“How about you give me your number andwe can go for a ride again sometime?” he offered with a smile that was broadenough to show his dimple. Why did he have to be a biker of all things?
“I can’t,” I replied quietly, meetinghis intense gaze.
“Boyfriend?” he asked.
I shook my head. “I um…” I muttered asI struggled with how to respond without sounding like a total bitch. I decided thathonesty was the best method. “I don’t date bikers,” I said with a shrug.
His brows rose in amused surprise. “Youdon’t date bikers?” he repeated. “I’ve never seen a girl enjoy being on theback of a bike more, but you don’t date bikers,” he said as he chuckled.
I could feel the blush creep over mycheeks. “That sounds about right,” I admitted. “Thanks again for the ride, itwas nice to meet you,” I replied quickly before I did something really stupid likeagree to see him again.
“Don’t you want to know my last name?”he called as I turned toward my place.
“Nope,” I called back over myshoulder.
I could hear his chuckle over the roarof the engine as he started up the bike. I let myself into my apartment withshaking hands and forced myself not to give him one last glance before he rode off.
“Was that a Harley I heard?” myroommate and best friend, Kat, asked incredulously when I shut the door behindme and leaned against it heavily.
“Yep,” I muttered.
“Oh, this I have to hear,” she saidwith grin.
Kat and I had known each other sinceI’d moved to Nevada eight years ago. She was the only person who knewabsolutely everything about me, including why I had an aversion to bikers.Unfortunately my aversion didn’t mean that I wasn’t attracted to them--thingswould be a hell of a lot easier if it did.
“I need a beer,” I grumbled, droppingmy purse and heading toward the fridge.
Our place was simple but wellmaintained. Despite the somewhat shady neighborhood, our landlord took pride inthe building. Our apartment was on the second floor and faced the street, whichwasn’t great for security, but I’d never felt unsafe. It had an open livingroom with hardwood floors. The whole place had high ceilings and felt airy andopen, which helped during the summer when we stayed inside a lot because of theheat. The kitchen was a simple alley style with dated appliances that by somemiracle continued to work. One of my favorite parts of the kitchen was the barthat we’d furnished with four stools. Instead of using a dining table andchairs, we ate there. Neither one of us cooked a lot or entertained much at ourplace so we didn’t need anything fancy. Both of us had good-sized bedrooms, andwe had a small stone covered patio that was just big enough for the grill wenever used.
Our living situation had always workedperfectly for us. Kat preferred to go out and I preferred to be at home. Butother than our social preferences, we spent the majority of our time together.We even worked together, both as waitresses at the brewery downtown. Ever sinceKat had forced her way into my life with her spitfire-like nature, we never lookedback. We had lived together in various places ever since.
When I left California I’d meant toget farther from home, much farther. But I’d run out of money, and by the timeI had enough to get back on the road I was reluctant to leave Kat. She was mypartner in crime and the best friend I’d ever had. So, I stayed with just onestate line between me and my past life.
I sat heavily on the couch, thankfulto be out of the heat of the day, and told her about my biker run in.
“Damn, I wish I would have peakedthrough the blinds!” she exclaimed when I was done.
I laughed and nodded. “I’m not talkinghim up, he was that hot,” I sighed.
“Damn, too bad,” she muttered. “Well,you can catch a ride with me tonight--we’re working the same shift,” she said,patting my leg while getting up. Kat always knew when to change the subject. Itwas one of the endless things I loved about her.
“Cool, thanks,” I said.
“And, because I’m such an awesome bestfriend, I’ll drive you to get your car tomorrow, too,” Kat said with a grin.
“You’re the best.”
We worked the late shift, and though Ihad more than enough distraction, my mind kept drifting back to Cole. I hurriedfrom table to table taking orders and serving drinks, but my mind was milesaway. No man had ever incited such a physical reaction from me. I found it bothoff-putting and electrifying-- two emotions I wasn’t accustomed to feeling atthe same time. With the latter rarely being felt at all.
“Earth to Scar are you in there?” Katteased as we were driving home, both exhausted and smelling like burgers andbeer. It was one of the pitfalls of the job.
“Shut up,” I grumbled before throwingher a small smile.
“You’ve got biker on the brain,” shesaid as she giggled.
“Do not,” I grumbled.
“Do too, liar.” She laughed before lettingthe subject drop.
