Ride Hard (Raven Riders #1)(81)
“I know,” Dare said. “Hated to close down, but it was unavoidable. Shouldn’t happen again.” The three weeks most of the club had been in Baltimore had made holding the races impossible, and then it had taken them two more to get the schedule up and running again. Dare couldn’t think of a time in all his years when they’d had to close down for so long before. He sure as hell hoped they never had cause for it to happen again.
Dutch nodded as he put the coffeepot back on its warmer. “I was hoping to make it out, but I don’t do so good walking on uneven surfaces right now. Damn hip.”
“Tell you what. You come out, you call me and let me know,” Dare said as he pulled a card from his wallet and pushed it across the counter. “I’ll have someone meet you at your car with a golf cart and escort you up to the track. I’ll have VIP seating waiting for you and Shirley. On the house.”
The man’s face went almost comically surprised for a moment. “That’s a helluva offer,” Dutch said, pocketing the card. “I just might take you up on that.”
“I hope you do,” Dare said, giving the old man a smile. Dutch was good f*cking people.
An older couple got up from the far end of the bar, and Dare happened to glance to his right in time to see the look of disapproval on the woman’s face as she eyed him—or, more likely, his colors—the patch and insignia on his cut. It didn’t bother Dare none. Not everyone understood what motorcycle clubs were about, and even a lot of people who thought they did had gotten a very particular view of them from television shows and cable news. And, anyway, even in a town as small as Frederick, you couldn’t expect everyone to like you, now could ya?
Dare cleaned his plate and threw a twenty down on the counter. “I’m heading out, Dutch. Hope to see you Friday night.”
From where he stood clearing dishes at the end of the bar, Dutch waved. “Me too. Ride safe.”
Dare smiled, because Dutch had offered that same farewell as long as Dare had known the man. “Always do.” He stepped out into the morning feeling more ready to face the day. Which was good, because the days immediately before a race were always a blur of activity and unexpected fires that needed to be put out. Jagger handled the lion’s share of it, but Dare helped however he could and whenever he was needed.
After all, race night running like clockwork equaled money pouring in, and after taking a month off, the club needed Friday night to run like a well-oiled machine. And it was Dare’s job as president to make sure it was f*cking so.
HAVEN WAS GLAD she was going to be here to experience one of the Raven Riders’ races. It would be just one more thing she would have to carry with her from this place that she’d come to love. And apparently one part of race day was food. Lots and lots of it. Food for the Ravens preparing for the race and working race day, food for their guests, food for the after-party. Which meant Haven was right in her element as she and Cora rolled up their sleeves and pitched in however Bunny needed them to.
She and Cora had seen Sam and Ben off on the school bus, and then Slider had come home and brought the women back to the clubhouse first thing this morning. The boys were ornery and funny and sweet beyond belief, and they’d all had a total ball hanging out. Back in Georgia, some of her father’s men had been in the habit of dropping their kids off for her to watch, so she’d spent a surprising amount of time around kids. And she’d loved it. She’d loved their innocence and their joy and their playfulness. Being around them felt hopeful, like anything was possible. And though the assumption that Haven was there to be used annoyed her, she didn’t mind watching the kids—because in addition to the fun distraction they provided, she knew she was keeping them from being left alone or put in positions kids shouldn’t be put in. Sam and Ben had reminded Haven how much she enjoyed kids—and made her actually contemplate having her own for the first time, now that she was free from that environment. So Slider’s boys would be another part of the big puzzle that made up the Ravens, which Haven already knew she was going to miss.
Gah. She was being a total sap. It wasn’t like she was ever meant to be a part of these people’s lives. She’d always just been passing through.
A client, Dare had called her. A client like every other.
Whatever. She threw herself into the work, glad for the distraction from how fast the days seemed to be flying by. And from the fact that she hadn’t seen Dare more than in passing in almost three days.
By the time dinner rolled around, Haven was achy from standing on her feet all day, but she’d also had a ton of fun hanging in the kitchen with Bunny and Cora, a few Raven wives who stopped by to help or drop off dishes and platters, and the occasional Raven who dared to try to sneak a bite and risked the smack of Bunny’s wooden spoon. That lady was tough. And awesome. The kind of woman Haven wanted to be. Which was why Haven loved her.
Haven loved . . . so much about the Ravens.
The three of them took their dinners in the kitchen to keep an eye on the variety of dishes they had going—the trays of lasagna Bunny was baking, the cinnamon roll dough Haven was preparing, the meatballs simmering in the giant Crock-Pot. Cora had prepared huge vegetable and fruit platters, and followed Haven’s quickly dashed-off recipes for several types of cookie dough, also waiting to be baked. The big kitchen was like an assembly line, and they still had a lot to do.