AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Can I?” He pointed to the book, and she nodded once. As he turned the pages, his brows rose at the intricate details on the jackets, shirts, and even jeans. A few articles of jewelry displaying the Macha emblem, horse and raven made him whistle. More pages were filled with delicately designed items based off Colorado and Snowshoe. “Damn, girl, these are amazing. You should sell them.”
She sat back and slipped on a pair of pink-tinted sunglasses. “I’ve thought about it, but my clientele in Ireland wouldn’t buy them.”
“Then sell them to Macha. The MC will definitely buy your designs, and I’d bet they’d be okay with a form of partnership.” He pulled out his phone and sent a message to Queenie. His aunt had to see the clothes Isa created. He knew without a doubt they’d be top sellers among the crew. A few designs would even sell well at the ski lodge.
“Maybe.”
He narrowed his eyes. She’d been distant the last week, and he assumed it was because of how she acted after he refused to kiss her. Hell, most of his time aside from Macha duties was spent outside her room in the clubhouse. At first, he’d tried to make conversation with Isa, but the Irish lass wasn’t having any of it. He’d been around enough women to know when they needed space. He’d give it to her even if it meant… longer showers.
The sounds of the MC drifted on the wind as neither of them spoke. Rubble tinkered on a Dodge pickup truck in the garage next door, a prospect power-washed the north side of the clubhouse, and somewhere within the bar, Brewer and his sister were playing a rousing game of pool with Cueball. In all his years as a paramedic, these were the sounds he preferred. He liked the hype of the firehouse, but this felt like a family, sounded like a family.
Snoopy yelled in Spanish from the bar’s back door, the angry words directed toward a prospect he was tossing to the curb.
Doc smirked.Yep, just like a crazy family.The longer he stayed here, the less he wanted to leave.
Isa’s sweet scent tickled his nose, but she wasn’t the only reason. Feeling desired came in all forms. Macha’s desire ran strong. He wanted Isa’s to grip him as well.
He stood, the chair scraping on the concrete. “Let’s go, princess.”
She scrunched her face. “Where?”
“I’m teaching you how to ride.”
“No, thanks.”
He grabbed her hand and tugged lightly. “Come on, it’ll be fun.”
Isa reluctantly let him lead her toward the line of black motorcycles. The sun bounced off the chrome, the scent of wax in the air.
“Hop on.” He pointed to his secondary bike. There was no way he’d trust her with his dad’s old ride yet. “This is Bob.”
She shot him a disgruntled glance. “You named your bike?”
He chuckled. “No, it’s a Harley Street Bob.” Once she mounted the seat, he turned the key. “You know the basic mechanics?”
“No.”
“All right, let’s do this, then.” He straddled the bike behind her and placed her hands on the controls. “Your right hand is the most important. It gives you throttle and brake.” He demonstrated the throttle. “But remember, a little goes a long way. The last thing we need is you popping wheelies.”
“You’re just saying that because you can’t do it.”
“Don’t tempt me, princess.” He grinned and focused on the job and not her flowery scented hair. “Your right hand also controls the front brakes. Just like on a bicycle, if you squeeze too tight, you might go over the handlebars.” He placed his fingers over hers and demonstrated the right amount of pressure. Her skin felt so different under his calluses. Different but sinfully perfect. “Nothing to it.”
“And the rear brake?”
“Your right foot.”
Isa stepped on the foot brake and squeezed the hand brake. “Which one do I use? Both?”
“Nah. It’s like riding a bike. Usually I apply the rear first to decrease speed, then squeeze the front brake to stop completely.” He rested his chin on her shoulder. “But don’t quote me because I don’t always do that.”
Isa turned her head just enough that her lips were inches from his. The slight intake of breath sent his blood pumping. She was so close. If either moved, their lips would collide. If that happened, he’d never want them to separate.
“What now?”
He eased off the back. The next part she needed to do for herself anyhow. “Clutch. That’s the lever just ahead of the left handgrip.”
“I have a manual car at home,” she said, practicing. “This should be a cinch.”
