Amanda caught sight of him the moment he entered the bar. He wasn’t one of the usuals, and he certainly didn’t look like one either. Threads of gray weaved through his dark hair and most of his beard. He had a weathered demeanor, that only made him more appealing. He had to be at least ten, maybe even fifteen years older than her.

She scanned his biker gear as he made his way toward the bar. Black riding boots, leather jacket, worn jeans, and a t-shirt that read “Bad Samaritan” made up his ensemble. A few of the regulars took note of him, especially the women, as he walked through the place. He was more than a little out of place in a sea of local office types having a quick drink between the end of their work day and their retreat home.

“What can I get for you?” she asked.

There was a mischief in his eyes as he spoke.

“A shot of Jack and whatever you have on tap will do me.”

“Guinness, Blue Moon, Bud or Bud Light,” she replied.

“All shit. I’ll take the Guinness, I guess.”

Amanda nodded and poured him a shot before heading over to pull a pint of beer from the tap, making polite conversation that might have been tipped with just a hint of curiosity.

“I haven’t seen you here before.”

“Nope.”

He wasn’t the talkative type as he offered up nothing further. Instead, he knocked back the shot and took a drink of the beer before ordering another shot. There was no conversation to be had between the two of them other than his ordering more shots and another beer. He seemed unaffected despite the amount of alcohol consumed as he eventually settled his tab and walked out. Amanda realized she knew nothing more about him when he left than she had when he came in and, much to her surprise, found that she would like to.

It wasn’t often that a man garnered much attention from her. Many of the regulars usually hit on her, but she had no interest in any of them. She was well aware that she was attractive, though not at all conceited about it. Most women would consider it good fortune to have been graced with her good looks, but it was a curse, as far as she was concerned.

She brushed her long blonde hair over her shoulder, and let her blue eyes scan the space. She felt like an All-American girl—looked like one—and that is precisely how she was treated. No one cared if she had a brain or any inclination to use it. Instead, they saw her as an object to be possessed. Men grabbed her thick waist and groped her lean legs. She rolled her eyes. Men only saw fit to dangle her on their arm as a point of envy for other men. Women saw her as a threat. She was neither.

It hadn’t been so long ago that she had thought it in her best interest to settle down. She was, after all, twenty-eight and still single. Carson Sims had been in her life for two years and was eager to marry her. It was no secret that he was ambitious and power hungry. That had been just fine with her for him to be driven. She had been just as keen to make a name for herself in the world of art acquisition. It had been after a particularly difficult day with a local curator that a conversation had shed a frightening light on what she was signing up for if she married Carson.

“I don’t know why you don’t just leave that job. You’re not going to need it once we are married,” he had told her.

Amanda had stopped in the middle of preparing their dinner and looked at him, studying his face carefully. He didn’t seem to think anything of what he had just said.

“I may not need the job, but I’m hardly one to sit at home and let you take care of me. I might complain, but I love my job and want to take it as far as I can. Someday, I’d like to own my own import-export business.”

“Then I’ll buy you one. I’m already doing quite well for myself and will only become more successful as time passes. We can buy you a business, and you can hire people to run it, so you aren’t tied up there all the time.”

“Why wouldn’t I just run it myself? It is, after all, what I want to do. Why would I pass it off to paid strangers?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Amanda. You’ll have your hands full here quickly enough.”

“With what?”

“Do you think running a household is easy? This is a huge house I’ve purchased for us to live in once we’re married. You can spend your time redecorating however you choose, cooking, reading...I’m sure you’ll want to hire the cleaning out eventually. I mean, I know you pretty much do it now, but once we have children, you’ll be even busier with them.”

Children?

“We haven’t even discussed children,” she replied.

Amanda could feel her anger rising. She had always known that Carson was traditional when it came to his idea of marriage, but she had no idea that he expected her to be a stay at home mother. What about her own ambitions? Was she not entitled to pursue a career just as he was?

“What’s to discuss? I thought you wanted children?”

“I don’t know if I do or not. Even if I do, it won’t be anytime soon.”

“Amanda, you are not getting any younger. Surely you don’t want to be one of those women who is middle-aged and pregnant?”

