Three months later . . .

My living room looked more like a Skittles factory had exploded than it did an actual apartment. With fabric in every color strewn throughout, I was working on another rush job of bridesmaid dresses, trying to catch up on work after the accident.

Why did bridesmaids wait until the week before the wedding to try on their dresses? I understood not wanting to put it on since the dress was god-awful, but someone needed to remind these bridesmaids that looking as if the dress were painted on their asses wasn’t gonna do that atrocious fabric any favors. There was only so much seam I could let out.

My phone dinged to alert me of a text message. I plucked it out of my pocket and read.

Stella: Hey, bitch, we’re going out tonight.

Me: Can’t, I’m swamped.

Stella: And you’ll still be swamped tomorrow. Pick you up at four.

That was in an hour.

Me: Not ready.

Stella: Get ready.

Me: Where?

Stella: Harley. Band, food, men.

Me: Not looking for a man.

Stella: Not man. MEN!!! Lots and lots. Ciao.

Laughing at Stella’s one-track brain, I moved my foot to the pedal of my sewing machine and went back to work. During the two fucking days in ORMC after the attack, Stella and I went from acquaintances to friends. Like me, she loved riding, had a rocking sense of humor, loved all things leather, and was raised by a single mom. Our difference in the last one was that she still saw her dad after her parents split.

I finished the seam I’d been working on and started to shut everything down. One thing I’d learned about Stella was that she was never late, so when she said four, she meant four.

I was just dabbing concealer on the light pink scar that ran across my forehead when three sharp knocks sounded at my front door. When I pulled it open, Stella was standing there with a huge smile. She fit every description of a blonde bombshell, the hair, the blue eyes, the boobs, the hourglass figure, and the gorgeous smile. That was until she opened her mouth. When she spoke, she fit every description of a sailor or a truck driver. Stella was rocking the biker babe look.

“Is this all right?” I asked, looking down at my jeans, T-shirt, and cowboy boots. Biker chic wasn’t in my closet, urban cowgirl? Yes. Rhinestone cowgirl? Yes. Midnight cowboy was probably as close as I got to the total biker look. Not wanting to get eaten alive by the state bird of Florida, I decided to wear a light-weight long-sleeve T-shirt. My auburn hair was down in long bouncy waves, which may or may not hold up in the humidity.

“You’re a walking wet dream. If you don’t get laid tonight, I might have to do you myself.”

“Oh, you say the sweetest things.” Laughing at her words, I leaned over and grabbed my keys to lock up. Stella only slightly raised an eyebrow as I pressed a piece of Scotch tape between the door and the frame. It wasn’t obvious to the casual observer unless you knew where to look. But to me, that tiny piece of narrow tape acted as a security alarm. If I came home to a broken or bent piece of tape, then that meant someone other than me had opened my door. The police hadn’t found my attackers, so I decided to get creative with my security system.

“Do you usually go to these events?” I asked as I climbed on my bright red Sportster, and she climbed on to her gold one.

“If I have the night off. But I requested tonight off. This one is for the Orange County Sheriff’s Department. I told you about my brother, Carter, right?” Stella asked.

“The deputy?”

“Yup. Well, three deputies were killed earlier this year by a crazy motherfucker, I’m sure you heard about it, it was all over the news. All proceeds from tonight are going to the widow of one of the deputies who just so happened to work with my brother and Kayson Christakos as a motorcycle deputy, he was their sergeant.”

“Let’s not mention that name. Remember, he never showed up to the hospital, and I let you put all that shit on me even though it hurt like hell when you rubbed it on.”

“I’m telling you, there had to be a good reason.” Stella’s defense of all things cop was biased in my opinion.

We strapped on our helmets and headed out to support the worthy cause. On my bike, I forgot about my fears: who attacked me, why they’d attacked me, and why it seemed to come out of nowhere. I wished that I could remember this feeling when I faced the daunting task of walking to my bike alone. But no, it took Stella being with me to give me the assurance that I needed.

