Page 9 of Scythe’s Salvation (Imperial Knights MC: Roanoke, VA #2)

CHAPTER

EIGHT

Tamara

“Mommy, look, I got one!” Chance exclaims as he works to bring in the fish on his line. Right now, it’s giving him a run for his money, that’s for sure. However, since he prefers to do it himself, instead of jumping in, I stand close in case he needs me and shout encouragement.

“Tighten the line. Keep reeling it in, buddy,” Scythe says, causing me to jump and turn around in absolute shock. When he sees me staring at him, he waves and says, “Hey, beautiful. I see y’all found my favorite fishing hole.”

I’m shocked speechless because in all the times I’ve come here with Chance, I’ve never run into another soul, and believe me, I’d have remembered running into Scythe before.

He looks even better than he did last week when he came in for a massage and I can only hope that I’m not drooling right now.

Outside of his initial glance at me, he’s been solely focused on my son, moving closer as he issues words of praise at how well Chance is handling himself as he finally reels in a decent sized trout that I can already taste.

“Good job, Chance,” I say as he deftly removes the hook from the fish’s mouth and drops it into the cooler we brought. We already have another trout, as well as a largemouth bass. Definitely will be eating good later on today.

“Who are you?” my son curiously asks Scythe now that he has his fish taken care of. He’s already rebaiting the hook but hasn’t cast it yet.

“I’m a friend of your mom’s,” Scythe replies, grinning at me. “My name’s Scythe and I used to fish down here a lot when I was younger, not so much these days because of work, but it’s the best spot to catch what you’re looking for.”

“We’re going to have a fish fry at Memaw’s house later,” Chance tells him. “She said if we caught the fish, she’d fry them up, and make hush puppies plus French fries!”

“Sounds like a good plan,” Scythe says, crouching so he’s more level with Chance. “Do you wanna know what works best for bait?”

Chance warily eyes him but nods. “We usually use worms,” he admits.

“Mud bugs,” Scythe announces. “Or chicken livers.”

“Mommy! Chickens have livers? ” Chance asks. I giggle a little remembering his traumatic conversation with Amara a few days ago.

“Yeah, buddy, they do.” Looking at Scythe I tell him, “Never used anything other than worms, to be honest.”

“Then it’s a good thing I showed up so y’all will have enough fish to feed everyone,” Scythe teases. “Let me go see if I can scare up some mud bugs.”

Great. Just great. He’s speaking my son’s language.

Mud. Visions of using the spot treatment to get stains out of his clothes dance in my head, then I realize he’s wearing stuff that’s so old, it has tears and holes, so worst case scenario, I’ll just throw them away.

Problem now solved, I watch as my boy walks next to Scythe as they look around for where mud bugs hide.

Personally, I’m not much of a bug fan, but I enjoy fishing and when I was little, Amara’s grandpa insisted that if I was going to learn about the best sport there was, I was going to have to learn how to bait a hook, so I push through my aversion each time I have to perform that grisly task.

Watching the man who’s larger than life and who has starred in many of my evening dreams help my son sends longing coursing through my body.

While I had hoped Tim was the one, his actions proved differently, and outside of Amara’s family, Chance has had little to no male influence.

Granted, he’s young, but there’s going to come a time when he’s going to need a man around to answer questions that I’m unable to, and I hope that when it happens, someone like Scythe is in the picture.

And why can’t it be Scythe? my mind murmurs. He’s single, you’re single… what’s the issue?

I guess the biggest issue is, of course, he hasn’t really indicated any interest in me outside of our professional relationship.

I’m not worried about him being a biker whatsoever.

The ones I’ve met in town have always been kind and courteous, and my interactions with Scythe to date have been the same.

I briefly wonder if Timmy… no, Tim, has a family now.

Then I think about the fact that if he does, any kids he has are Chance’s half- siblings.

Yeah… no. I’m not playing happy families with that son-of-a-bitch.

He can sit and spin, which may be an old saying, but it sure as hell fits the occasion as far as I’m concerned.

“What has you so deep in thought, Tamara?” Scythe asks as he and Chance come back with a handful of mud bugs that they’ve got in their shirts.

Granted, they’re rolled up to create a pouch, but still, seeing Chance’s shirt moving has me shuddering in disgust. When Scythe notices, he chuckles and says, “Your mom’s not a huge fan of bugs, buddy. ”

“No, she doesn’t like them all that much,” Chance replies, his tone matter of fact. “But she let me have an ant farm, until they escaped that is, and I got to keep the classroom’s Mexican hissing cockroaches over Christmas break when I was in PreK.”

“Mommy sure is brave,” Scythe whispers, so close to me now that I can feel his warm breath as it caresses my cheek.

“Mommy doesn’t want to be called a wimp,” I retort. “So, Mommy sucks it up and cringes in private.”

At that, Scythe lets loose a laugh that comes from his belly, bending over double as he slaps his knees.

Once he manages to calm himself, he stands and squeezes my shoulder then leans in closer to say, “I don’t mind handling bugs, Tamara.

Not one bit. Now, you sit back over there and me and your boy are gonna show you how it’s done, okay? ”

It’s not long before Chance and Scythe are huddled together like two little old ladies, talking strategy so they can catch the most fish.

Oh, and apparently, Scythe is now joining us for this fish fry at Chance’s invitation.

I pull out my phone and decide to forewarn Amara.

I know Memaw won’t really mind, she always says there’s plenty of room at her table, but it’s the polite thing to do.

Me: Hey, just to let you know, Chance invited someone to come with us to the fish fry tonight.

Amara: Let me guess, it’s some kindergarten hussy I’ll have to put in her place, make her cry, and ruin his chances for everlasting love.

Me: You nitwit! No, the biker I told you about is coming.

Amara: Really? Do tell…I want all the details, my friend!

Me: Nothing to tell. We were fishing and he showed up. Apparently, he’s familiar with this spot and now he and Chance are thicker than thieves as they plot domination over the fish.

Amara: And what are you doing?

Me: Watching, of course. The man is sin covered in tattoos and right now, I’m trying to figure out how far they go.

Amara: Hmm, maybe you could check him out when you have him on your massage table next?

Me: You want me to lose my license and end up living in a cardboard box under the bridge?

Amara: Quit being so dramatic, you know we’ll let you live in the attic.

Me: So generous.

Amara: Of course, anything for my bestie! Can you snap a pic of the two of them?

Me: Yeah, I’ll get one for you.

It takes some time, but I’m finally able to take an adorable picture of the two of them. Their backs are to me, asses on a rock, rods in the water, and Chance is looking up toward Scythe, while Scythe is looking down at Chance. If a person didn’t know better, they’d think they were father and son.

Amara: Be still my heart. That’s absolutely precious and a framer for sure!

Me: Right? You know what I thought of?

Amara: What?

Me: What if Tim is married and has a family now? Chance would have siblings, Am!

Amara: Want me to dig around and see what I can find out?

I sigh because I know she’ll do it whether or not I say yes, so I might as well tell her to go ahead. At least then, she’ll hopefully be subtle.

Me: Go ahead but be discreet!

Amara: I’m always discreet.

Me: Um, remember when…

Amara: We don’t talk about that incident, remember????? Go fish.

Me: Got any threes?

Amara: Bitch. We’ll see y’all in a few hours. I’m out. Gonna take a nap.