Twenty minutes later, the trees gave way to a small lakeside town. The store was on the shore, a rustic wooden building with a porch out front and a snow-covered sign indicating its wares. He guided the bike into a parking space nearby and put the stand down. Honor’s grip loosened instantly and fell away, as if she couldn’t wait to stop touching him.
If he hadn’t felt the spark between them he may have found that discomforting. But he didn’t. He knew why she pulled away and it made him smile behind his visor. A smile he made sure wasn’t there as he took his helmet off.
“Why are we stopping?”
Gabriel got off the bike and turned. Honor had taken her helmet off, too, her cheeks flushed pink, her inky hair mussed. She smoothed her hair back into place, looking around her as she did so.
“I thought you might like a break from the wind. Plus the store here does a mean hot chocolate.”
Her eyes were very blue in her flushed face, glittering in the snow-bright sun. “How do you know? I hate to say it, but you don’t look like a hot chocolate kind of guy.”
“I stopped here for one on the way from New York. I happen to like it.” Christ, she was lovely, she really was. And she had no idea that the way she sat there on the back of his bike, dressed in tight-fitting black leather, made him hard. Made him want to peel her clothing off and uncover the soft white skin beneath it. “And what kind of guy do you think I am anyway?”
“I think you’d be more at home in a pub with a beer than a rustic store eating maple syrup candy.”
“I am that kind of guy. I’m also the kind of guy that wants to buy hot chocolate on a cold winter’s day for a lovely lady friend.”
Her flush deepened, and he knew that annoyed her because her eyes flickered as she looked away. “I suppose I could have one.”
“Sure you could. I hate drinking alone.”
“As long as I buy my own.”
“You’re going to argue over a couple of dollars?”
“I tell you what,” Honor said, sliding off the bike with slightly less awkwardness than she had getting on. “You let me buy you a hot chocolate. It’s only fair since we’re riding your bike. Not to mention the fact that all this gear I’m wearing is yours.”
“Okay,” he said and watched her face.
Sure enough, surprise flared over it. Clearly she was expecting him to protest. “Oh, well, good. Drinks are on me then.”
“As long as you stop calling me ‘Mr. Woolf.’ Seems stupid, especially after you kissed me.”
She looked away down the street, smoothing her hair again, holding her helmet in one hand. “It wasn’t a real kiss and you know it.”
“Bullshit,” he said softly. “You were trying to get back at me and I understand that, but pretend kisses don’t usually feel like that one did.”
She glanced back at him. “And what did that one feel like?”
He wanted to laugh. Oh, she was good, very good indeed. Pushing the boundaries, confronting him. Giving him back as good as she got. It excited him.
Goddamn, why couldn’t he use their chemistry to his advantage? Especially since she’d just handed him the key to her particular lock on a platter: all he had to do was appeal to the gambler in her, the wildness that lurked under the surface of her skin.
He met her gaze and held it. “It’s hard to put into words. Perhaps I should just show you instead.”
For an instant a blue spark glowed in the depths of her eyes. Then her lashes fell, silky black, hiding her expression. “Oh, I don’t think we need to go that far. Come on, let me buy you a nice hot chocolate. If you’re very lucky I’ll even ask them for extra marshmallows.”
He let her buy the drinks, which they took out into the weak winter sunlight and sat on a park bench beside the lake. Snow was heaped in drifts and it wasn’t exactly the most comfortable place to be, but there was no wind and it was better than listening to the loud music blaring through the store’s speakers.
“So,” Honor said, toying with her drink. “Why the bike ride?”
“Because I hate being cooped up for too long. Plus I like the wilderness out here.”
“But why invite me? I hate to say it, but I’m not much of a wilderness person.”
Gabriel leaned back against the bench, legs outstretched, ankles crossed. “I noticed. If you must know, I thought we got off on the wrong foot initially.”
“That was wholly your fault, not mine. You virtually blackmailed me into coming here.”
“What do you want? Another apology?”
“Will I get one?”
“Fuck, no. That was entirely business-related and when it comes to business I don’t apologize for anything.”