Warm sunrays kissed my cheeks as I squeezed the clutch, shifted gears, and turned the throttle. Within seconds, the wind shook loose strands of hair from underneath my helmet, and I felt the stress start to ease. The ride was short but worth every second, and when we pulled into the parking lot of the Harley dealership, the scent of Bubbalou’s Bodacious Bar-B-Que hit me.

Finding a spot to park was almost impossible. Cruisers and police bikes were mixed with regular partygoers, so we cut left and headed to the employee parking lot. Like all biker women, we had our priorities. First things first, we ripped off our helmets and attempted to resurrect our hair, but helmet head was its own hairstyle.

“Yo, Stella!” someone shouted.

I turned to face two women walking toward us. One looked as if she were a regular at these types of events, worn and faded jeans, Harley T-shirt, and black combat-style bike boots. The other woman had strawberry blonde hair and seemed to be in great shape, which was mostly hidden under a thick Kevlar vest and a God-awful polyester sheriff’s uniform. Why law enforcement agencies hadn’t switched from those uniforms to BDU’s like the military or jeans was beyond me. They should save the seventies fabric for formal occasions like the military does.

“Yo, bitches!” Stella hollered back. “Ariel, that is Leo. She’s a mechanic here at Harley, and that’s Piper, she works with my brother.”

“Hi!” I pasted on a giant smile and shook both their hands, and Leo turned to Stella.

“Speaking of your brother. We need to go find him. I just finished adjusting his clutch cable.”

“He should already be inside.” She gestured to the open gates, and we all headed that way. I hadn’t met her brother, but I’d heard enough stories about him to know that he was just like Stella, and I couldn’t wait to put a face with the name. Then the four of us moved toward the gates, passing a stage and a large black-and-orange tent for food and alcohol set up with several tables and chairs on the way.

“I need a drink.” I groaned, wondering if they would let me detour to the bar.

“Shut up,” Piper said with a smirk. “I’m on duty.”

The officer, who was standing just outside the gate collecting money, nodded his agreement, and Piper sidled up next to him as I pulled my wallet out.

“Is there a cover charge?” I asked.

“Nope. Just donation.” Stella dropped in a twenty.

I happily followed her lead.

On the inside of the gate, rows of new motorcycles were lining the walkway. It was like candy cane lane, all shiny and tempting. I didn’t need a new bike, but like most people, I would walk over there and check out the gorgeous machinery.

“How many bikes do you own?” I asked Leo.

“Two. A Sportster and a Low Boy.”

I turned to Piper. “You ride?”

“Yeah. And I’m hoping to start riding a lot more. There’s an opening in motors, so I’m going to interview for the position.” The excitement in her voice was unmistakable. “But I’m not holding my breath. They’ve never had a female.”

I pointed at my temple, “You’ll get it. I’m psycho that way.”

She laughed. “You mean psychic.”

“Either or.”

She let out a laugh, and I decided right then that I liked Piper. She was the yin to Stella’s yang. Her personality seemed opposite of Stella’s, which was larger than life. Piper was calming, and I could picture her being the one called in if someone needed to be talked off a bridge.

“We can all start riding together,” I said, hoping they’d agree since it would help me get out of my apartment.

“Great idea.” Stella swung out her arms and announced. “All girls’ biker club.”

“That’s not a bad idea. My boss wants to get more women involved.” Leo gestured toward the Harley building as if her boss was still inside. “We could start a ladies’ club and go for rides. We could even have some classes. I could show you how to do some basic servicing on your bike.”

“I could teach some defensive maneuvers,” Piper added.

“I can make patches or vests for the club. Sorry, sewing and event planning are my only talents.”

“The bathroom wall said that you had way more talent than that.” Stella’s wit was quick, but laughter garbled her words. “Truthfully, though, since I’m a nurse, I could put together some small first aid kits.”

“We can do this, we can so have a biker’s club,” I said.

“We got ourselves a gang. Now, we just need a name,” Stella added.

