, you don't have to let her, or anyone, treat you that way."

  "It doesn't matter." She turned to the side and straightened the jar of pickled eggs and container of jerky on the counter.

  "It should."

  "Well, it doesn't." She looked toward the door. "A customer is outside."

  He glanced over his shoulder. She wanted to avoid the conversation, but it was time she heard the truth.

  "Do you know what they say about you?" he asked.

  She lifted her chin. "You need to go work outside."

  "Answer me first."

  She looked at him with dull eyes. "Yes. I do. Now, go work."

  "Why do you let them walk all over you?"

  She rubbed her lips together. He refused to leave. If she wasn't going to stop the rumors, he would.

  "You don't know..." She closed her mouth and shook her head.

  He planted his hands on the counter and leaned closer to her. "Tell me."

  She glanced between him and the door. He balled his fists. As an outsider, he wanted to shake her. She wasn't alone anymore. He was right here.

  "I did fight back against the rumors, but that only made them talk more. I'm too old to worry if everyone thinks I've slept with every man in Missoula." She shrugged. "It's a small town. You can't stop people from talking when it's their favorite pastime."

  "That's bullshit," he muttered.

  The car at the pump honked. He pushed off the counter and went outside. The conversation with Callie wasn't over.

  Someone started the rumors about her. Going from everything he knew about her, she wasn't the kind of lady who slept around. Even if that was her behavior in the past, nobody had a right to judge her.

  Every man had the right to fuck around without damaging his reputation. It should be that way for women, too.

  He leaned down and looked inside the open window of the vehicle. "What can I get you?"

  "Can you fill it up?" The female customer brushed her long black hair out of her eyes. "Can I also pay you instead of going inside?"

  "Sure." He straightened. "I'll give you the total when the pump clicks off."

  "Oh, good." The woman smiled. "I wasn't looking forward to going in and dealing with Callie."

  "Yeah?" He stopped and leaned down again. "Why not?"

  The woman tapped her hand on the steering wheel. "Josh is our friend. After what she's done to him, I hate even stopping here for gas and giving her our money. She deserves nothing."

  He walked around the car. Ed had told him Josh Hill could hurt Callie. From what he'd seen of the guy and dealt with, he'd taken the word of caution as truth. Though he hadn't pegged Callie as having a past with him.

  Taking the nozzle off the pump, he filled the car. Were Josh and Callie together at one time? Were all the rumors started to hurt her?

  The number dials flipped steadily. He glanced over at the store. When he'd started working here, he never planned to get involved in anyone's life.

  But there was something about Callie that spoke his name, even when she refused to say it.

  Chapter 11

  Callie

  AN IRRITATING BANG shook the house. Callie pulled the blanket over her head and groaned. No matter how many times her dad had adjusted the cement blocks underneath the trailer, every step or knock, vibrated through all seven hundred square feet of the mobile home.

  The loud knock came again. She flung back the blanket, crawled out of bed, and dragged her feet across the floor. The closed sign on the gas station never stopped travelers from trying to get her to open the door on her day off.

  She really needed to remove the handwritten note her dad had put up on the front door directing customers to the trailer if there was an emergency.

  Not caring that she wore a jogging suit that was ripped at the knee and hung off her butt, she stopped in front of the door when it banged, almost breaking the lock.

  She opened the door and prepared to tell whoever it was to go away. Kent held up his fist, ready to beat on the trailer again. She gawked at him. Out of everyone, he should understand what a day off meant.

  "I've been out here for ten minutes." He filled the doorframe. "What took you so long to answer the door?"

  She turned around and walked to the kitchen. "I was sleeping."

  "It's one o'clock in the afternoon," he said, behind her.

  "Okay." She turned on the faucet and filled a glass with water. "Is that supposed to mean something? It's my day off."

  "Why are you sleeping the day away?"

  She drank the whole glassful and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. "Nothing else to do."

  "Damnit, Callie. You need to do something more than hide away in here. It's been three months since you lost your dad. He'd want you to pick yourself up and enjoy life again." He rubbed his hands together to warm them.

  "Get dressed and come out with me," he said.

  Her gaze narrowed. "I'm not going out."

