I’m a watcher. I can’t help it. Ever since I got back from my last deployment, where I spent days in hiding, frozen in mountainside caves or rooftops or wherever the fuck they sent me, staring through the world around me through a scope, I have kept the same habits.

Don’t engage, don’t draw attention, just lay low and observe and you’ll know more about everyone and everything than you thought possible. I’ve relaxed a bit in the time since I’ve been home, made a few friends that can put up with me running hot and cold, got a big ass bike that draws attention but turns people off from the dirty biker, but I still watch.

Mostly though, I watch because I still don’t feel like I belong. Sure, TJ puts up with my ass, and old Earl holds out hope for me, but when I walk around town, or when I go to the supermarket, the people I pass just don’t seem to belong to the same species as me. They’re smiling, they’re in that sort of pleasant smartphone-induced haze that’s filled with Facebook updates, manufactured outrage over some people you don’t really give two shits about, and kitten pictures.

Part of me remembers the time I was about the same. I used to be just a blue-collar kid who liked working with my hands, liked playing football, and had good enough eyes that I had an outside chance at getting a small college scholarship for baseball.

Quiet and shadowed against the front of my building, I’ve downed two Monsters while I peering into the salon across from me, still caught in my reflections. Why did I join the Army? It wasn’t out of any great desire to wrap myself in the flag and go play soldier boy, I remember that. I’d seen the JROTC crew sweating it out in the parking lot twirling their rifles and shining their helmets while my friends and I sweated just as much in our football or baseball uniforms.

So why did I join? I guess the answer’s simple, it was something to do to get me out of here. How was I supposed to anticipate spending most of my time outside of basic training in a godforsaken desert? How could I have known what I would see… what I had to do?

I see the door open and Brad leave, leaving behind McKayla, who’s sweeping up, bending over in a skirt that hugs her every curve like it was custom-made for her. She may be a Pretty Pink Princess, but she’s built like a pin-up queen.

Hell, I don’t know, she’s a Hollywood girl, maybe it was made for her curvy measurements. She hasn’t made a big deal of her background, I think she’s left that in Brad’s hands, but the rumors have gotten around, and a few people have googled her. Supposedly she’s done some pretty famous shit, not that they advertise who cuts the hair on summer blockbusters.

After the first Monster, I’m about to go inside for the evening when I see that prick Jaxson striding down the sidewalk and I shrink even further into the shadows so he won’t see me. I stand in the shadows, not moving for another twenty minutes while he chats up McKayla, obviously trying to lay the mack down on her. He even tries sweeping like a dutiful servant before she ushers him out the front door. I have to smirk… I may not know a lot about McKayla, but it’s not the way to impress that woman. She’s the kind that I bet loves to get treated like a queen, but only from a man strong enough.

My fist tightens against my thigh when I see him lean in to kiss her, but I damn near guffaw out loud when I see her bob and duck away from his advance. Damn, last time I saw moves like that was when Ali was making people look like fools in a boxing ring.

Good girl. Smart girl, I think. You don’t want to let him in even an inch.

He walks away, turning back for one more wave, but she stays outside, glancing along the street for a moment. I predict when her gaze will hit the front of the garage and drain the rest of my can, kicking it back to catch the streetlight on the bottom just as she looks over.

It’s not what I should do, intentionally drawing her attention like that, and honestly I don’t even know why I do it. I just want her to know I’m here. She squints for a moment, making sure her eyes aren’t playing tricks on her. I toss my can to the side, where it rattles as it makes its way into the trash can that TJ insists on keeping right outside the office door… probably because of my damn cans.

I’m smiling, knowing McKayla’s about to hairflip away again and stomp inside. I’m already focused on her hips, ready for the quick view of her ass in that leopard skirt when I realize that she’s not turning to go inside and instead those curvy hips are getting closer as she struts across the street towards me. As she gets close, my smile turns into a full on grin. “So, wanting to see the bike again?”

She’s not amused. “Hey asshole, you’re just perving out over here now. Get an eyeful?”