“Not a gang,” Leo, Piper, and I all said in unison, and Stella gave us all an annoyed look.

I missed having friends, people to do things with, I’d lost too much of my life over the last ten years. I needed friends, lots of friends.

Up until my senior year I had a small group of friends, hell I even had a boyfriend. But after Mama’s second stroke, they were busy going to football games, out on Friday nights, and to school dances.

The girls and I walked past a few vendor trucks that were selling patches for vests and lights for bikes before heading under the tent. I looked up at the sky, this was my favorite time of day, late afternoon when the sun still shone as if it had no intention of going down. It wasn’t sweltering hot, but there wasn’t that oppressive heat, either. By the time I headed home, it would be cool, especially on the bike at sixty miles per hour.

The band was already on stage and playing a mix of soul, rock, and country. A few women swayed to the music, but no one was dancing, which was a shame. I loved to dance. That was when I spotted them.

“Holy shit, look at all those men in uniform. I’ve hit nirvana.” I announced, admiring the well-built bodies in different outfits and gear. “Why are some in regular uniforms but you’re in full gear?”

“Since this is a law enforcement charity event, the brotherhood comes out in full force.”

“Brotherhood? Not a lot of sisters?” I wasn’t trying to preach feminism, but if we could learn to stop calling flight attendants “stewardesses”, then we could stop calling things the brotherhood.

“I work with several women. It’s just always been called the brotherhood, and since they’re like my brothers, I’ve never been offended.”

I hated it when people made sense. I saw her point, and since I wasn’t a deputy, maybe I should mind my own damn business. I could hear my mama’s admonishment. “Aren’t you a little Miss Busy Body? Got anyone else’s business you want to get into?”

“It’s wonderful. It’s like FAO Schwartz for grown-ups,” Stella whispered. “Except for that one.” She pointed to a man, but all I noticed was the back of his blond head. He was with several other guys, who were all wearing dark green shirts that had OCSO on the back. “Thinking of him like that is just, blah-gag.” She shook her head as if trying to erase the thought from her brain.

“Your brother?”

As confirmation, Stella took off running and jumped on the man’s back. “Hey, bro.”

“Hey, spider monkey. Where’d you come from?” Stella’s brother had a deep voice full of brotherly humor. He turned as he shook his shoulders, trying to extricate himself from her grip.

Some of the men resembled linebackers, but others were lean, yet muscular at the same time. Where were all the doughnut-eating cops? The ones they show in movies and on COPS? These guys looked like Dolce and Gabbana models bred with Seal Team Six to have a bunch of love children. They were hot. I take that back—they were so gorgeous that they were erotic. I felt as if at any moment someone was going to tap me on the shoulder and ask, “Was it good for you?” And of course, the answer would be yes. A resounding yes.

“I want you to meet someone,” Stella said to Carter, but in her usual loud fashion she caught everyone’s attention, and they turned their gazes to me.

Spending almost half of my life secluded with just my mama, I was uncomfortable with the stares, but I tried to smile through it. I held my hand out to Carter, it was shaking, but I didn’t have time to hope no one would notice before another voice cut in.

“Ariel?” My eyes darted left to the man who had spoken.

He had my attention even though he butchered my name. A smile spread across his face as if he knew me, and my stomach fluttered with a remembrance that clung to the outside of my memory. He resembled Theo James with the same golden-brown hair, chocolate eyes, and sun-kissed olive skin.

“It’s R-E-L, not Ariel. Sounds just like you are saying the initials for Robert E. Lee. You know, rebel leader and all that,” I repeated the same line I had heard my mama say when she corrected people on how to pronounce my name. But for some strange reason, when I did this, my voice became twangy. Or maybe that was twangier?

Several people gawked, but no one interrupted or even bothered to introduce themselves. Everyone focused on the Theo James look-a-like man moving toward me.

“How are you?” he asked, taking a step into my personal space.

“Fine?” My answer sounded more like a question as I stepped back. “Do I know you?”

