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“What? It’s not a secret that I like women.”
“No, but you never talk about them.”
“Hey, expectations are clear going in.” He didn’t go around hurting people. He just didn’t stick around. He put in a lot of effort in making sure that the women he was with felt good and wanted, even for a night.
“I’m not saying you don’t talk to women, or are an asshole. I’m saying you don’t talk about them.”
He faced Ryder. “Don’t go thinking you’re seeing something that isn’t there. I like Autumn.” Christ, he could hear himself getting defensive. “Same as I liked…”
Shit, he didn’t even remember the last time he’d liked a woman beyond the sexual draw. Not since Sydney, he guessed. And look where that had gotten him.
“Sure,” Ryder said sarcastically. “Which is why you can’t finish a damn sentence and are lurking in the corner.”
“I’m not lurking, I’m scouting.”
“Right.” Ryder slapped his back. “Good luck with that, buddy. Especially since your target is retreating.”
Huck’s focus snapped back to where Autumn had been. She was gone. He looked around the room and caught a glimpse of her flowy dress as she left the reception and headed toward the hotel lobby.
Screw it. No way was he letting her out of town without bringing her back to his bed.
He’d seen her return his fuck me eyes. He wasn’t about to ask her for anything else, but one more night? He needed it. Needed to feel her unravel under his touch. Needed to feel her melt on his tongue.
This was his chance to show her that he was fine. Hell, to show himself that he was fine. Better than fine. He could leave. And he would.
Once he’d exhausted her, he’d leave. Like he always did. And the world would make sense again. He’d prove to his own damn self that he wasn’t attached and didn’t have some complex about being ditched.
…
Autumn walked to her motorcycle in the parking lot. Opening her pack on the back, she kicked out of her heels and put on a pair of black leggings and boots. She was ready to hit the road. The wedding and reception had been nice, but she’d also been hit with the stunning realization that she had no one in her life besides Jenna, who was leaving.
Autumn had been forced to stand at the reception like an out of place freak while she tried not to stare at Huck. He seemed to have no problem with staring at her. At one point it had seemed like he was walking towards her, so she’d escaped out the side door and to the parking lot, where she was now ready to leave.
“He’s just trying to rattle me,” she assured herself as she zipped up her pack, slung her leg over her bike, and started it up. The 1965 Indian was the only thing she had left of her grandfather, which made it her most prized possession.
He’d been the one who’d taken care of her when her father wasn’t around, taught her about bikes and cars. The auto shop had been the one place she felt confident, capable, and loved.
He’d died when Autumn was ten.
Since her father hadn’t cared if the shop went into the ground, she’d helped keep the place running from a young age. Anything to keep the memory of her grandfather alive.
And it was gone now.
But the bike was hers—the only thing she could count on, since she’d rebuilt it herself. Her grandfather was the one person who’d given a damn about her, and despite losing everything else, she still had his memory and the skills he’d given her.
Looked like the two wheels and motor she balanced on was her only semblance of home, and it was constantly moving.
She pulled out of the hotel and away from a mass of people and a scene she’d never be a part of, and then she hit the highway, heading toward Diamond, trying not to think about how pathetic it was that her only true sense of stability came from a machine, not a soul.
Chapter Four
“Damn it.” Autumn tugged on the zipper on the back of her dress. She was starting to think this stuck zipper thing was a flaw in all of the dresses.
She’d gotten to Jenna and Colt’s house, put her stuff in the guest room, and attempted to take off the pink thing of death.
Their house was amazing. Spacious, surrounded by land, and just far away from the town and its loud bustle that she could hear the wind blow through the grass and the crickets sing.
Her stomach grumbled. She hadn’t even eaten today. She’d find something later. First she had to get out of the dress. She tugged harder on the zipper. “Come on you. Piece. Of. Shi—”
