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I didn’t watch Trance or Viddy, though; I watched Adeline.
I’d learned a lot about her tonight, and each new thing I learned made me more and more curious as to what made her tick. What made Adeline, Adeline.
Dinner passed in relative swiftness after that, and we were heading out to the parking lot less than an hour after arriving.
Trance offered to drive Viddy straight home, and Viddy accepted.
We’d said our goodbyes before Adeline came to a stop beside my Harley Soft Tail.
“This is really pretty. It reminds me of my dad’s old one.” Adeline said as she ran her hand along the shiny gray paint.
“He didn’t ride ever again?” I asked as I handed her the helmet.
“Yes and no,” she shook her head. “We were never around when he did.”
I’d witnessed quite a few motorcyclists over the years that never rode again after a bad accident. It wasn’t unheard of and didn’t surprise me in the least. After an accident of any type, there comes that time where you get back on just to say you did; but for some, that courage just isn’t there.
I nodded in understanding, and mounted the bike before offering her my hand.
She took it and settled herself against my back, pressing her soft breasts against me, igniting a fire in me that I’d not felt in averylong time.
I hadn’t been aware that a certain something was missing until I saw my best friend get it, making me realize that I needed to get my head on straight or life would pass me right by.
I was thirty-four, and not getting any younger.
I wanted kids. A wife. And a place to call home, not just a house.
I wanted what Sebastian had.
What I’d almost had once.
And with Adeline wrapped around me on the ride home, I felt that, maybe, I could find that with her.
Pulling into the apartment’s lot, I parked the bike in my assigned spot, and shut off the bike before dismounting.
“Jesus, but that seat sucks,” Adeline said as she swung her leg over the bike.
I laughed. “Sorry, girl. It’s only a small pad. You keep riding with me and I’ll see about getting something different.”
“Thanks. I don’t know what the point in having a pad there is. I felt like I was riding on the back wheel. Didn’t notice it so much before when we were looking for my sister, but now I’m feeling it.”
I smirked. “It ain’t called a p-pad for nothing, girl. Seriously, all it’s meant to do is keep your pussy off the fender and not much more. Hence why it’s called the pussy pad.”
Her face flamed when I said pussy, and didn’t stop flaming as she gave me a quick kiss on my cheek and hightailed it up her stairs.
“Night, Kettle!” She called from the top and then entered her apartment, closing it quietly behind her.
It wasn’t until I was in my room shedding my clothes, and hanging up my vest that I realized that she hadn’t asked about my cut.
I knew she had to have noticed that I was wearing it. Hell, her tits had been plastered up against my back the entire time, right up against my colors. It wasn’t as if I was hiding it.
I was proud to be a member of the Dixie Wardens MC. I’d have told her everything I could have if she’d asked, but she hadn’t. She hadn’t given the cut a second glance. She hadn’t stared at it in disgust, as Annalise had. She acted like it was just a part of who I was.
Which made me wonder...was this an okay thing in her book, or was she just that unobservant?
CHAPTER 4
If you don’t understand how a woman could love her sister but also want to kill her, you probably were an only child.
