In one she has her back to the camera, my name on her Property patch the camera’s focus, and the outside edges are just a little blurry. Her face is turned to the side so her profile is visible, and the smile she is giving is the same one I wake up to every morning. God, I love this woman so fucking much.
I don’t know where she had these pictures taken, but whoever the photographer was better have burned the negatives. These need to be locked away for safekeeping so no one but me and my wife will ever see them again. In fact, I’ll do that right now.
I walk right into our closet, open the wall safe I installed just last summer, and set the album inside. Closing the safe, I press the lock button, listen for the beep, then go back to the box for my next envelope.
Five pink hearts.
I have four legs but cannot walk.
A flat top but cannot talk.
I hold pens and papers too,
With a seat that’s just for you.
This one is easy . . . my desk! Man oh, man have we had some fun times in my office. And on my desk. And on the couch. And on the floor. A rolodex of sexy memories rolls through my mind as I go back to the clubhouse again. I wonder why she put these clues in this order? Was it random? Or is she having me go back and forth on purpose? I wouldn’t put that past her at all. She’s funny like that sometimes. But man, do I love her regardless of the hoops she has me jumping through.
Closing the door behind me, I circle around my desk and find just a black envelope with six pink heart stickers. No big gift.
I have a hard shell, but I’m not a nut.
Go find me where you hang your cut.
This could be a couple different places. I have a hook here in my office, but looking at it now, I don’t see an envelope. She must mean hanging it at home. Back to the cabin I go.
There . . . right by the front door, I find a very large brown cardboard square box sitting on the bench below the hooks where we hang our coats and cuts. I know for a fact this wasn’t there when I left the cabin both times before. That means, Duchess must have arranged these clues to have me going back and forth on purpose.
The box is fairly big, like it could fit a basketball, but I know that’s not it. I don’t think I have touched a basketball since highschool gym class. That was way before Duchess and I met, so that can’t be it.
The box is taped shut, so I grab a utility knife from the junk drawer, slice open the tape, and put the knife back. Opening the flaps, I find a matte black, full face motorcycle helmet.
Huh? In the two-and-a-half years we’ve been together, I think I have worn a helmet a maximum of a dozen times, most of those being on long rides with Duchess. What is she saying with this gift? Is this for me or her? Does she want to go on more rides together? I can definitely make that happen once spring rolls around. I love riding my Harley when my woman is on the back, her arms and legs wrapped around me. There is no more powerful feeling than having a handful of throttle powering the Milwaukee muscle that propels us down the road.
Pulling the helmet out, I notice it is the style where you can wear it two different ways—full face with the shield or with the chin front part lifted up so it becomes open faced. It’s a nice helmet, and it looks like it’d fit me, but I am stumped about its meaning.
I guess I’ll have to keep finding clues to find her so I can ask. Envelope number seven is in the bottom of the box.
Go to the spot where your wheels are stored.
Take the helmet with you, I promise you won’t be bored.
This must be the back storage garage where we store our Harleys during the off-season months. I don’t know what Duchess would be doing back there, I don’t think she’s ever beenin that building before, but just like every other clue, I need to keeping moving to find out what it means.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
DUCHESS
I bought my husband a brand new Harley-Davidson motorcycle in February!
When I decided to get this gift for Whiskey for his birthday, I knew it wasn’t the optimal time of year to buy it, but the timing of his birthday isn’t something I have any control over. He was born when he was born. I can’t change that.
As I wait for him to get through all the riddles and clues that will lead him here to me in the back storage garage, where all the Brothers and many paying customers, store their bikes for the winter. After I left the Harley dealership, receipt in hand, I rushed home and found Hammer to ask for his help. Hearranged for the bike to be delivered a few days later, hiding it back here where he knew Whiskey wouldn’t see it, then left the part of surprising my husband with it to me.
So here we are.
I hear the door handle start to turn, so I shrug out of my coat, toss it off to the side, fluff my hair a little, and wait for Whiskey to see me.
Not only do I see the shock in his eyes, and a huge smile on his face, I can feel the happiness radiating from my Old Man.
