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Anna makes a noise in the back of her throat as the line moves forward a little. “My mom says that's not all they offer for free.”
Kelsey snorts. “Don't you guys remember what happened a couple years ago at that bonfire on the beach?”
“Oh my god, yes. Asher is so hot. I'd let him—”
Engines roar down the block, drowning out whatever she was going to say. I was strangely riveted to a conversation about people I don't even know. Nana Jo used to say that Rosewood could run on gossip if the nearby power plant ever went down.
The closer they got, the louder the engines grew, echoing off the pavement and building like thunderclaps. I twist to the left, searching for the source and expecting to see a fleet of motorcycles in a flying V like those hockey players from that kids movie.
My breath catches at the sight of four bikes cruising down the street, a sea of gleaming chrome and polished black.
The Rosewood Reapers.
3
EVANGELINE
It'slike I conjured them with my thoughts about a car wash. They slow considerably as they get closer, and my heart skips a beat as the two motorcycles in the front swing my way.
Dark jeans, white tees, leather kuttes. They look like they were ripped off the pages of a romance novel.
Jesus, Cora wasn't kidding. All too easily, my mind conjures up images of the men in front of me shirtless, wet, and using those muscles stretching out the cotton in their tees for something entirely different.
The girls in line next to me let out a collective sigh and one of them whispers, “Oh my god.”
Same, sis, same.
My gaze scans the men in front of me, greedily gobbling up every detail to relay to Cora when she gets here. I'm half-tempted to look for her, to make sure I'm not imagining this whole thing in some grief-induced fever-dream.
But then they pause in front of me, dropping their boot-clad feet to the pavement. And I can't pull my gaze away even if I wanted to. It's like they're unlocking some sort of kink I didn't know I had. Something about the coordinated move with the same look.
It's giving mesharing is caringvibes.
I sink my teeth into my bottom lip and try my best to not let my cheeks heat at the dirty thoughts now crowding my brain.
In a move so exact I'm convinced it's practiced, they slowly walk their bikes backward until they're backed into a parking spot across the street. Right in front of The Wild Boar.
“Holy shit, I think they're staring at us,” one of the girls whisper-shouts.
“What if they come over here? I would absolutely die,” Kelsey says.
I let my gaze ping-pong between the two men in the center, waiting to see what they'll do next.
I watch in fascination as the one on the left with tousled dark blond hair says something to the dark-haired guy next to him. They're too far away to hear the exchange, but the brunet shakes his head a few times. The blond guy just smiles at him as he swings his leg over his bike and starts crossing the street.
It's hard to tell behind the black sunglasses, but it feels like his gaze is on me. Or someone very close to me. A quick glance over my shoulder reveals a bored-looking guy in his early twenties, head bent low over his phone and thumbs flying across his screen.
“Oh my god, he's walking over here! I'm going to have a heart attack. You guys better delete my kindle history when I die, okay?” Anna mutters, straightening her dress next to me.
I remember being a bit boy-crazy at their age, so I find their dramatics sort of endearing. I breathe out a quiet chuckle, surprised to realize that I'm curious. It's been a long time since my true curiosity was piqued.
He looks like a man on a mission as he crosses the street without bothering to look both ways. He walks with an air of confidence that borders on cocky. I kind of hate that it works for me. I don't know what it says about me, but I've always been attracted to a man who knows what he wants.
And multiply that attraction by ten if he isn't afraid to go after it.
I try to ignore the heat pooling in my lower belly at the image of him striding toward me with the sun sinking into the horizon behind him. It's nearly impossible, the vision of him is tripping nearly all of my internal wires.
I blink, and it's another face walking toward me like some fucked-up déjà vu, determination etched in every footstep. Shock squeezes my heart for a single, agonizing beat. I've done everything I could to forget that face—forget thatman—for the last eight years.
