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“They’re criminals!”
“Like I said, you don’t understand.”
“Yeah, I guess I don’t. There are some things that are right and wrong. Clear as day.”
“Knox is an attorney.”
I frowned. “Yeah. What does that have to do with anything?”
“He’s an attorney. He wears a suit to work. He pays his taxes. By societal standards, he’s a good guy, right?”
“Yes…”
“He’s also a cheater. So, he clearly has his own moral system in place, even though he’s part of polite society.”
My expression softened. “I think I see where you’re going with this.”
“I hoped you would. It’s not so black and white. Life’s not that way.”
I sighed. “It would be easier if it was.”
“Look, I get it. I do. I know what you’re thinking. But imagine the wildest, most passionate, most protective-do anything for you-kind of love. I couldn’t walk away from that. Could you?”
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “It’s not like I’ve felt that way about anyone.”
“Not even the man you were going to marry?”
“Not even him. Maybe that was the problem all along. Well, that and his inability to keep it in his pants.”
“Are we okay?” she asked.
“What? Oh, Rach, of course we’re okay.” I shook my head. “You don’t owe me an explanation. Your life is your life. Your choices are your own. I won’t judge you for them.”
“I know. But we’re friends. And friends are allowed to have opinions that differ from one another. Like I said, I know not everyone understands. And I don’t really care if they do. But out of respect for our history, I’m happy to share my story.”
“Does that mean when you’re ready to date, it’ll be with another biker?”
“I don’t think I’m ready to date,” she said slowly. “But can I admit something to you?”
“Always,” I said, lifting the can of soda to my lips and taking a sip.
“I miss sex.”
I spit the soda out all over the island counter and hastily covered my mouth.
Rach’s peal of laughter echoed throughout the kitchen. She grabbed a dish rag and hastily mopped up the mess I’d made.
“Sorry, I don’t know why that caught me off guard,” I said with a wry grin. “So, you miss sex, huh?”
“A lot,” she admitted. “It was like my entire body shut down for a while. It was all I could do to remember to eat after he died. But I don’t know…about a month ago, it was like I woke up and realized how much I missed it. But I don’t want to date. I just want something physical. I’m not interested in a relationship. I’ve got Cash and my job and my friends. I had my husband. I don’t want another one. But sex? I need that like, pronto. Scratch that itch.”
As someone who was currently scratching an itch myself, I understood. “Any thoughts about who you’d like to scratch the itch with?”
“A few men have made their interests known,” she said slowly.
“Bikers?” I supplied.
She nodded. “But I don’t feel right about it. It’s too close to home, you know? At the same time, vetting a stranger? It’s wild out there. From what I’ve heard anyway.”
