Page 36 of Zeppelin (Satan’s Angels MC #9)

Zeppelin

“E xcuse me, but this is a reputable organization. It’s a family thing with a family atmosphere.”

Those aren’t exactly the first words I want to hear after pulling up outside the arena and parking my bike.

I left my brain bucket on the handlebar and as soon as I turned around, an old bag of bones was ambling up, motoring her way across the gravel parking lot with a whole lot of no good, old biddy rage showing on her wrinkled face.

She stopped ten feet away from me as if I might be ultra contagious, and let me have it, finger wagging and all.

The farmer’s market takes place inside the arena, but the whole parking lot is bustling with trucks, SUVs, vans, and even cars, all unloading and carrying things inside. Ginny’s truck and trailer are on the far end of the parking lot, but I haven’t seen her yet.

There are plenty of other onlookers. People all around the parking lot are frozen, staring me down. They’re more than a little tense and a few gasped as soon as this old woman started in with her assumptions and prejudices.

It’s my own fault. I should have worn a regular leather jacket and not my club vest. I reached for it automatically, and didn’t think about it until I was halfway here.

“We don’t allow gang colors here,” the old woman sneers now that she’s gathered enough breath to keep chewing me a new one.

I want to correct her so damn badly, but as I open my mouth, Ginny appears from around the corner of the arena, ready to get another load out of her trailer. She freezes, eyes going huge as she takes in the obvious dressing down between me and Senior Citizen Sally over here.

I shut my trap, my measured words of education dying as soon as I lock eyes with Ginny.

This month was kind to her. She looks no different.

No noticeable bump, no rounder features, but her skin is even more tanned and she’s glowing in a light blue sundress with an old, oversized denim jacket thrown on and combat boots laced up on her feet.

I’m afraid that I’m going to embarrass her, but as I study her face, she doesn’t seem embarrassed.

There’s something deep in her eyes, half pride and half some other strong emotion.

Her face is half fondness and half storm.

I don’t have to defend myself. She looks like a grizzly who someone decided to fuck around with and now they’re about to find out.

This is her thing. Her day. Her livelihood. If I fuck this up for her and get her kicked out of it, what’s she going to do? She takes a step forward and then another and another, picking up speed like she’s about to charge. I can’t let that happen.

“That’s not a problem, ma’am.” No one in their right mind likes being called ma’am, so I lay it on extra thick as a silent form of retribution. “I’ll take it off. I’m sorry. I should have thought. I’m just here to help out. I’m not a bad guy, and I’m not here to cause trouble.”

She sniffs, raising her old lady nose in the air. In the past I might have called her A few choice words both in my head and otherwise. But that was the old Zeppelin. Today I’m just gonna shut my mouth and suck it up.

I take off my vest and fold it up. The only gasp comes from Ginny.

She rushes through the parking lot, past Bag Central, launches herself at me when she’s close, and throws her arms around my neck.

Her body presses up against mine, the curve of her hips mashing pretty much right into my groin.

My brain malfunctions at the wildflower honey scent of her hair, the warm softness of her body, the power and muscle in her lithe limbs, the peppermint of her breath.

There’s no old lady. No crowd. All I can think of is how good she feels and how I better not spring a spontaneous boner.

That would not make anything better.

“You don’t have to take that off,” she whispers right into my ear.

“It’s alright. I shouldn’t have shown up in it.” I’m holding my vest with one hand, but I curl my stiff arm loosely around her back. “Should have used my brain for once and just worn a regular jacket.”

“It would have shown her if your t-shirt was a club one too,” she snaps, still not completely off the warpath. “She’s not a nice lady. She’s always high on the power of running a small town farmer’s market. It’s gross. I can tell her where she should—”

I bracket her shoulders, just to pull her back and cut her off. “I missed you.”

The burst of honesty shocks us both. That wasn’t what I was going to say.

She’s immediately silenced. She doesn’t blurt out anything that’s going to set the evil granny a few feet away on us or get her kicked out of the way she makes a living. “I- I missed you too,” her voice wavers, but I can tell she’s not uncertain about it.

