“Who?”

“John Benson.”

“No way,” I muttered, stunned. “John Benson, our landlord?”

”Yeah,” she said, looking sheepish. “You may not know this, but he and I had a thing a long time ago…”

“I know,” I replied. “I also know he was married.”

She had the grace to look embarrassed.

“Well, I’ve made mistakes. But you should know we both felt guilty. That’s why we ended it. His wife never knew. She’s been dead for about three years now, car accident. John and I had been avoiding each other for so long it became a habit, but I guess when he read about me in the paper he started thinking about me.”

Only my mother would end up finding love by trying to run over two cops. Clearly, John Benson was an idiot.

“He wants me to marry him.”

I shook my head, unsure what to say. Finally I managed to speak.

“Well, I guess that’s good, Mom. How does he feel about what happened?”

“He knows I have my issues, but I’m sober now, which has helped me sort things out,” she said. That was true—she’d joined AA even before her little incident. We’d confronted her about her drinking after Jeff found her passed out outside the trailer in the snow last winter. It was a miracle she survived. “I’ve realized now that I need to deal with my emotions or I get…upset.”

That was the understatement from hell.

“Aren’t you supposed to stay out of relationships your first year of AA?”

“It’ll be almost a full year by the time I get out,” she replied. “I’d get out a little earlier for good behavior, but they’re not cutting me any slack because of the cop thing.”

We looked at each other, both thinking back to that day. She sighed.

“I never do anything halfway, do I?”

I shook my head, smiling ruefully.

“That’s the truth.”

“I’m moving in with him when I get out. That’s good news for you and Jeff, I guess. You’ll get to keep the trailer all to yourselves.”

I shrugged.

“I guess if that’s what you want,” I replied. “It concerns me a little, but if you’re happy, that’s good enough for me.”

She smiled, the tension on her face easing.

“Thank you, baby,” she whispered. “I’ve been worried about telling you guys. You talk to Jeff for me? He hasn’t been to visit in a month and I’m worried. Is everything okay?”

I thought about how to answer her question. I didn’t know of anything specifically wrong with Jeff, but there was definitely something going on. How to explain that though?

“He’s been kind of edgy,” I said finally. “And lost some weight. But he hasn’t talked to me about anything and when I asked he blew me off. Wish I could tell you more.”

“Thanks for that,” she said. “You tell him I love him?”

“I’ll tell him.”

Sept. 1

Me: Well that was fun

Horse: ?

Me: Went to see mom. She’s good, but crazy news. Getting married

Horse: This a good thing?

Me: Not sure. He’s the guy who owns our trailer. They used to have a thing, but he was married. Wife died couple years ago

Horse: Good guy?

Me: Cheated on his wife

Horse: One-time thing or pattern?

Me: Short term accord to mom. Says they both felt awful, ended it. Explains why we get the trailer so cheap

Horse: No shit

Horse: You like him?

Me: I guess. Always been nice to me. She’s moving in with him when she gets out.

Horse: Then be happy for your mom.

Me: Gonna try

Sept. 3

Horse: Whens your next day off?

Me: Thurs. Why?

Horse: Want to visit

Me: I’d like that :)

Sept. 6

I studied my face in the mirror critically, wishing I didn’t feel so nervous. The bruises had faded, which was good, and you could hardly see where my lip had been split. There were still a few yellowish splotches but I covered those up with strategically placed makeup. I put on a pretty sundress—nothing fancy, but bright and cheerful and it made my boobs look fantastic.

All in all, I looked human again.

Horse would arrive any time. The drive was a little over three hours, and he’d texted me when he left at seven that morning. I couldn’t define our relationship, but he wanted to visit me, not Jeff, and he was coming by himself. That had to mean something. And I couldn’t be just a booty call when he’d never gotten my booty, right?

I heard him pulling up and paused at the door, tugging up the bodice of my dress. Cleavage had seemed like a great idea earlier, but now I felt self-conscious. He knocked on the door.

“You there, sweet butt?” he called. I opened the door and his eyes went straight to my chest.

“Don’t call me sweet butt,” I snapped at him and he grinned, reaching out a finger to poke my nose.

“Bitchy, aren’t we?”

“Rude, aren’t we?”

“Always.”

We started laughing at the same time and he pulled me into his arms, giving me a welcome kiss that made me forget everything else. While his tongue explored my mouth, his hands roamed down to my rear, cupping my cheeks and pulling me up and into his hips. I felt his cock against my stomach and sparks raced through me. Hard to believe I could make this handsome, intimidating biker so aroused.

Finally the need to breathe got the better of me, and I pulled away from him, taking his hand and drawing him in to the living room to the couch. He looked around, eyes pausing as they took in Jeff’s pipe on the coffee table.

“Your brother here?”

“He’s still in bed,” I said. “Not really a morning person.”

He gave a rueful laugh.

“Me neither, got up too early this morning.”

A thrill ran through me—he’d been eager enough to see me that he’d gotten up early!

“So you have business down here?” I asked, trying to sound casual. He shook his head.

“Just you, babe.”

I grinned at him like an idiot. So much for being cool.

“So what do you want to do?”

He raised an eyebrow.

“Do you really have to ask?”

I laughed nervously. He might be gorgeous, but I couldn’t just jump into bed with him, not like this. I needed a little warming up first.

“Um, how about I show you around the area a little, maybe go down to the river or something?”

He gave me a knowing look.

“Chicken.”

“Maybe.”

“Okay, we’ll play this your way. You want to pack a lunch or go out?”

I thought about my bank balance—growing, but still low—and decided a picnic was the way to go.

“Give me ten minutes and I’ll have something pulled together.”

“You’d better change too.”

“Why?”

“Because you can’t ride a bike in that dress. Put on some jeans.”

“I’ve never ridden a bike before.”

Horse leaned over and gave me a quick kiss on the mouth.

“Lookin’ forward to being your first, babe.”

It took more like half an hour, but I packed a lunch, a blanket to sit on and some condoms (carefully zipped into a pocket in my purse), just in case. Horse handed me a black helmet that looked like what a German army guy would wear—you know, the kind that flares out a little around the edges? I wasn’t quite sure how to adjust it, but he put it on my head and fixed the straps carefully, like I was fragile and precious. I loved how that made me feel. Then I got on the bike behind him, which was an experience in and of itself. The Harley was big and wide, and I had to spread my legs around his hips. My naughty bits didn’t miss the symbolism there. I wasn’t quite sure where to put my arms, but he grabbed my hands and pulled them around to his stomach.

“Hold tight,” he said. “Tap my stomach if you need me to stop for some reason and watch out for the pipes. They get hot.”

“Okay,” I replied nervously.

Then the bike roared to life and we pulled down the driveway.