“We need to get some volume into that, MeMe. You can’t go around all day with flat hair. What will Allan think?”
Ah yes, Allan. I thought Arlo would be working the bar today, and I’d be able to introduce them before we have lunch and then keep them out of the restaurant for the next two days. But he’s frustratingly not here.
“Um, I don’t think he’s working today.”
Mom’s face falls. “You mean he’s not joining us for lunch?”
She sprays my hair and runs her fingers through it, tugging at the strands. My hair has always been a disappointment to my mother. It’s thin and mousy brown like Dad’s, not the thick almost black tresses that are Mom’s crowning glory.
“No,” I say with finality, ducking my head away from her. “He is not.”
“He’s not what?” A booming voice comes from behind me, and I turn around to find Arlo striding toward us.
He’s dressed in smart black jeans and a tight white t-shirt that hugs his muscles under his Wild Riders MC leather jacket. His hair is slicked back and his beard neatly trimmed so it frames his cheeky grin to perfection.
My mouth drops open, because he’s not dressed for work and he’s not behind the bar.
While I’m wondering what the hell he’s doing striding in looking like my hot date, he marches up to me, slides his arm around my waist, and pulls me to him.
I gasp in surprise, but before I can say anything his mouth is on mine. His lips press against mine while my wide eyes stare into his laughing ones. His tongue flicks between my teeth, and his grip on my waist tightens.
Heat surges through my body. My heart hammers against my rib cage, and a delicious feeling of longing envelops me. My eyes flutter closed and I part my lips, letting his tongue tangle with mine. Our hips bump together, and the heat surging through me feels so damn good. My hand moves to his neck, and my fingers tangle in the hair at the nape of his neck.
Someone coughs, and I remember where we are and what we’re doing.
This is a show kiss in front of my parents, nothing to get carried away about. I pull away quickly, but Arlo won’t let me out of his grasp. He keeps his hand firmly around my waist.
My mother is speechless, and my dad looks like he wants to kill Arlo. Which is something for my mild mannered dad.
“This is, ah, Allan,” I say, pressing my fingers to my lips. They’re swollen and tingling and aching to kiss him again.
Arlo gives me a look at the name, and I dig him in the ribs.
“Hi, I’m Allan,” he says with a grin, holding his hand out to Mom.
“Allan.” Mom finally finds her voice. “So nice to meet you. I’m Debbie and this is Jim.”
Dad reluctantly shakes Arlo’s hand, his gaze darting to where Arlo’s clasping my waist, his hand inches away from my butt.
“It’s nice to finally meet you,” Arlo says, his charming smile already working on my mom. “Maggie’s told me so much about you.”
“She has?” Mom gives a flattered smile, unaware she’s falling under Arlo’s charm.
Dad’s observing him quietly. He’s not going to be won over by a big smile and easy charm. Arlo indicates the vintage bike that Dad was looking at.
“It’s an original Harley, one of the first off the production line.”
Dad raises an eyebrow. He’s impressed, and I relax a little. “She still go?”
“We ride her once a year for the veterans charity run on July 4th.”
They fall into step together talking bikes as Arlo leads everyone across the road to the VIP area where there’s a reserved table. It overlooks the valley below, the view stretching all the way to the next mountain range.
Mom grips my arm and drops her voice to a whisper.
“Oh MeMe, he’s divine.”
My eyes are on Arlo’s butt in the tight jeans walking in front of me.
