I Built My Biker Husband a Home, Then Caught Him Naked Beneath His Mistress! novel · Chapter 1 of 24
Chapter 1: The Back Room Door
Ramona brings the keys to the house she built into the clubhouse, finds Boone naked under Tawny in front of the club, locks him out, and hides a positive pregnancy test.
I carried the keys to our new house through my husband's motorcycle clubhouse at noon on a Saturday, and thirty people watched me do it.
The house was finished that morning.
I had framed most of it myself, two years of weekends, on land I paid for in my own name.
His motorcycle sat outside by the door.
In twenty-two years he had never once let our daughter ride on the back of it.
I didn't think about that then.
I thought about the two pink lines on the test in my jacket pocket, and how I was going to tell him over dinner in the new kitchen.
His best friend stepped out from the bar and caught my elbow.
Rusty Cobb was the club's vice president, and he had carried my toolbox up a hundred ladders.
"Ro, hold up. He's in the back on a call with the Austin chapter."
"I'll wait in the doorway."
"Sit. Have a coffee. Give him ten minutes and he'll come out to you."
He smiled and pulled out a stool for me.
It was a kind thing to do.
I noticed that the whole bar had gone quiet, and that nobody would look at my face.
A prospect near the pool table said, "Mrs. Kilgore, I'd really wait."
"Why?"
He looked at the floor.
I set the coffee down, walked down the hall and opened the back-room door.
Boone was on the old leather couch with no clothes on.
A woman was on top of him, and his hands were on her hips and his mouth was on hers.
Her boots were on the floor beside his cut, which hung from the hook on the door.
I had stitched that cut's lining myself the winter we were married.
"Boone?"
He heard me before he saw me.
He jerked his head up, and for one second his face was only fear.
"Ramona? What are you doing here?"
I almost laughed.
"I'm your wife, Boone. I came to find you."
The woman scrambled off him and grabbed his shirt to cover herself.
It was Tawny Dobbs, who poured beer at the Friday parties and called me ma'am.
She was twenty-eight.
Boone stood up and reached for his jeans.
Behind me the hallway had filled with bikers, and at least one of them was holding up a phone.
"How long?" I asked.
He zipped his jeans and said nothing.
"How long have you been sleeping with her?"
"It's complicated."
My voice cracked on the word.
"Complicated? I have been your wife for twenty-three years."
"Ro."
"I raised Faye in a house with one working outlet while you rode off for weekends."
"Ro, listen."
"I waited up every night you were gone, and the one time I show up here, this is what I get?"
Tawny started to cry, which was a nice trick for someone who had just been caught.
"Boone, you said she knew," she whispered.
I looked at him.
He didn't say she was lying.
Rusty put his hand on my shoulder.
"Come on, Ro. Let's not do this in front of the whole club."
That was the second time he had tried to move me along.
I stepped out from under his hand.
The keys were still in my fist.
I held them up so Boone could see them, the silver one for the front door and the brass one for the workshop I had built behind it.
"This is the house I finished today," I said.
"I was going to hand you these tonight."
I worked the front-door key off the ring and dropped the whole thing into his open boot.
"The deed is in my name only. Everything on that land is mine."
"Ro, don't be stupid."
"You have until Sunday night to get your things out."
Somebody in the hall whispered, "Damn."
Boone took a step toward me.
"You're not walking out of here over this."
"Watch me."
I turned around, and the bikers parted.
Nobody said a word.
In the kitchen doorway Birdie Sykes stood with a dish towel in her hands.
She was fifty-eight and had cooked for this club since before I was married.
She looked at me for a long moment and gave me one small nod.
So I stepped out.
I made it to my truck, and then I threw up on the gravel beside the front tire.
When I could stand again I took the test out of my pocket.
Two lines.
Nine years ago I had been told I would not get another one, and I had stopped hoping.
Today it was the only good thing I had left.
Through the clubhouse window I could see Boone pulling on his shirt, and Tawny in the hall already holding his arm.
He didn't know.
I folded the test and put it back in my jacket.
He was never going to hear it from me.
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