I smile, but it’s a small consolation. “Evan.”

Her thunder stolen, she stares at me, confused. “Huh?”

I raise an eyebrow, and pat my chest in a mocking thump. “You called me asshole. My name’s Evan. Me Evan, you Princess McKayla. Just thought you’d want to know who you’re bitching at. Continue.” I wave my hand in a come on gesture, since while I know I’ve knocked her back a little, she’s not the kind to stay that way for long.

She smirks, continuing. “I said… Evan, aka Pervy McPerverson, maybe you should take a picture, it’d last longer.” She eyes me like saying my name is asking her to chug a lima bean juice frappe.

I smile, and it’s a real one, a rare occurrence these days as I’m struck with a thought. Curious, I ask her, “Maybe one of you trespassing on my bike? How’d that turn out anyways? Get what you needed?”

It’s the longest string of speech I’ve offered her yet and judging by the shock on her face, she realizes that too. Her sails deflate, and while it takes a little bit out of the sparky sexiness she’s got, it also makes her cuter in a lot of ways. “Yeah, about that. I really am sorry. I did try to ask, and when nobody answered, I meant to just stand in front of it and not touch. I got carried away. I’d say it won’t happen again, but that’d be a lie. My whole life is pretty much me getting carried away by crazy ideas and wild adventures.”

I huff out a laugh at her honest admission. “So tell me, what’s the craziest idea, wildest adventure you’ve ever been carried away on?”

She looks up to the sky, like there’s an answer written in the sparks of the stars, humming as she searches her memory. Considering how long it’s taking, either she’s going to lie her ass off, or she actually has gotten into some crazy shit. I’m kinda hoping it’s the second.

Finally, looking me in the eye, she starts. “Well, I’d say the time I dared to touch a guy’s bike without permission, but maybe that’s not so crazy after all. How about ditching Hollywood and moving to a new town to start a new business when I only know one person in the whole town? Meh, you know that too. Let’s see…”

She taps her lips with black painted nails that glitter in the street lights, and I feel a long forgotten tingle in my jeans. It’s not that the equipment doesn’t work, but usually the demons are running around too much for me to do anything about it. “Well?” I ask, trying not to laugh. “Let me guess, you went to a club and Leonardo DiCaprio walked in… and walked out ten minutes later with you and every other woman in the club in tow.”

“Leo?” she asks. “At least give me some credit, it’d take him more than five minutes just for me alone. Six, at least. Anyway, ah… yep, craziest adventure. I once hitchhiked across the state line to Nevada, just a backpack of snacks and a hundred bucks to my name. Rode with a truck driver on the way there, and a group of bikers on the way back. In hindsight, they might’ve been a motorcycle club, but I didn’t care at the time. They were just going the right direction.”

My eyes go wide, that’s a bit wilder than I’d thought. Maybe even bordering on stupid. “What was in Nevada? Hitting the slots with that hundred?”

McKayla leans in to whisper like she doesn’t want anyone to hear, even though we’re alone on the darkened street. “I went to a Prince concert.”

I realize how close she is and my heartbeat picks up as I look at her. “All that for a concert? Must’ve been some show.”

She leans back, eyes meeting mine, and grins. “That’s not the crazy part. The crazy part is that I hitchhiked with a trucker and biker gang to Vegas and back for a Prince concert alone…” She pauses for dramatic effect, “when I was sixteen. And lived to tell the tale. It was fun and I was damn lucky.”

Alright, not bordering on stupid, past the line of stupid. But at least she seems to recognize how insane it was. “That’s a dangerous adventure. Hope you’re a little smarter about your escapades now.”

She smirks at me, tilting her head in a way that sends another tingle down my spine. “Sometimes yes, sometimes no. You only live once, so I’m going for it, balls to the wall. Speaking of, come on.” She grabs at my hand, lifting her chin towards her salon. “That mop of yours needs a damn trim.”

I’m a little stunned. Nobody willingly touches me these days, everyone’s too scared of the growling, ticking time bomb that I am to even approach me. I’m surprised some people don’t ask to see my rabies tag.