“Yeah. Well, sort of. I’m Deputy Kayson Christakos.”

Mother nature could have opened the gates of hell with thunder and lightning, and I wouldn’t have heard another damn thing. Because when he said his name, the only thing I saw were stars, no a star. A single star.

I raised my hand in front of me to stop him from saying another word while I absorbed the fact this man was my rescuer. Him. Standing in front of me was the man who prevented those two guys from taking me. He quite possibly saved my life that day, and the magnitude of that threatened to drag me under.

Wrapping my arms around my stomach in a tight hug, I tried to find strength to do what needed to be done. I had prepared myself for this moment while I was still in the hospital. I’d had a thank you speech prepared. Every word had been chosen with care. Standing there in front of him . . . knowing he was flesh and blood and more handsome than my memory told me he was, my words were gone.

In between deep swallows, I managed to utter, “Thank you. Thank you. I don’t know how I can ever thank you.”

“I’m glad I was there,” he assured me. “You’re shaking, why don’t you sit down.” I nodded and let him guide me to the nearest table. The heat of his hand on my lower back was nothing but a soft hum of comfort and safety, and I couldn’t remember another time a simple touch had felt like that. The others followed close behind as witnesses to my freak out in front of this gorgeous man, but I couldn’t think about that. All I could think about was the man next to me.

Someone set a few bottles of beer in front of me. I wasn’t sure who, but I appreciated it. I took a long pull of the Yuengling, and a few deep breaths later, my head stopped spinning enough for me to look at Kayson, who had taken a seat across from me. He was built like a brick shit-house. Being from Alabama, I knew football, and Kayson had the body of a running back, muscular but not engineered with testosterone injections.

“I can’t believe you’re here. How are you feeling?”

“Better.” I lifted my bangs to show him my forehead and the scar, the worst of my evidence. “The plastic surgeon assured me that in no time it’ll hardly be noticeable, I’m still waiting.”

“I wouldn’t have noticed it now unless you pointed it out.” Kayson took a swig from his bottle of water. “Just you and Stella come?”

“Yeah. She forced me since I don’t get out very often. I’m still jumpy after the attack,” I explained.

“I can understand your fear, but I’m glad you came.” The silence was heavy with all the things I wanted to say, but I didn’t know where to start. I bit the corner of my lip as I looked to where his legs were stretched out, bracketing mine, and then took a deep breath.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“I met your brother while I was in the hospital, and he mentioned that you might come up, did I miss you?” I tried to ask my question without sounding as though I had been anxiously awaiting his visit.

“I came up but you, umm, you had a visitor,” he explained. “Well, it sounded like you were in the middle of something. I didn’t want to interrupt.”

Besides his brother and Stella, I only had one other visitor: Brandon. After moving to Orlando, I dated him for a few months. It hadn’t ended well, and when he had shown up at the hospital, I had been shocked and annoyed. When I had broken things off with Brandon, I thought I had made it clear that I wanted nothing to do with him anymore.

“I wish you would have interrupted. It was just a guy I dated for a few months who thinks he is God’s gift to women.” I could still hear his words, and they grated on my nerves, he was a douche. Sure, he visited me in the hospital, but that didn’t change how I felt about him.

“He’s that cocky?”

“Ugh, don’t even get me started. Do you know why he was at the hospital? To tell me that I should move in with him because I obviously can’t take care of myself. Like getting attacked was somehow my fault. I mean, really? This asshole lied and cheated on me.” I heaved a heavy sigh and pinched my lips together. Kayson didn’t need to hear about my pathetic dating background I looked up and saw a smirk on his face. “What?” But I already knew what. Just thinking about Brandon and the way he had told me the world was too dangerous for a single woman had me seething.

“Nothing, Tiger.” Kayson held up both hands in a gesture of surrender.