“I don’t know if I want to be pregnant at all!”

“Look, you seem agitated, and I have work to do. You need to sort yourself out and be reasonable. We’ll talk about it again some other time.”

Amanda stared at him wordlessly as he got up and made his way to his office down the hallway. Shaking herself free of her momentary paralysis, she looked around the kitchen. It dawned on her that this was meant to be a prison sentence, not a marriage. How had she missed that little fact?

That had been only a few months ago. She had packed her bags the following day while he was at work and left, leaving only a note with her engagement ring to hold it down on the kitchen table. She had intended to find a place of her own and just continue with her life without him in it, but things had gotten ugly quickly. Repeated incidents later, one of which was in direct violation of a subsequent restraining order, and Amanda had run even further away, giving up everything for a bit of peace of mind.

It had only been after her head had cleared a bit that she had realized that her reason for running went far beyond just not wanting to be a housewife and mother. She had been afraid of commitment, giving up her freedom. It had seemed manageable when Carson had proposed to her, but when he had begun talking about her becoming a homebody and a mother, it had gotten to her. That was the real reason she had left him.

Of course, she didn’t regret it. After seeing how he had reacted, how he had come after her, she could make certain assumptions. Would he have been that abusive in their marriage? Would it have just been verballing or would it have crossed the threshold to physical violence? He had shown signs of that during the stalking that had taken place, shoving her against a wall and pinning her there to force her to listen to his angry tirade. She had been frightened and greatly relieved when a local had forced him to release her and escorted her to her car safely.

So, she had ended up here, in a small town in the middle of nowhere. Rio Lobo wasn’t exactly the sort of place you’d find on any map. In fact, she hadn’t seen it on hers. Instead, she had wandered off course, ended up here by mistake and decided to stay. It was an old town, full of superstition and ancient lore, but it was her home now. If she missed anything about her past life, it was her budding career. Perhaps one day, she could pursue her dreams once again. Until then, she would continue to lay low and live the simple life she had come to embrace.

“It’s a beautiful view, isn’t it?”

Amanda sprang up from where she sat, not expecting anyone to be out along the falls. She often walked along the wooded path that opened along one side of the river, and ended where it crossed the top of the massive waterfall at the top of the lake it flowed into. From there, it dropped severely, crashing against the rocks that littered the stream below.

The sound of the rushing water is what had hidden his footsteps on the fall leaves behind her. She stood facing him, recognizing him instantly from the bar. Her heart pounded in her chest. What was he doing here? The idea that he might have been following her frightened her, as she had not seen him since last night.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, forgetting all sense of civility.

“I come here all the time. What are you doing here?” he asked.

“I’ve never seen you.”

“I’ve never seen you, either,” he pointed out.

“Fair enough. I’ll let you get on with things then,” she replied.

Amanda pulled her jacket around her a little tighter and began to walk away. She wasn’t thrilled about being so far out with no one around if things went sideways. She had only taken a few steps when he called out to her.

“You forgot something.”

Amanda turned to look at him. He was holding up the book she had left lying on the ground beside her. She had been intent upon reading for a while but had gotten lost in thought instead. A part of her told her to run, but something about him drew her back. She slowly made her way over to where he stood and reached for the book, but he snatched it away. Amanda’s heart beat wildly in her chest.

“I’ll trade it to you for your name.”

“Amanda Miller.”

It was all she could muster. She hadn’t been this frightened since the encounter with Carson in the alley before she had left. It had been the final straw that sent her in flight toward safety. Now, here she was on the edge of a waterfall with no one around except a biker who towered menacingly over her.

“Amanda. Very good. I’m Aspen. Aspen Lowery.”

“May I have my book now?”

Amanda felt no easier knowing his name. For all she knew, it wasn’t even his real name. All she really wanted to do was get as far away from here as possible. Though she still felt an attraction to him, she also sensed that he was a serious source of danger. The last thing she needed was to get mixed up with some sort of bad boy biker type.

“You may. Do you work tonight?”

“Yes,” she said tentatively, knowing she would only look foolish if she said no and then he came by to find her behind the bar.