But she just takes my hand like it’s no big deal. Crazy and wild, indeed. I’m curious what she’s up to, so I follow, prowling across the street with her. She pulls open the salon doors, leading me inside and walks up to a wall in the reception area. “Well, you wanted to see it, there you go.”

I can’t really see this angle from my shop-front, so I look around and see what she’s talking about. The photo of her posed leaning over my bike looks like something that you’d find on one of those old motorcycle calendars, Miss July because she’s so damn hot. But whoever did the filtering and printing did a lot to up the class level a notch, making it classy and not trashy. The black and white coloring gives it a vintage feel, highlighting the curves of her body and my bike.

I instantly memorize it because it’s probably the hottest thing I’ve ever seen and I know I’ll be jacking off to that image later tonight.

I turn towards McKayla, giving her a low whistle. “I don’t wanna sound rude, but you look sexy as fuck in this picture. Maybe I should’ve let you take a few more with my bike before running you off.”

If I thought she’d be turned off by my lack of finesse, I’m dead wrong because she moves in close, rising up to her tiptoes in those damn high heels to press her lips to mine.

It’s sultry and heated, even as her lips simply move against mine, not begging entry, just enjoying the moment. She breaks contact, leaving my lips burning and looks into my eyes. “Well, Evan? You going to be rude some more?”

Before I know what I’m doing, I grab her around the waist, kissing her back forcefully, pulling her body in tight to press against mine, her glorious mix of soft curves and firm flats making my heart race. My cock lets loose a battle cry that I haven’t felt in a long time, raging to full hardness in my jeans as I reach down to knead her ass.

She lets out a whimpering sigh of delight and I take advantage, slipping my tongue in to tangle with hers. It feels like sparks are flicking against my skin everywhere we touch as our lips work at each other. She slips a hand up to my hair, threading the strands through her fingers and gently pulling me even deeper.

Her other hand claws at my back, those manicured nails scratching my shoulder blade deeply. The flash of pain wakes me up and I pull back, resting my forehead against hers, my breath coming in pants as I try to recover. McKayla’s breathing is even heavier, her eyes wild. “What’s wrong?”

I take her arms in mine and nudge her away to look her in the eye. “You don’t want to do this. Crazy and wild adventures might be your thing, but I’m not an adventure you want to try out. You’ll just get yourself hurt. I’m a damn nosediving plane, just trying to stay steady and praying I don’t pancake when I hit rock bottom. And fucking the new chick across the street damn sure isn’t gonna make my life any easier.”

I step back, still trying to shake off the effect she’s had on me. My body is crying out, no part of it louder than my cock which is screaming at me to turn the fuck around and go back, it’s forgotten what a real woman feels like!

I ignore it, using the last little scrap of decency left in me to keep my feet pointing in the right direction. Walking out the door, I hear her behind me. “Bye… Evan.”

“And so anyways, John was like, I saw this on Netflix when I was thinking the whole time, ‘uh-huh. You’ve just been watching porn again.’ So I turned to him and said if you think I’m gonna put my mouth anywhere near--”

I tune out the chatter, trying desperately not to focus as another one of my customers seems to want to treat a haircut like a chance to engage in some free sex counseling or something. Maybe it’s our image. The sexy picture of me on the motorcycle probably doesn’t help, even if it is fucking awesome. But with Brad and I being a little more… out there than the average person around here, and our natural flirtatious natures, people think we’re sex experts or something.

I wish. Right now, the only thing going through my mind is fuck me running. Or standing, or lying down, or sitting. Or basically any damn way that doesn’t involve the police. Since kissing Evan a few days ago, riding that man to oblivion is all I can think about.

I’ve gotten through the days, I’m still seeing customers virtually back-to-back all day. I really haven’t had time to count my lucky stars, but Brad was right last week, we might need to look at hiring another pair of hands around here. Front desk, clean up, even another stylist. I remind myself as Mrs. Alameda in front of me keeps going on about her husband.

