Page 6 of The Biker’s Guilty Pleasur

Grace looked out the window on her bus ride home. Her feet were sore. She thought about how pathetic her life was and she wished there was more. At least she had Bob. At this point, he was the only thing she had to look forward to when going home.

Volunteering definitely helped with the loneliness and gave her some purpose. Sometimes the soup kitchen, but usually the shelter.

Then she remembered the biker. Reaper. That wasn’t even a name.

Even though Gena ranted and raved about him, Grace wasn’t sold. The manager of a shelter should be more vigilant. Bikers were criminals. They shouldn’t be trusted with the most vulnerable. A biker killed her sister. She was gone forever, no second chance. No do-over.

That painful truth tore her family to shreds. Before they died, her parents preached about the dangers of bikers. And it was part of who she was at this point. He may have put on a good show for Gena, but Grace would be much more cautious. With any luck, he’d focus on the Bridgewood shelter again and stay away from her neck of the woods.

Grace got off one stop early and went to the corner store to buy Bob some cat treats. She’d run out a few days ago, and he wasn’t impressed. She’d rather walk the last three blocks home than deal with his cute little disappointed face again.

After a quick shower and a bite to eat, she decided to do some volunteering rather than sit home alone on a Friday night feeling sorry for herself.

She took the bus, even though the shelter wasn’t too far because she was tired of being on her feet. Once she got to the shelter, she’d have enough on her plate. Before her stop, she noticed the same black SUV that had been outside her apartment yesterday, but then again, they all looked alike.

As she stepped off the bus, she saw a big motorcycle, the chrome shining in the late afternoon sun. Her heart sank a bit. A biker shouldn’t be at a shelter. She pulled her purse higher and punched in the security code before entering. And apparently Gena thought it was a great idea to allow a motorcycle club to have the code as well.

Sure enough, the food delivery had arrived, boxes lining the main hallway. Grace had to shimmy her way to the back staff room to sign in.

“Missed you this week,” Helen said.

“Crazy at work. It’ll be like that all summer.”

Helen was another volunteer, probably her mother’s age. She had a severe burn on the side of her face from when she was in her twenties. A jealous boyfriend had thrown acid on her. Everyone had their own reasons for volunteering. They were a little family.

“Anything exciting around here?” she asked.

“We’ve had to beef up security after one of the new admits came in. We weren’t even allowed to prop the door open when bringing in the boxes.”

Grace knew it had to be Heidi.

“Wish I could have come earlier to help.”

“You do enough, little miss. Besides, we’ve barely unpacked a thing.” She winked at Grace and returned to her work.

After signing in, she headed back to the main hall, nearly bumping into that brick house.

“Sorry,” she said, walking around Reaper.

Why was he even there? Why was no one keeping tabs on him?

When she glanced back over her shoulder to see what he was doing, he was on his hands and knees in the same area. She took a step back to get a better look. He was fixing the wonky leg of the bookshelf. Everyone hated how unsteady it was, but no one ever did anything about it.

She started opening the boxes, putting cans in the cupboard, and produce in the fridges. When she struggled to carry a box of canned goods to the kitchen a while later, Reaper took the box from her. He did so with ease, but then again, he was a big guy.

“Thank you,” she said. Grace wanted to add she was perfectly capable of doing it herself, but bit her tongue after last week’s catastrophe.

“You shouldn’t be carrying these heavy things. When I’m here, I’m glad to do it.”

She didn’t say anything because she’d end up arguing.

Gena walked through the kitchen.

“Thanks for the coffee, Reaper. Delicious, as usual,” Gena said, holding up her cup.

She was very anal about her coffee so she must be faking her thank you.

“I didn’t know you’d be here or I would have brought you one.”