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“I care,” I say before Coco can get her feelings hurt.
Walla Walla nods. “I’m glad I wasn’t an only child. My parents might have paid more attention to me, and that would have sucked. Was it difficult for you, Coco?”
“Yes, it was,” she explains, shooting a dark frown at Goose. “It got easier once I became friends with Austen.”
“Because she’s rich?” Goose asks, trying to make Coco uncomfortable.
“No, because she’s Austen.”
I share a smile with my best friend. “This is going so well.”
Coco laughs maniacally while Walla Walla strokes my cheek. Though he probably assumes I’m kidding, I enjoy how we’re able to spend time talking without interruption. These two bikers are less intimidating when I remember they’re real people.
I figure the more I see Walla Walla as a flesh-and-blood man rather than a fantasy, the less I’ll fear him. The perfect guy in my head now feels unattainable.
The real man suffers from insecurities. He wants to protect his heart like I do. This Walla Walla is so much more intoxicating. He’s no longer only an idea in my head, but someone who might be capable of ignoring my worst tendencies and learning to love my best.
MARTIN
Lunch is a disaster. I don’t know what crawled up Goose’s ass, but she acts like a royal bitch. Plus, Coco keeps doing her insane Jekyll-Hyde act, where she swings from submissive to aggressive on a dime.
I get how the two of them are crushing on each other. Yet, having seen Goose successfully flirt before, I’m surprised by how many of her current romantic moves come down to a snarly beast routine.
Austen is the only saving grace during lunch. She keeps asking questions and pushes the conversation forward. I know she hates her food, but she doesn’t complain. Austen even hides how scared she is about leaving Banta City.
The disaster lunch ends up being a good chance for Austen and me to bond. We’re like the patient parents of two unruly teenagers.
After our subpar meal, we return to our vehicles. I don’t let Austen get inside before tasting her lips. My fingers cup her face, enjoying her soft skin. She surprises me by resting her hands against my jaw.
When we part, I smile at how she’s gotten more brazen. That’s why I intend to ramp up our affection tonight to a solid three!
Austen drives the Range Rover in the afternoon. More than once as I ride alongside the vehicle, I catch Austen and Coco singing and laughing. At one point, I think Coco might be crying. Then, I pull up twenty minutes later to find them singing again.
I wish I could talk to Goose and get her to dial down her bitch mode a few notches. She’s not on her period. She slept fine last night. I don’t know why she’s so hostile. She even snapped at me earlier, claiming I breathe too loud.
“Well, I think you breathe too quietly,” I replied, winning an eye roll from her.
On the road, Goose seems more like herself. She loves long rides. The club used to go out together every Sunday and ride around the Valley and to neighboring towns. We suffered and bled to get to the top. Those rides were victory parades.
Over time, everyone got busy with stuff. The Sunday thing stopped. However, Goose and I still ride around together a lot. I’m hoping hours on the road today will chill her out.
Instead, she’s just as cranky when we arrive at the hotel for the night. After dropping off Austen and Coco at their room next door, we retreat to our adjoining one. Goose stomps her way inside and tosses her bag on a chair.
“I’m going to kill that woman,” Goose hisses and drops onto the queen-sized bed near the window. “Probably with a pillow.”
“Wait, what is this thing you’re doing?” I ask while settling onto the other bed. “I’ve seen you horny before, and this ain’t that. So, what am I witnessing here?”
“I hate her.”
“No.”
Shrugging, Goose mutters, “Well, I hate parts of her.”
“Not her tits, though, right?”
Goose narrows her gaze until I think she might be sleeping sitting up. Then, she shrugs again. “She’s got a nice body.”
“How would you rate her head?”
