Chapter 2
Marley
I never could’ve dreamed that my night would have taken such an interesting turn. I wasn’t exactly shocked that I’d gotten lost or that I’d managed to lock the keys in my car when I stopped for dinner on the way home. Things like that just seemed to happen to me, but crossing paths with the hot biker was a surprise. When he walked up, I immediately forgot all about my stream of bad luck. He was all of my secret fantasies wrapped up in one smoking hot package. I knew he was the kind of guy my father always warned me about, but all those little pieces of advice about dangerous men on motorcycles fell on deaf ears when I stared into those beautiful blues. I couldn’t help myself. I relished that feeling of intrigue swirling around in my mind when I looked at him. He was the strong and silent type, burly and rough, and absolutely the hottest guy I’d ever laid eyes on. I was lost. The man was practically towering over me with his broad shoulders and gigantic muscles rippling through his tight t-shirt, but I didn’t feel threatened by him—not in the least bit. It was just the opposite. I was drawn to the captivating stranger, and it terrified me. I feared that I might lose all of my sense of reality and just throw myself at him, giving in to the lustful need that was surging through my veins. And having his jacket wrapped around me wasn’t making it any easier to resist the temptation to climb him like a tree. It was bad; I was completely losing it, and the scent of his cologne mixed with leather was just about to drive me over the edge.
I had to hold it together.
I took a deep breath and stared straight ahead, trying to get a grasp on my raging libido. As we drove down that long, dark road, I couldn’t help but think that I wouldn’t have even met my handsome stranger if that stubborn Mr. Evan Abrams had just returned my phone call. I would’ve been home soaking in a nice, hot bath instead of hunting down some house in the country. But nothing ever seemed to be that easy with the people in Clallam County. I’d only been working at Smith, Wells, and Daniels Law Firm for a few months, but I already figured that some folks were just hard to deal with. As the newest associate, I was stuck managing all the cases the partners didn’t want to handle, so it was no surprise that things weren’t going exactly as planned with this one. There was a reason none of the others wanted to deal with the Abrams family, but it didn’t matter. I had one thing on my mind: locate the son and finalize the will, period. I was determined to prove to all the men in the office that I could handle the Abrams family and whatever else they threw my way. Knowing that I couldn’t afford to waste any time, I decided it was time to pay Evan Abrams a visit in person. From what I could tell, none of his family members—not even his sister—had been able to reach him, so he had no idea that his dad died a few weeks back. Since the day I was given the case, I’d been trying to sort the Abrams’ family estate, and I needed to let his only son know that he and his sister had inherited the family home along with all of the land and his father’s money, including his stocks and bonds. It was going to be difficult to tell a complete stranger that his father had passed away, but it had to be done. I was on my way to notify him when I got lost, which led me to locking my keys in my car at Mikey’s Diner… which led me to getting on the back of Mr. Stud Muffin’s bike. I was so screwed.
I was just starting to see the lights from town when he slowed the bike and yelled over his shoulder, “Where are we headed?”
I sighed, realizing that I was about to tell a complete stranger where I lived, but I decided to throw caution to the wind. I knew my dad was working the night shift at the precinct and my brother, Brandon, was probably sleeping. He was still trying to get over some stomach bug.
I leaned forward with my chin close to his shoulder and shouted over the loud rumble of the bike’s engine, “I live on East Park Avenue. It’s the blue house at the end of the street on the right. Number 601.”
“Got it,” he answered as he put his hand back on the accelerator, exposing several dark colored leather bracelets stacked along his wrist.
The wind caught my breath as he sped down the long, deserted road. My body began to tremble from the chill of the night air, making me feel a tad guilty for taking his jacket. I knew he must be freezing, but I couldn’t imagine how cold I would be without it. Feeling a little guilty, I leaned forward, placing my mouth close to his ear as I said, “Thanks for the ride… and for letting me wear your jacket.”
“Not a problem, doll,” he shouted.
I found myself wishing that the ride would last just a bit longer. I liked being on the bike with him. When we were kids, my brother would take me out riding all the time. He’d take me out on his dirt bike, exploring all the trails and woods in Cullman, Alabama, where we grew up. Eventually he managed to save enough money to buy his first motorcycle and he’d take me out from time to time, but it had been ages since I’d been out for a ride. We’ve both been too busy to even think about it. After we moved to Washington with our dad, we’d both gone to college and started our careers. Even though we lived in the same house, we rarely crossed paths, and I couldn’t remember the last time I’d even laid eyes on my dad. Since he became the police chief, he was always busy investigating some case. No matter how small the crime, my dad treated it like a capital offense. It was just the way things were with him. He expected no less than everyone’s best at all times, no excuses.
My heart started to race when he pulled onto my street. The bike’s engine seemed louder than ever as we continued down the quiet street and headed for my house. I had no idea what I was so worried about. After he dropped me off, I’d never have to lay eyes on him again. I just had to get off the bike, say thank you, and get my butt in the house. Simple enough—or so I thought.
When he parked next to the curb and turned off the engine, I eased myself off of the bike and said, “Thanks again for your help. I really do appreciate it.”
“Not a problem.” He opened his saddlebag and reached inside for my purse. As he offered it to me, he said, “Glad I was there to help.”
I took it from his hand and gave him a bashful wave as I started towards the front door. After taking a few steps, I realized that I was still wearing his jacket, so I quickly slipped it off and walked back over to him. My face blushed red as I said, “Umm… You might need this.”
He hesitated for a moment, and a strange look crossing his face as he reached out and took the leather jacket from my hand. After he put it back on, he gave me a slight nod and, without another word, started his bike and drove off.