  "I need your help."

  "For what?"

  "I'm going to go look at a guy's van. If it's not a piece of shit, I'm going to buy it and park it over at Curley's house over the winter, so I have somewhere warm to sleep." He turned and motioned with his chin. "I need to be there in a half-hour. When we're done, I'll help you get a fire going in the woodstove before I head out. It's freezing in here. Don't you have the heat on?"

  "It's on. The windows let in the outside air, and the wind is blowing. It makes the floor cold." She inhaled a shuddering breath. "I was warm before you woke me up."

  "Bundle up. I want to leave in five minutes."

  "On your motorcycle?"

  "Not if you hurry." He walked toward the door. "If I show up in your truck, he'll be more likely to sell me the rig."

  "That makes no sense." She frowned. "What does the truck have to do with anything? You're buying the van with cash, right?"

  The truck belonged to her dad. Or, had.

  She studied him. He wouldn't try and trade the only vehicle she had for a van. Would he? It was her truck now.

  "People don't like bikers. They really don't like doing business with them."

  That made no sense to her, but she was curious about why he would think that. She walked to her bedroom. Had Kent been taken advantage of before because he rode a Harley?

  Halfway through changing her clothes, she froze, realizing what he wanted to do. Was he still living down at the river in a tent?

  She closed her eyes an extra beat. With everything going on and losing her dad, she hadn't given Kent's living situation any thought. Slipping on a pair of boots, she went back to the living room and grabbed her coat and the keys off the hook by the door.

  Tossing the keyring to him, she said, "You can drive."

  The fresh, cold air hit her face, fully waking her up. She inhaled deeply, smelling the faint pine scent from the tamarack trees turning brown. At one time, she used to enjoy spending time outdoors

  Reminded of Kent staying at the river, she asked, "I didn't know you were still sleeping in a tent."

  "It's not something I go around talking about." He opened the door of the truck.

  "Even so, I feel bad that you've been roughing it."

  She climbed in, and he shut her in before she could press her back to the seat. When he climbed inside with her, he started the engine. The old windshield with the crack running along the bottom fogged up.

  Opening the glove compartment, she removed the old rag her dad had always
used, and wiped the condensation off the glass in front of her, then stretched in front of Kent and wiped his side off.

  She put the cloth back and spotted her dad's gloves. Her eyes teared, and she found herself picking them up and holding them to her nose. Inhaling deeply, she tried hard to pick up the scent of her dad. To remember the roughness of his strong hands.

  Emotions clogged her throat. Aware of the truck not moving, she shoved the gloves away and slammed the metal door closed. Not looking at Kent, her face warmed, knowing he watched her.

  "Are you freezing in your tent with the temperatures dipping into the thirties?" she blurted, needing to make him stop looking at her in that way he always seemed to do when she struggled to do the simplest things lately.

  "Froze my nuts off last night." He backed up the truck and pulled forward, heading for the road. "I thought I had more time before the weather changed. I was holding out because Curley mentioned he knew a guy who had a motorhome I could rent, but that fell through."

  She knew Curley. Or, knew of him. He was a couple years younger than her and a member of Tarkio Motorcycle Club. The bikers tended to keep to themselves, but years ago, they would show up at different parties that were happening—back when she was married and doing what everyone else in Missoula would do on the weekends.

  "Why haven't you gone to a motel, at least?" she asked.

  "The two in Missoula won't rent to me on a weekly basis. Apparently, I could stay for the night or even by the hour, but that doesn't do me much good if I'm back at the river the next night." He lifted his hand from the steering wheel and turned the heater up higher. "They hear my Harley pull up to the office and then see me and don't want a biker staying there. Apparently, it's bad for business."

  "Did they say that?"

  His thumb lifted from the steering wheel. "Didn't have to. It is what it is."

  At the gas station, she rather have the bikers come around than the regular citizens of Missoula. They never spread rumors or insulted her to her face.

  The heater fan blew warm air. She looked out the windshield and took the rest of the trip across town in silence. Used to working beside Kent every day, the lack of conversation between them was a comfortable one. She was glad that he never seemed to have a need to talk, just to hear his voice.