While the hustle has helped me from going nuts, more than once Brad has got me daydreaming as I stare out the window across the street. I haven’t told him why yet, but he’s smart, he knows. He just hasn’t said anything yet, but he knows I like men like Evan. And motorcycles. And bad boys on motorcycles….

Speaking of, I glance up to stare out the window and across the street, straight into his garage. It didn’t take me long to figure out that by putting my clients in the first chair on the left side, I could keep track of the big doors on the shop. And it only took me about five minutes after they opened Monday morning that I realized we have a clear shot to see inside as they work on cars. Can I get an amen for beautiful weather?

Right now I’m taking advantage of what is being dropped right into my lap. And I’ll admit that maybe, just maybe, I’ve been watching like the pervert I accused Evan of being.

I finish up with Mrs. Alameda and swipe her card before standing behind the counter and look out across the street during the ten minutes I’ve got open in my schedule. Evan’s working on a truck right now it looks like, his muscular arms flexing as he turns some sort of wrench while taking the rear tires off.

I hear Brad tsk behind me. “Girl, are you at it again?”

I smile, turning just my head to answer. “Hell to the yes, I am. Hey, I see there’s another guy over there working on a car. Who do you think he is?”

Brad sighs, looking to the heavens as he comes over from his station, probably for strength to not wring my neck. He looks out the window for a moment, then shrugs. “Considering your boy told me he owns the shop with his brother, and that guy is a younger, sweeter looking version of your asshole boytoy obsession, I’d lay bets that he’s the brother. I’m brilliant at deduction like that, just call me Sherlock fucking Holmes.”

I laugh, shaking my head. “You know I read somewhere that Holmes and Watson probably did the dirty in Arthur Conan Doyle’s private notebooks?”

“It ain’t dirty. Well, not too dirty,” Brad says with a smirk. “So, about your boyfriend-”

I glower at Brad, elbowing him in the side. “He’s not my boyfriend. But he’s damn sure gonna take me for a ride. On that bike or otherwise.”

A timer chimes softly and I walk back towards my second favorite chair, where I can still get a view of Evan at work, but not as good a view. I’ve got another client in it, chilling out with her earbuds in while a heat activated conditioner soaks into her scalp. I pat her shoulder and she opens an eye, popping out an earbud. “Hey Rose, your conditioning treatment is done. Ready to wash up?”

Rose sighs, taking out the other earbud, looking disappointed. “Already time? Damn, my audiobook was just getting to the good stuff.”

“Good stuff like goooood stuff? Well, don’t let me stop you. Just let it play out loud while I rinse your hair and maybe we’ll all enjoy the good stuff for a minute. Lord knows, I’m not getting any otherwise.”

Rose, who’s a little younger than me and totally the good girl with a deep-seated naughty streak that will rock some guy’s world some day, laughs, popping the earbud jack out of her tablet to let the audiobook play. “...throwing her onto the bed, the pirate captain growls as he rips her bodice clean up the front, leaving her breasts heaving into the chilled air. Diving in, he suckles her nipple, her wanton body writhing in need for the long, hard sword she felt pressing against her through his tight breeches. ‘Please, Captain… please…’ she begs. ‘Give it to me.’

‘Aye,’ the captain says, leering at her. ‘I’ll make you shiver on me timber.’”

I bust out in raucous laughter, unable to take any more. “What the hell are you listening to, Rose? Some pirate porn shit? It’s literally a bodice ripper!”

She’s laughing now too and Brad just stares at us like we’re from an alien species before he gripes. “Is that really what women read? Long, hard sword. Shiver on me timber. Seriously? It’s not that difficult.”

“Oh?” Rose asks, grinning at Brad. “And what does it take then, oh expert on all things concerning male seduction?”

Brad shrugs. “Girls, take it from me, just tell the man you want his cock and he’ll be ready to go nine times out of ten. Hell, they’ll be breaking down your door.”

“Yeah well, gotta worry about our reputations,” Rose counters, making Brad shrug, unconcerned. “What?”