Disappointment washed over me as I watched him vanish out of sight. He hadn’t asked for my number. He hadn’t even asked for my name. He just took off like he was relieved to be rid of me, and I hated that it bothered me so much. I couldn’t shake the regret that was building in the back of my mind. I wanted to know more about the enigmatic stranger, and the part that got to me the most was that I wanted him to want to know more about me as well. Yep, I was off my rocker.
Berating myself all the way to the front door, I stepped inside and found my brother lying on the sofa with a cold rag on his head. He looked like death warmed over, so I tried not to get too close as I asked, “Hey, bro. You feeling any better?”
“I’m fine,” he grumbled. Even though he was two years older than me, owned his own construction company, and could take on a pack of wolves with his bare hands, the man acted like a big ol’ whiny baby whenever he was sick. On days like this, he was just downright pitiful. So I did my best to avoid him at all costs when he wasn’t feeling well.
“Okay, then. You sure you don’t need anything?”
“Nah,” he murmured with his eyes closed. “I’m fine.”
As I headed for the stairs, I said, “Okay, suit yourself. I’m headed to bed.”
I’d just hit the first step when he asked, “You gonna tell me who that was?”
“Who?” I knew exactly who he was talking about.
“The guy on the 2015 Limited Edition Harley Road Glide Special that just pulled up to our house and dropped you off?”
“Oh… umm… I don’t know. Just some guy. I had a little car trouble, so he offered to bring me home,” I explained.
“Why didn’t you call me?”
Knowing he’d crawl all over me for locking my keys in the car, I lied, “I knew you weren’t feeling well, so I just—”
He yanked the rag off of his forehead and sat up on the sofa. He reminded me of our father as he glared at me with his dark brown eyes and bellowed, “Dammit, Marley Jo. Who knows who this guy is? He could’ve–”
Before he could continue, I held up my hand and shouted, “Don’t even start with me, Brandon. I managed to survive just fine, and I don’t need a lecture from you… or Dad.”
“You got lucky this time.” He coughed and grumbled as he fell back on his pillow and placed the rag back on his forehead. “Where’d you leave your car? I’ll go take a look at it in the morning.”
I knew he’d ask. He always asked. It was one of the many negatives of living in the same house with two overbearing men. When Mom died, I had thought moving in with my dad was the best way to help him. I needed a place to stay; I’d just graduated from law school and started my job at the firm in town. It just made sense. Then, Brandon had decided to build a house and moved in with Dad when construction began. It was good to be all together again, but now the house seemed so much smaller than it did when we were kids. All sense of privacy was gone. If Brandon found out I didn’t have my keys, he’d have a cow. So I did the only thing I knew to do: I lied.
I walked over to the front door and locked the deadbolt as I said, “I’ve already called a wrecker service. I knew you weren’t feeling good, so I just told them to go out there and get it.”
“Why’d you go and do that? Do you have any idea how expensive that is?”
“I do… and I said I took care of it,” I told him as I turned and stormed up the stairs, avoiding any chance that he’d tell me to cancel the tow. Once I was in my room, I quickly threw on my pajamas and curled into bed. I was exhausted, but there was no way I was going to get any sleep. I couldn’t stop thinking about him—the sexy curve of his lips when he smiled, the intoxicating scent of his cologne, the spark in his eyes when he looked at me, and the way my body tingled when I got on his bike and wrapped my arms around him. Every breath I took brought on another thought or memory, and there was nothing I could do to stop it, and I wasn’t so sure I wanted to. I liked the way I felt when I was with him.
I stared at the ceiling for hours, reliving every moment I’d shared with him, and the longer I lay in the bed, the harder it was to stay there. I decided to stop fighting it and got up. I put on my bathrobe and once I had my slippers on, I headed downstairs to the kitchen for a cup of coffee. It was early, long before my dad or brother would be getting up, so I decided to take advantage of the quiet. While my coffee was brewing, I headed out to the front door to get the morning paper. As usual, it just barely made it to the porch and was teetering on the side of the deck. I picked it up and was just about to step back inside when I noticed my car pulling into the driveway. I stood there and watched as it stopped right at the garage door. The door opened, and a tall, muscular man with a baseball cap and cowboy boots, looking like he’d been plucked right out of a cotton field in Tennessee, stepped out of the car. I was a little taken aback to see Farmer John walking towards me.
As he reached the front steps, he smiled and said, “We got your car for ya.”
“We?” I cocked my head to the side and studied him for a moment before I asked, “Umm… and who are you?”
“Oh… I’m sorry, ma’am. I’m Boozer. One of the brothers from the club. Smokey wanted me to get your car back to you before you had to go to work, so…” he told me as he extended his hand out to me. I could only assume that the Smokey he was referring to was the biker guy from last night. I thought back to those gorgeous, blue eyes and that black beard and wondered how he’d managed to get the nickname Smokey. I was lost in my thoughts when Boozer continued, “Here ya go.”
I took the keys from him. “Thank you… umm, Boozer. I really appreciate it. How much do I owe you?”
“Not a thing, Sweet Pea. Smokey took care of it.” Then he started walking towards the road. Just as he reached the sidewalk, a black SUV pulled up next to him. Before he got in the truck, he waved at me and shouted, “Let us know if you need anything else.”
Before I could stop him, he slammed his door. Goosebumps began to prickle against my skin as the truck inched away from the curb. Feeling a strange sensation that I was being watched, I pulled my robe tighter around my waist and stared at the dark-tinted windows, trying to see if I could make out who was sitting in the driver’s seat. Warmth rushed over me when I noticed a familiar dark beard and a wrist covered in the same leather bracelets I’d seen last night.
It was him. I couldn’t stop myself from watching the SUV as it slowly made its way down the street, and I suddenly became scared that it might be the last time I’d ever see my mysterious biker.