For the first time, I noticed Kayson’s badge on his belt. I wanted to reach out and touch it, trace the star that had haunted my memory, but that would probably make me seem like a pervert or get me in handcuffs. The latter of which wasn’t such a bad idea. It had been way too long since I’d had sex. I moved my hands under my thighs and sat on them to keep myself from doing something stupid. Like reaching out and running my hand up his thigh to the bulge in his pants.

I looked up and met his gaze. Fuck, the man was smirking again.

I cleared my throat. “I remember seeing your star badge during the accident.”

“You do? What else do you remember?”

“Not much, just that there were two guys. I remember trying to fight them off and the smell. My goodness, one of them smelled so bad that I don’t think I’ll ever forget it. Everything else is blank space and panic.”

“Yo, man of the hour.” Stella squatted between Kayson and me, resting a hand on each of our knees. “I think you’d better go over and give your home fries the four-one-one on my girl here. They are acting like a bunch of teenagers trying to figure out what the two of you are talking about.”

Both Kayson and I glanced in the direction Stella had indicated, and sure enough, there was a group of guys pretending not to watch us.

“Excuse me, I’ll be right back,” Kayson said as he stood and left the table. I watched him walk away, admiring the wide breadth of his shoulders and how his jeans hugged his nice firm ass.

“Fuck, you have the best luck in the world. Seriously? He’s hot.”

“Luck? I met him because some guys decided to beat the crap out of me.”

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it. That man couldn’t take his eyes off you. I got hot just watching him look at you.”

I narrowed my eyes at her. “What do you mean?”

“Girl, you can’t be that clueless. When he saw you . . .” Stella lowered her chin and puffed out her chest. “He went all, me Tarzan, she Jane, no one else can talk to her, I’m staking my claim.”

I turned to find him, doubtful that she’d read the situation correctly. Kayson didn’t seem overly excited about meeting me. Running into someone he’d helped was probably something that happened to him all the time. When I finally spotted him, our eyes locked, but I looked away and my attention landed on a group of women trying to mingle with the guys Kayson was talking to.

“Ignore them.” Stella grabbed my hand in hers. “They’re badge bunnies. And the brunette is Gigi, queen whore, I mean hopper.”

But I couldn’t ignore them or him for that matter. Maybe it was because by that point, the number of beers I had drunk were equal to the number of women surrounding him.

Every time I raised my eyes, they flicked in his direction. Every time they did, he was still gazing at me. The girls were gorgeous and they all seemed comfortable around the deputies including Kayson, and as much as I hated to admit it, I felt a little possessive. Maybe I had staked as much of a claim on him as Stella thought he’d staked on me. The part of myself that was telling me that saving me was just part of his job wasn’t loud enough to drown out the part that wanted him.

With a last name like Christakos, and olive skin, the man had to be Greek. I made a mental note to add “Sexy Greek Men” to my searches on Tumblr.

“Did you get a chance to meet everyone?” A deep voice asked from behind me. I hadn’t noticed that he had moved while I was lost in thoughts of Tumblr porn.

“No.”

“Max and Aiden are motors along with Carter and me.” He pointed out two men standing near Stella’s brother. “That’s Eli. He’s with DOJ, Special Response Team.” Kayson pointed to another guy and said DOJ as if that meant something to me, but I was clueless.

He moved around to my front and kneeled at my side. Resting one hand on mine, he stretched across me to pick up his bottle of water, leaning in closer to me as he did so.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered so only I could hear. “I’ve thought about you. How you were doing and all that. I wanted to contact you, but I was worried that you had a boyfriend or you might think I was a stalker. Fuck. Sorry. I must sound like an idiot. Let me start over, you’re gorgeous, and I’m just happy to see you out and about.”

My head was spinning from a combination of the drinks and his words and actions, he was saying all the sweet things any woman would want to hear, including me. He was also too good-looking for his own good, and I wasn’t the only one who felt that way.

Just over Kayson’s shoulder, I could see Gigi watching us through narrowed eyes. The saying “If looks could kill” seemed too passive. Maybe, if there were a saying more along the lines of “If looks could cut a bitch, piss down her throat, and burn down her house,” then yes, that was the look she gave me.

