Page 42 of The Price of Love

Before Dimples can respond, Storm says, “So you’re the one riding the Shovelhead?”

“I am.” I brace myself, avoiding eye contact with Storm. I know my bike isn’t much, but she’s mine.

“Hey, that wasn’t an insult,” Storm says.

Dimples raises her hand. “I can vouch for that. She was eyeing it.”

I glance at Storm, not believing she’d see anything in my old bucket of bolts.

“I’m into old bikes,” Storm says. “I still have my old Honda Rebel.”

“A Rebel? Seriously?” I smile.

“Seriously,” Dimples says. “It’s in a place of honor in our damned clubhouse.”

“My old Shovelhead should be in a museum.”

“Where’d you get it?” Storm asks.

“I inherited it from my grandpa. I always had dirt bikes when I was a kid, but I never rode a street bike.”

“How long ago was that?” Dimples asks.

“My grandpa died seven years ago, but I didn’t start riding it until I was thirty—so for two years.”

“Why’d you wait so long?” Storm asks.

“Circumstances.”

Curiosity flashes in Storm’s eyes, and I brace for a question I’m not prepared to answer, but then her expression changes. “How do you handle the overheating? The oil leaks?” Storm asks.

I shrug. “I’ve learned to read her and baby her.”

“You haven’t modified it?”

“Not yet.” And I doubt I will soon since every penny I make is for surviving, the kids, and saving up for a lawyer.

Storm turns abruptly. “Hey, Prospect,” she says. “Number One.”

A striking black woman hustles around the table. “Yes, President.”

Storm throws her arm over the much taller prospect’s shoulder. “She’s handy with a wrench. You can’t believe the magic she works on our bikes. Bring your bike to Black Briar Motors, and we’ll hook you up.”

I smile and nod. “Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind.”

Storm studies me. I’m sure she’s trying to figure out why I’m politely blowing her off. I sense she doesn’t miss much. Her gaze holds me longer than expected.

I’ve been trained to despise the Thorns, and I’m only following Wiz’s orders, so I shouldn’t be enjoying being in Storm’s presence. But I am.

“It’s always the ones you least expect that surprise you,” Storm says.

Shit. Is she on to me?

“I mean. When I was eyeing the bike, never in a million years would I have guessed it’s yours.”

The tension in my shoulders relaxes. “I get that a lot. When the residents at the nursing home where I work find out I ride, I get interesting reactions.”

Dimples smiles. “I can imagine.”