Her cheeks burst into petal pink softness, her lips curl up, and the wind picks up strands of her long, wavy hair and tosses them over her shoulders. She’s so beautiful. I want to sweep her back into my arms and kiss her right here, but she’s not mine. That would only cause a further scene.

I’ve distracted Ginny enough. I came here to be helpful, and I should do that. “What can I help with?”

“Everything.” She steps back, the tenderness and warrior hard expression fading into a professional mask. “My gosh, everything . It’s all still in the trailer. I got the tables set up and our banners, but that’s all I’ve done.”

“Don’t lift anything heavy. Let me do it.”

“I’m fi—”

“I’m sure there’s plenty for you to do, even if you save the heavy lifting for me—a big man who does heavy lifting for a living.”

“Okay.” She doesn’t roll her eyes or sigh. She just blinks at me as though she still can’t believe that I’m real. She doesn’t hide what she’s thinking, and I can tell that she’s glad to see me. “Thank you again for coming.”

My insides are thrown straight into riot territory.

My cock wants to rise to half-mast so damn badly, but I focus on things like carrots and potatoes.

That just reminds me of a dick and balls, which doesn’t help anything.

I go for a distraction instead, as I follow Ginny across the parking lot, trying the whole time not to notice the soft swaying of her hips under her dress.

“Are you feeling okay? It’s hot. Did you bring water?

I can get some if you forgot. You need to stay hydrated if you can stomach it. ”

“I’ll sip something all day. I’ve found that eating little things constantly and chewing gum helps.

” She glances over her shoulder almost playfully and I shove my jacket over my crotch immediately.

The senior citizen police will probably notice me sporting wood while I’m carrying shit in and that will be the end for me.

“My stomach already had its early morning purge, so I should be good for a while.”

“I hate that you’re still getting sick.” I’d trade places with her in an instant. I wish that was possible, especially as I play that morning we spent together at her place over in my mind. I’m sure it’s not that bad every day, but how does she get through it?

“Don’t go sympathy stomach on me.” As per fucking always, she knows exactly what I’m thinking.

We reach her trailer. She has the ramp down already and motions me inside.

I study the different sizes of crates, all stacked up neatly.

This thing obviously gets packed so tightly that nothing can shift in transit.

With the tables and chairs she already took out, there’s just a little bit of space in the back. The rest all has to be carried in.

It’s a good thing that I’ll be able to manage multiples at a time. All the light stuff like the baked goods, appear to be at the front.

“Why don’t you show me where your table is and how you want things set and I’ll do it.

” I reach for the first stack of crates that contain bundles of lettuce and herbs.

Below the first few rows are bags of small potatoes.

“Holy shit. What did you guys water these with? Steroids? Crack? How did these grow so fast?”

“When we start them early, it doesn’t take long for them to hit the garden and get huge. We have good soil. Lots of compost and fertilizer. Most things aren’t ready yet. This is just the first of the early stuff.”

The day I helped her plant some things feels literally like freaking yesterday, but it’s been well over a month. It’s crazy how the days seem so long, but then they lump up together and time just seems to vanish.

She takes up a crate of preserves. I don’t argue, even though I want to.

I follow her into the arena.

While we’re walking, I hear one guy talking to another.

“That’s the guy with Satan’s Angels. Doesn’t Rose Beth know about all the good things the club has done for Hart?

I wish we had a club here that would take care of things like they did.

No drugs, low crime, events for the community…

they’re a decent club and I heard the guy in charge of it is a good man.

Homegrown and reared to take it over. They make Hart a safe community that they can be proud of.

It’s more than we can say for this place some days. ”

“Huh,” Ginny says as she sets her crate down under the square of tables she’s set up inside. There are eight of them that she had to carry in by herself. That makes me want to punch myself for not leaving twenty minutes earlier this morning. “At least public sentiment is sort of on our side.”

Our side.

She really just said that. I’m going to be walking around here with an ache in my chest and a swelling head. Not necessarily just the one on my shoulders either.

After a few more trips, I state firmly that I’ve got the rest and suggest that Ginny work on setting things up on the tables the way she wants them. She doesn’t like it, but I guess she sees the practicality in it, because she only offers basic resistance before doing what I suggested.

By the time the market opens at nine, she’s ready to go.