Page 15 of Wild Runaway
He must have lived here on his own for a long time, and while the cabin appears tidy, I doubt it’s ever had a deep clean.
I’ve pulled out all the supplies from the cupboard below the sink and am on my hands and knees with bright yellow cleaning gloves on.
There’s a thick layer of grease, and my cloth leaves a clear path as I run through it. I sigh in satisfaction and wash the cloth out in the bucket of soapy water. Another few swipes and I’ve got the bottom of the cupboard back to a fresh white. I’m about to start on the cupboard door when the sound of tires crunching on gravel makes me start.
Joseph took his motorbike today, and this is definitely a car engine. My heart jumps into my throat, and I can’t breathe.
How has Ian found me already?
I peer out from over the kitchen counter, and there’s a huge car parked out the front of the house. It’s some kind of classic old car with side wings. Not the type of car you find on the side of a mountain, but it’s not Ian’s beat up little Honda either.
A woman steps out of the passenger seat and she’s as classic looking as the car, in a 1950s style dress with curves to match and her hair pinned up in a red scarf.
She pulls a bag out of the back and marches to the front door and knocks.
I’m frozen down on my knees, peering over the kitchen counter, not sure if I should answer it or not. I’ve got no idea who this strange woman is.
She shields her eyes and peers in as she knocks on the door.
“Hey,” she calls. “I’m a friend of Lone Star. I’ve got baby clothes you can have.”
At that moment Rose wakes up with a cry, and there’s no point in pretending we’re not here. I pop up from behind the kitchen counter and pull my gloves off.
“Just a minute.”
I get Rose up before opening the door a crack.
The woman smiles when she sees Rose. “She’s adorable.”
Her eyes light up, and Rose smiles right back at her. “My little one’s sleeping in the car; she’ll be up soon.”
I peer past her to where the car door hangs open, and there’s the shape of a baby seat bundled up with a blanket.
“I’m Danni,” the woman says. “My husband, Colter, is in the club. Thought you might need some baby things and a bit of company.”
I like the woman instantly. She’s got a friendly air about her. I’m about to invite her in when there’s a cry from the car.
“Ah.” She pauses. “Bettie’s awake. It’s always the same as soon as the car stops.”
She retrieves her baby from the car and jostles her on her hip, soothing the tears.
“You mind if we come in for a bit? She needs a feed.”
I make a bottle for Rose while Danni feeds Bettie. They’re only a few months apart, and I chat easily with Danni, sharing motherhood stories and baby tips. It’s good to talk with another first time mom, and to meet one of Joseph’s, or Lone Star as everyone seems to call him, friends.
While I pour Danni a coffee, I work up the courage to ask what I really want to know.
“What are the MC like?”
You hear bad stories about motorcycle clubs and what they’re into, and I’ve only got Joseph’s word to go on.
Danni nods knowingly. “They’re good guys. They’re not like the MCs you see on the TV.”
She tells me about how her and Colter, known as Vintage, met and how the MC helped her set up her gallery and studio.
“It’s like a family here. They’ll do anything to help their own and protect them.”
She eyes me intently, and I wonder how much Joseph has shared about my situation.