Everything in me told me she was staking her own claim on this man, and I didn’t want to draw a line in the sand, so I hastily stood and offered, “Thank you, and thank you for the drinks. I appreciate everything you’ve done for me. I really do.”

He stood with me and took a tiny step closer. “Don’t leave. Let’s go over there and sit away from the stage. It’s quieter.” Kayson tilted his head toward the far side of the tent.

“Don’t think your girlfriend would like that. She seems the jealous sort.”

I cast my eyes over to where the badge bunnies stood, and Gigi was still burning me with her resting bitch face. Kayson didn’t get a chance to respond because the steel guitar rang out with the first few notes of “Sweet Home Alabama” by Lynyrd Skynyrd. I think anyone from that state could sing the lyrics before they knew their own name.

My smile was bright as I swung it to Stella and Leo. “Let’s go,” I yelled, grabbing their hands and pulling them to the front of the stage area, not caring if they could or even wanted to dance with me. I had four beers in me, the right song playing, and friends, what could be better?

I moved in line, matching the beat. “Grapevine, cha cha,” I shouted as I crossed my legs and moved my feet with the rhythm so that Leo and Stella could follow the line moves. As we danced, we sang—or more accurately, shouted the words at the top of our lungs.

“Are you going home with him?” Stella asked.

“No. I’m someone he rescued, just part of the job.”

“Yeah right, maybe if he’s playing naughty policeman and the nightstick.” Stella squeezed my arms and spun me, forcing me out of sync with the line dance so I was facing Kayson. “See what I mean?” she asked. “That man can’t take his eyes off you.”

“Not looking for anything serious.”

“Girl, that man is seriously hot and could probably do some serious shit with his body.”

I smiled at him. He gave me that guy smile.

“How do guys make a smile look so seductive? You know, where they slightly raise just one corner of their mouth as if they have a secret and you’re dying to know it?”

My eyes never left his lips and I ended up missing a whole chain of step transitions.

“Shake it, baby, make that man forget that there’s another woman in this entire place,” Stella’s order pulled my stare away from Kayson and back to the music.

When the song ended and the next began, Leo and Stella returned to the group. But I remained on the floor with my eyes focused on the man to their left that hadn’t taken his eyes off me, he moved slowly toward me. The first notes lulled in the air, pulling at my heart to keep dancing. I forgot about everyone else around me and let the music ebb through my muscles, bones, soul. It flowed through me, bending me to its beats. Captivated by the lights in the darkening summer sky, I stared up and twirled as the singer’s gravelly voice sang “Kiss Me” by Ed Sheeran.

At that moment, I felt on fire, sexual, beautiful. The cadence of the song was like making love; each beat matched the pounding of a stroke. My hips swayed to the timing of the meter. The timbre of his voice reached my core. When I dreamed of being loved, this was what it felt like. I imagined just once in my life that I was enough for someone.

Dropping my head, I felt the tempo build one last time and reach its peak. Echoing pulses faded, the song ended, and I was surrounded.

Not by a ton of people, but by one tall Greek man, concentrating on my lips, as he moved with me. His hand cupping my chin as his thumb brushed against my cheek. I wanted to close my eyes, but I didn’t dare look away. I wanted to make sure that he heard, truly heard the words to that song and was going to do what it said and kiss me.

It started in his eyes, the way he looked at me, the slight quiver at the corner of his lips. That was when I knew he’d heard every word.

He leaned in, his face close to mine, I felt the warmth from his breath as he whispered, “I don’t have a girlfriend, at least not yet.” With one finger under my chin tipping my face up until our mouths were almost touching. “I’m going to kiss you now.”

There was no time for words, but for a brief—and I mean brief—moment, I thought about pulling back. Kayson could be very dangerous for my heart and that scared me.

His lips were soft, the kiss deep, and for the second time since I met him, I saw stars.