She took another sip of her hot chocolate. She’d taken off her gloves, cupping her hands around the paper cup. Her fingers were slender, pale, and beautifully manicured. Just like everything about her.
“So what about it then?” Honor asked. “If you’re expecting friendship, you’re out of luck.”
“I don’t expect you to be my friend, but I thought that since we’ll be spending a week together we should at least be on speaking terms.”
“A week … yes. That has me a little puzzled, I have to admit. What are you expecting to have happen?”
Gabriel glanced at her. She’d left a good amount of room between them on the bench, sitting slightly angled toward him, a crease between her brows. What did he expect to happen? Guy Tremain’s secrets spilled any way he could get them, that’s what.
And if they’re spilled onto your pillow?
Well, shit. He wouldn’t say no to that either.
“I thought I might talk to you about Alex,” he said.
She paled, her eyes suddenly huge and dark in her face. And for the first time in years, he felt an odd pang of … something in the vicinity of his chest.
“Alex? What—” She broke off and looked away, gripping her cup in her hands. “I’m not sure I want to know.”
Christ, whatever that feeling was, he sure as hell didn’t like it. Ignoring the sensation, Gabriel said softly, “Are you sure about that?”
Honor didn’t reply immediately, her attention turned to the view of the frozen lake. “He left when he was sixteen. Without a word. Just … disappeared. Then every so often we’d see him in the media, at some party or casino. We thought eventually he’d get in touch but … he didn’t.” She raised her cup, took another sip. “Alex didn’t care. And you know what? I don’t think I care about him either.”
“When you say we, you mean…?”
“My mother and I.”
A silence fell.
Gabriel studied her set face. Pale as the snow around them. “He had his reasons. And you’re wrong, he does care.”
“Does he? You’ll forgive me if I’m cynical about whatever those reasons were.”
“He’s kept an eye on you for a number of years, Honor. I know that much.”
“Oh, has he? So, he knows all about how we lost everything after our father shot himself? How Mom basically lived on antidepressants and vodka when he disappeared?” Her voice was cold. “I had to clean her up every night and put her to bed. Not that we had a bed since most of our belongings were repossessed to pay Dad’s gambling debts.” She paused. “I was eight.”
And Alex had been sixteen. Haunted by whatever had happened to him in that underground gambling den his father had dragged him into. He’d never spoken of it to Gabriel, but then Gabriel had known the day he’d found Alex bleeding from the mouth and pale on the sidewalk outside the casino that something had gone down. Something bad.
Gabriel had been a fully patched member of the Angels by that stage and had enlisted a doc used by the club to check his friend out. Alex told him that night that he wasn’t going home ever again. So he’d come to stay in the shitty run-down apartment Gabriel shared with his mother, never saying a word about his family. In fact it wasn’t until the day his mother had turned up with Honor in tow that Gabriel realized he’d even had a sister.
A sister who’d obviously been scarred by what had happened all those years ago.
That strange, slightly painful emotion shifted around in Gabriel’s chest. Guilt maybe. Or sympathy. He ignored it, whatever it was. Anger was the only emotion he’d ever been able to deal with.
“So, you had it hard,” he said. “You’re not the only one.”
She flicked him a glance. “Are we talking about Alex still?”
“Not entirely.”
The cold look on her face faded, curiosity glinting in her eyes now. Which was excellent. Curiosity would only help him when baiting the hook that would draw her in.
“I expect you had a difficult upbringing, too, didn’t you?” she said after a moment. “How exactly did you and Alex meet anyway?”
Difficult question this one, especially as he’d first met Alex at that underground casino. The Lucky Seven, it was called. Patronized almost exclusively by the upper echelons of New York society, there wasn’t only gambling that went on behind its secret doors. Drugs, prostitution. Anything that could be bought, the Lucky Seven sold.
And Honor’s father had dragged his son into it. How much did Honor know about that? She’d mentioned her father’s debts so she obviously knew he’d been a gambler. But did she know Alex used to count cards for him? And if she didn’t, was it really his place to tell her?