Saving Glory (Hells Saints Motorcycle Club Book 4) by Paula Marinaro Page B
Authors: Paula Marinaro
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roast, and at the little butcher shop on the corner of West and Williams to stock up on cold cuts for the brothers’ Saturday meeting.
Glory figured if she could avoid the compound and his regular haunts in town long enough, when they finally did run into each other it would be less awkward. She realized it was probably faulty reasoning on her part. But it gave her a small measure of comfort to think that her readjustment to life in Crownsmount would not have to be made more complex by a chance meeting in with her former—whatever he was.
Whatever he was? Glory pondered for a moment. The easy answer to a very complex question would be that Jules Bonny was the most infuriating and complicated man she had ever met in her life.
If life was at all fair, Jules would look exactly what Glory knew him to be. A stiff, unyielding man whose ideas concerning a women’s role dated back to the 1950s. He should be sporting a three piece suit, wing-tipped shoes and a dab of Brylcreem in his slicked back hair. He should be greeted after work by a wife, wearing an apron over her shirtwaist dress, holding a martini in one hand and his pipe and slippers in the other.
If life was fair at all, a man like Jules Bonny should come with a warning for an independent minded woman like Glory Thomas.
He should not be tall or muscle bound. He should not be sporting lots of black ink on his strong arms, leather coverings on his muscular thighs or long blond hair that just screamed Viking god. He should not be an officer in an outlaw motorcycle club. One with international criminal affiliations.
He should not be her perfect—absolutely perfect—counterpart in bed.
But to be fair, Jules never tried to hide who he was from Glory. He was a strong man with strong opinions who spoke his mind. As a matter of fact, the more ridiculous and oppositional his views of the world were, the louder he liked to voice them. In short, Jules loved nothing better than a good argument, a good time in bed and a good meal.
And at one time Glory had been happy to provide him with all three.
It was all good between them.
Until it wasn’t.
*****
Jules was just finishing up polishing up the chrome on his bike when he heard the loud knocking of a car engine that needed servicing. He turned to see a small Toyota wheezing up the hill to the compound.
He recognized the car as the old beater that had pretty much done nothing but sit in the driveway of the lake house for the past couple of weeks. Not that Jules had gone out of his way to check on Glory's comings and goings. It wasn’t like that at all.
Sure, it fucking was.
Despite his best effort to clamp down on his feelings in all matters concerning Glory Thomas, Jules felt a stab of disappointment when he saw Hal and not his sister emerge from that car.
Now he lifted an eyebrow in surprise. Except for that first initial welcome home drive-by, no one in the club had seen the Marine since his arrival. But Prosper had told the boys about the thanks that Hal had extended to the club. Jules also knew from overhearing the women talk that Glory had been in touch with her girls but only barely.
Jules got that.
He knew that Hal probably needed a minute. And he knew that Glory probably needed that too.
And shit, while he was at it, he might as well put himself on the list.
Because he really wasn’t sure how he felt about Glory being back. He only knew that he couldn’t stop thinking about Glory being back.
As Hal had stepped out of the car Jules’s eyes automatically scanned him for signs of injuries. His first thought was that Hal looked okay for the hell he had been through. His back was straight, his muscle tone still kicked ass and even though he walked with a slight limp, Hal’s gait was strong and his foot didn’t drag behind him.
That was good.
Real good.
But when Hal turned around and gave Jules a full view of his face, Jules, who prided himself on being a stoic motherfucker, was glad he had his sun
Glory figured if she could avoid the compound and his regular haunts in town long enough, when they finally did run into each other it would be less awkward. She realized it was probably faulty reasoning on her part. But it gave her a small measure of comfort to think that her readjustment to life in Crownsmount would not have to be made more complex by a chance meeting in with her former—whatever he was.
Whatever he was? Glory pondered for a moment. The easy answer to a very complex question would be that Jules Bonny was the most infuriating and complicated man she had ever met in her life.
If life was at all fair, Jules would look exactly what Glory knew him to be. A stiff, unyielding man whose ideas concerning a women’s role dated back to the 1950s. He should be sporting a three piece suit, wing-tipped shoes and a dab of Brylcreem in his slicked back hair. He should be greeted after work by a wife, wearing an apron over her shirtwaist dress, holding a martini in one hand and his pipe and slippers in the other.
If life was fair at all, a man like Jules Bonny should come with a warning for an independent minded woman like Glory Thomas.
He should not be tall or muscle bound. He should not be sporting lots of black ink on his strong arms, leather coverings on his muscular thighs or long blond hair that just screamed Viking god. He should not be an officer in an outlaw motorcycle club. One with international criminal affiliations.
He should not be her perfect—absolutely perfect—counterpart in bed.
But to be fair, Jules never tried to hide who he was from Glory. He was a strong man with strong opinions who spoke his mind. As a matter of fact, the more ridiculous and oppositional his views of the world were, the louder he liked to voice them. In short, Jules loved nothing better than a good argument, a good time in bed and a good meal.
And at one time Glory had been happy to provide him with all three.
It was all good between them.
Until it wasn’t.
*****
Jules was just finishing up polishing up the chrome on his bike when he heard the loud knocking of a car engine that needed servicing. He turned to see a small Toyota wheezing up the hill to the compound.
He recognized the car as the old beater that had pretty much done nothing but sit in the driveway of the lake house for the past couple of weeks. Not that Jules had gone out of his way to check on Glory's comings and goings. It wasn’t like that at all.
Sure, it fucking was.
Despite his best effort to clamp down on his feelings in all matters concerning Glory Thomas, Jules felt a stab of disappointment when he saw Hal and not his sister emerge from that car.
Now he lifted an eyebrow in surprise. Except for that first initial welcome home drive-by, no one in the club had seen the Marine since his arrival. But Prosper had told the boys about the thanks that Hal had extended to the club. Jules also knew from overhearing the women talk that Glory had been in touch with her girls but only barely.
Jules got that.
He knew that Hal probably needed a minute. And he knew that Glory probably needed that too.
And shit, while he was at it, he might as well put himself on the list.
Because he really wasn’t sure how he felt about Glory being back. He only knew that he couldn’t stop thinking about Glory being back.
As Hal had stepped out of the car Jules’s eyes automatically scanned him for signs of injuries. His first thought was that Hal looked okay for the hell he had been through. His back was straight, his muscle tone still kicked ass and even though he walked with a slight limp, Hal’s gait was strong and his foot didn’t drag behind him.
That was good.
Real good.
But when Hal turned around and gave Jules a full view of his face, Jules, who prided himself on being a stoic motherfucker, was glad he had his sun
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