Page 51 of Texting the Wrong Bikers

Dash smiles and shakes her hand. “Nice to meet you, Dani, the best friend. I’m Dash.”

“Oh, I already figured that out. You’re exactly like Sadie described.” Dani actually flutters her eyelashes at him. Dani the maneater. If Dash can reduce her to putty, I’m totally screwed.

Dash smiles, mirth dancing in his eyes. “You been talking about me?” he asks me, seemingly delighted by it yet accepting it easily, because, of course, he’s used to women talking about him. His eyes slide slowly down my body. “Cute outfit.”

Heat rushes into my face, but I try to hide it, feigning indifference. “Are you always this shameless?”

He shrugs. “Yes.”

“And honest, too,” Dani interjects, elbowing me.

“Didn’t you want to join the spin class, Dani?” I say through gritted teeth.

For a moment, I worry she won’t take the hint, but she finally gets up. “Fine, don’t say I’m not a good wingwoman,” she whispers. Judging by Dash’s grin, he heard. Dani saunters away, swaying her hips more than usual.

“She’s fun,” Dash says.

“You have no idea,” I mutter, hating the flash of jealousy I feel. Because, of course, Dash would be better with someone like Dani. Childless, carefree, slim, sexy Dani.

“Heard she pointed a gun at Shadow this morning.”

“Yep. I told you guys I didn’t need you to babysit me.”

“She didn’t shoot, so the jury is still out on that.” I can’t tell if Dash is joking or not. Something tells me he’s not. “Mind if I join you?” he asks, sitting down before I agree. Damn, that confidence is annoying. Yet it’s hard not to like Dash, the easy way he takes what he wants, the unapologetic humor.

The next hour somehow becomes the most confusing workout of my life. Dash flirts constantly, relentlessly, and frustratingly; he’s very good at it. Cheesy lines sound sexy coming from him. He says things that would be cringy coming from any other guy, but somehow make me laugh. He’s exactly like he was over text.

He spots me while squatting, saying, “Jesus Christ, sweetheart!” I almost drop the barbell on myself, and he grins with absolutely zero shame.

Later, he steps behind me, helping adjust my form, and the heat of his body at my back sends my entire nervous system into chaos. “Relax,” he murmurs near my ear. “You tense up too much.” My stomach flips violently.

Across the room, Dani watches the entire thing unfold with the delighted expression of a woman observing premium reality television. At one point, she mouths, “I would.”

Unfortunately for me, she’s not the only one who watches from across the room. Tyler’s accusatory gaze bores into the back of my head. But every time I look up, he’s focused on something else, and I start to wonder if I’m imagining things.

I feel guilty for rejecting Tyler and then flirting shamelessly with a guy in front of him, but I can’t seem to stop myself from flirting back. I do it without even meaning to because Dash makes everything feel light, fun, and easy. It’s completely different from Kane’s intensity. Different from Shadow’s quiet watchfulness. And exactly what I need right now after finding the note, after the betrayal and humiliation of discovering I was messaging four bikers by mistake. I’m starting to think the guys chose Dash as my bodyguard on purpose today, like they knew no woman could resist his charms. I try my best to, I really do, but the harder I try not to be charmed by him, the worse it gets.

Every time I start forgetting that I’m still supposed to be furious at them, Dash smiles at me like he already knows I’m losing the battle.

Chapter 14

Chief

It’s been five days since the note showed up under Sadie’s front door. Five days with no new threats, no sightings of anyone lurking around or following her, no obvious threats, somehow that makes me trust the situation less. Experience tells me that whoever left the note is waiting for us to let our guards down.

The clubhouse hums with noise behind us. We’re sitting outside, enjoying the rare dry evening, though storm clouds loom ominously in the distance. Warm evening sunlight spills gold across the yard where kids run through the grass screaming like tiny feral animals.

The clubhouse dog, Moose, tears across the yard after a tennis ball, Owen chases him at full speed, and Dash—grown-ass man that he is—races alongside him. “I surrender!” Dash yells dramatically while Owen attacks his legs with a foam pool noodle.

“You’re under arrest!” Owen screams back.

“For what crime?”

“Being stinky!” Owen shrieks delightedly.

Dash pretends to sniff his armpit, pulling a face. “That’s fair.” Owen falls onto the grass, collapsing in a fit of giggles.

Sadie laughs softly beside me. The sound does something to me, makes me feel things it shouldn’t. I glance toward her automatically. I can’t seem to stop looking at her whenever she’s around. She’s sitting on one of the patio stools with a beer bottle loosely between both hands, long bare legs crossed beneath tiny denim shorts. Sunlight catches warm copper tones in her hair as she watches Owen play, a soft, almost disbelieving expression on her face, like she still can’t quite believe he’s this happy here.