“Then I will see you tonight when you aren’t terrified of being alone by the woods with a big bad biker type.”

Amanda tried to disguise the astonished look on her face as he handed back her book with a massive grin on his face. Could he really have known what she was thinking or was it just a good guess? Either way, it was quite unnerving. She took the book and made a hasty retreat, once again. There was no hesitation on her part until she made it clear of the woods and back to her car, hurriedly climbing inside and locking the doors before starting it up and heading toward home.

By the time work rolled around, she was fraught with anxiety. A part of her was excited at the prospect of seeing him again, but she was also nervous. It was far too soon to even consider a relationship with someone new. She wasn’t ready. It was settled, as far as she was concerned. When he came in, she would be polite, but not inviting. She’d keep him at a distance, and he would lose interest in favor of someone not quite so difficult to get to know.

The moment he walked into the room, her thoughts took on an entirely new tone. He strolled toward her wearing stone washed jeans, a crisp blue and white striped button-down, black leather jacket and polished boots. There was a smile on his face as he sat down on a stool in front of her at the bar. He looked positively fuckable. There was just no other way to say it and, for the first time, it occurred to Amanda that she could do just that. There didn’t need to be a relationship for her to get laid.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“Absolutely fine. Why?”

“You just seem a bit flushed is all.”

“Just a bit warm in here tonight.”

“Ah, didn’t notice. Much cooler outside on the bike.”

“You seem a bit more dressed up than when you were out riding yesterday,” she observed.

“I guess I am. I was hoping I might have a date later.”

“Hoping?”

Amanda felt a bit dejected. She had considered that he might be a bit more dressed up to impress her, but it was an effort for someone else, it seemed. The momentary heat she had felt at the thought of letting her inhibitions go and spending a hot night with a stranger was dashed.

“We’ll see.”

“What will it be then?” she asked.

“Ginger ale,” he replied.

“Ginger ale? Really? You do know this is a bar?”

“You do serve soft drinks, don’t you?”

“Well, yeah, but usually with alcohol in them.”

“I’m driving. Can’t drink.”

“Weren’t you driving last night when you downed all that Jack and Guinness?”

“Nope. I was riding.”

“Riding? You came in alone.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t have to drive home.”

Amanda looked at him curiously. She hadn’t seen him leave with anyone and if he had come alone, how had he gotten here? She wasn’t sure what she found more curious, these unanswered questions or why she wanted answers to them. The man’s interests obviously lay elsewhere. He had a date later - “maybe” - and it wasn’t with her. The meeting at the falls had just been a coincidence and he was only here killing time waiting for someone to join him. She would guess that it was the same person as from last night.

“So, about that ginger ale,” he said, jarring her from her thoughts.

“Right. Ginger ale.”

Amanda retrieved a cold bottle from the cooler and sat it on the bar, along with a clean glass, before heading down to the other end to wait for a customer who had just sat down. He was a regular, named Harkin.

“That guy bothering you, Amanda?” he asked.

“No, not at all. Glass of Bud?”

“You know it.”

Amanda went to get his beer, trying to look anywhere but down the bar where Aspen sat sipping on his glass of ginger ale. She poured the beer and returned to sit it down in front of him, leaning in as he motioned for her to do so.

“You need to watch the likes of him, Amanda. Those biker gangs are bad business. I’ve heard stories.”

“What sort of stories?” Amanda asked.

“Things I wouldn’t share with a nice young lady like you,” he told her.

Amanda smiled and nodded. Harkin was in his upper sixties, a widow. He spent most of his nights in the bar, surrounded by yuppies and college kids from the town nearby. It was a popular dive among not only the locals but those in the outer counties, as well. Aspen was very much out of place in his biker gear, but he didn’t seem to care. It made Amanda wonder, once again, what he was even doing here.

She made her way along the bar, serving other customers before finally making it back to Aspen. He seemed to be oblivious to anything around him. Instead, he appeared lost in thought as he ran his finger around the edge of his glass and stared off into the distance. Amanda found herself once again wondering who he was supposed to meet tonight. What would she look like? Would she be some cheap floozy in leather and tattoos?

