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The man is a greedy bastard.
I look at Devil's Tats one last time, wishing I had the balls to start a casual fling with Tats, but knowing he's way out of my league and doesn't even remember our night together. I know it will never happen. I start my truck then pull away from the sidewalk and head home to get ready for work, where Betty will most likely go on and on about how she wishes Tats would settle down, preferably with the employee who just warned me away from him.
She thinks her grandson would be happy with the woman, and she's probably right. I'm too damaged for a relationship; my past two years are proof of that when both boys cheated, accusing me of being closed off. If Tats wants to settle down, then I'm not his girl, I wasn't five years ago, and I'm not now, even if a part of me wants to be.
A few days later, I pull up in front of Tats' shop and notice he's sitting on his Harley waiting for me. I furrow my brows as I switch off the ignition and climb out of the pickup.
He grins at me and nods to the back seat of his bike, saying, "Get on, Shorty. We're heading elsewhere."
I look at the closed shop, then at him in confusion, hoping he'd explain more, but he doesn't. Instead, he grins and raises a brow while crooking his finger at me. Crap…I've never been on the back of a bike before, and I'm certain I've heard somewhere that only someone they see as their forever rides bitch.
Mustn't be true, I guess.
Biting my bottom lip, I grab my bag and strap it diagonally over my shoulder before locking my truck up and heading over to him. I wring my fingers together, and he chuckles, seeing my nervousness, making me playfully scowl at him as he grabs a purple helmet and turns my way, gently placing it on my head.
"Okay, Shorty, it's only a short twenty-minute ride. I won't go too…." He pauses on the helmet strap, halting his words before admitting with a wince, "Yeah, I'll go fast. I won't be able not to."
I grumble, making him laugh as he gently takes my arms, pulling me closer to his bike, admitting, “I would never let anything happen to you. Come on, Vi, where's your sense of adventure?"
I wince and admit, "Probably left when I totaled my daddy's jet-black 1970 Chevrolet Chevelle when I was sixteen."
His eyes widen as he splutters, "Wait, what, I mean, huh…."
I giggle but nod sadly. "My parents were busy with work, and I heard Hell's Girl had released a book, and Ireallywanted that book before it sold out."
He gapes at me. "You totaled a classic for a fucking book?"
I wince again. "Yeah, not one of my finest moments. I honestly thought my dad was going to have a coronary when the Sheriff called him. I swerved to miss a bobcat and didn't see the tree until it was too late, though I did get to wear a rainbow cast on my arm and elbow for six weeks after I broke my bone in two places, which was pretty cool."
He blinks a couple of times as I rock on the heels of my cowgirl boots. I was suddenly happy I wore my jeans as I waited for him to snap out of it.
After about forty seconds of silence, I check my watch before throwing my hands up and growling in frustration, "Okay, I get it, the car was a classic—move on Tats!"
He blinks again and shakes his head, murmuring, "Remind me to keep you away from my 1965 Ford Fairlane." My eyes instantly light up, knowing how nice those cars are but he points at me, firmly stating, "No," making me instantly pout. He just chuckles, patting the seat behind him.
Taking a deep breath, I slowly climb on, stepping on the peg while gripping his shoulders to steady me as he grabs my thigh when I wobble before sitting. Using my thigh, which he still has a hold of, he drags me closer to his back so we're touching, then guides my hands around his waist.
"Alright, Shorty. Keep hold of me tightly, and lean when I do, and make sure to keep your legs away from the pipes. I don't want you burned." He rubs his thumb over my shaking hands before starting his bike up and revving it. My whole body vibrates as I cling onto him tighter as he gently guides the bike backward, then takes off down the road quickly, making me squeal.
A while later—a lot longer than the twenty minutes he said—we're pulling down a dirt path. My grip on Tats has loosened, and I honestly enjoyed the ride. Feeling the wind in my hair, and the scenery going past in a blur was freeing. All my pain evaporated, and there is nothing but me and the wind.
It was perfect.
I look around as the trees start to lessen. His speed dramatically slows before he pulls up next to a two-story, wooden lodge, with a wraparound porch.
I'm instantly mesmerized as I gingerly climb off his bike on my jelly legs.
He chuckles as he takes the helmet off and sees the awestruck look on my face. To the left of the house is a large garage where I can see the outline of the Ford, which I believe is dark green, and to the right, a flipping pond.
I feel like I'm in heaven.
"Tats, this place is amazing…" I whisper in awe.
I feel him move behind me, his arm going around my waist as he gently moves my hair from my neck, his fingers skimming against my skin, sending shivers through me.
He rasps near my ear, "It's something I worked hard for. The club don't know ‘bout it; no one does, except for clients who sign NDAs." I turn in his arms, tilting my head to look at him in confusion. He smiles a little. "The club takes half my profits from the shop. Because of who birthed me, they don't trust me, despite growing up with them and despite my calling Emily ‘Momma.’" He blinks. "I wanted somewhere away from the club. I rented an apartment and saved for a while, and then this place appeared in an ad. It was a fixer-upper, so I got it for a steal. I've spent a few years remodeling it."
I nod, my anger heightening as he gently traces my brows with the tip of his finger while his arm tightens around my waist.