“Have you been stood up?” she asked as closing time grew nearer and he still sat there, periodically making small talk with an older gentleman beside him.

“Stood up?”

“Yes. I thought you were waiting on someone to join you.”

“I am.”

“Got here way too early then?”

“No, I don’t think so. I’m enjoying waiting.”

Amanda looked at him, puzzled. It dawned on her that perhaps he didn’t have a date and was just waiting for someone interesting to come along. She looked around the bar. There were several attractive women, but she hadn’t seen him attempting to talk to any of them. He was going to have a hard time hooking up if he was just waiting for one to fall into his lap. Still, it wasn’t her business. She shrugged and moved back down the bar to refill a drink.

It was all she could do to keep her eyes on of him. There was something about him that just drew her in. Settling for quick glances in his direction to check his drink level, she mostly pretended he wasn’t down there just begging for her to flirt shamelessly. Still, she wasn’t about to do such a thing. No matter how hot he was, he was still some sort of biker that she knew next to nothing about.

Soon enough the bar began to thin out and she made the last call for the night. A few takers were relishing a final drink before wobbling home, but most of the people that remained seemed focused on settling their tabs and heading out. Except for him. He continued to sit, just sipping his ginger ale.

“You want a fresh one?” she asked, eying his half-empty glass which no longer held any ice and was bound to be incredibly watered down.

“Nope. Guess I should pay up.”

“We don’t charge for designated drivers who drink nothing alcoholic.”

“Nice of you. Guess I’ll just tip the lovely bartender then.”

“Tip jar is down there.”

Amanda nodded toward a glass jar that sat on the other end of the bar and moved away from him, picking up glasses and beginning her nightly ritual of closing the bar. The owner, a crusty old vet, named Roy Dander, was in the back and would be out as soon as they were officially closed to help and count the money taken in. He rarely came out unless there was a problem, trusting her to handle things even though she hadn’t been working for him that long. He said he had “a feel for people” and deemed her trustworthy. He wasn’t wrong, but it seemed a bit risky to her for him to allow a stranger so much latitude.

Finally, everyone was gone but Aspen Lowery, who sat in the same place he had been all evening. Damn, he was disarming. It was time to close up and go home though. He couldn’t stay any longer. She was about to say something when Roy came out and spotted him. It was obvious that he recognized him from the way he began to scowl in his direction.

“Bar’s closing buddy. Time to hit the road,” he said.

“No problem, Roy,” Aspen said.

He seemed unfettered by Roy’s rudeness. Amanda had the feeling that whatever the two men knew about one another went back a very long way. As Aspen walked toward the door, she followed him to lock it behind him.

“I guess that date didn’t pan out, huh?” she remarked as he stepped out.

He turned to look back at her, his face lit up by the neon glow of the Blue Moon sign that hung beside the door. He was smiling happily as he made eye contact so intense that she wanted to jump him right then and there.

“Night isn’t over yet,” he told her.

Amanda watched as he walked toward the only customer vehicle left in the large parking lot, a black and chrome Harley. For the first time, she noticed the large wolf that adorned the back of his jacket. Above it, the words “Silver Wolf MC” were printed in bright red embroidered letters. She was shaken from her momentary paralysis by the sound of Roy calling out to her from the bar. Locking the door, she went back inside.

“When did he start coming in here?” he asked.

“Last night. Why?”

“As long as it is just him and he doesn’t start any trouble, he can come in, but if he starts bringing his buddies or starts any fuss - ban him.”

“Why? Who is he? What has he done?” she asked.

“He’s just bad news. Him and that whole motor club of his. This town would be better off without them.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Stick around, and you’ll learn soon enough. They bring trouble when they come around. I don’t want it in my bar.”

Amanda could tell he was getting a little upset, though she had no idea why. She decided it was probably best to just let it go. Rather than pushing the issue, she went about her work while he began tallying up the register. She finished up and collected the contents of the tip jar, along with the cash he paid her each night from the till. It probably wasn’t necessary. She was far away from the ex, but it made her a little hard to find, just in case he did get any ideas. Collecting her tips, she told him goodnight and let herself out, locking him inside to finish his work.