“You know what a reputation is? It’s what you use to console yourself when you’re using a vibrator instead of the real thing.” He presses his lips together as he snaps his fingers and hums his agreement with his own statement. “And on that sage advice, I’m outtie for lunch. You bitches want me to grab you anything from the diner?”

He points at each of us, waiting for us to shake our head before swooshing out the door. Brad’s relaxed more, being his fabulous self more in public and I’m glad. For now though, Rose and I look at each other and dissolve into giggles again. I wipe a tear from eye, “So… pirate porn, huh? Wouldn’t have pegged for that. Get it… pegged?”

She groans and rolls her eyes at my bad pun, but sobers up. “Yeah, well, I’ve been so busy with the boutique, starting it on my own and working the B shift. I’ll be there when it opens, and I’ll be there when it closes, that I haven’t had time to date or have a personal life at all really.”

“Hire some help,” I comment, but Rose shakes her head. “Why not?”

“The boutique isn’t quite as popular as this place. And while I’m not worried about living the high life, I’d like to be able to afford to eat more than ramen noodles and box mac n’ cheese.”

“Good point,” I joke. “All that MSG and shit’ll kill you.”

Rose sighs, looking a little forlorn. “I’m probably gonna end up the cat lady who yells at customers to close the door when they try to come in and shop so my horde of cats don’t escape.”

I start with the obvious, wanting to cheer her up. She’s the closest thing I’ve made to a new friend in this town, and I hate seeing her looking this way. “If you have so many cats that they’re gonna escape, your store is gonna close in a hot flash of a minute, Spinster Rose. So there, then you’ll have time to date. Problem solved.” I give her a pointed look. “Or you know, you could date now and bypass the cat scratch fever and Fancy Feast.”

Rose nods her agreement. “I know. It’s just hard, even in a town this size and with tourists coming through. I thought I’d be a successful entrepreneur with a husband and a kid or two by now. But that’s just not in the cards, so my boutique is my baby and I’m so hard up that I listen to pirate porn instead of dating a decent guy with an actual cock. And no, I won’t let you look at my browser history.”

I chuckle, and start rinsing out her conditioner. “It’s okay, honey. Maybe your ship will come in. Hell, maybe he’ll be the one who likes pegging.”

“Huh?”

I shake my head, remembering that I’m not in Hollywood anymore and things aren’t quite as adventurous. “Never mind. Just one word of caution, Rose. If that boat’s named Titanic, don’t get on the damn thing.”

She giggles at me, finally relaxing some again. “How about you? New in town, anybody caught your attention?”

I sigh dreamily, and resist the urge to look through the front window again. “Maybe. Do you know Evan across the street at the garage?”

She recoils in horror, jerking so hard she nearly bonks her head on the porcelain edge of the rinse sink if it isn’t for my quick hand. “The asshole that barely speaks, just grunts at people and revs his death machine motorcycle up and down the street at all hours of the night? That Evan?”

I nod, feeling a light blush creep up my neck. “That’s the one. What can I say? I’ve got good taste in men.” I purse my lips as I turn her head and get more of the conditioner. “And it’s not a death machine. It’s a pretty sweet bike.”

Rose sighs. “Have you actually talked to him? I think the boutique was open for almost a year before he said one word to me and that was only because I took my car in for service and TJ wasn’t working that day. I told him what I needed and he grunted, said ‘3 o’clock’ and walked off. Customer service at its finest.”

I shrug, she’s dead on even to the way she drops her voice to make it grunt a little. “Sounds about right. First thing he ever said to me was a volume ten as he charged me like a damn bull…” I lower my voice into an imitation of Evan, growling. “What the fuck are you doing?”

Rose’s eyes widen and her jaw drops, and she sits up, gaping at me while I work on drying her hair. “And then what?”

I smile, working the towel through her hair before squeezing it out. I spin her chair around and pick up my scissors, knowing Rose doesn’t need much, but I do want to even her out in the back. “Well, after that great introduction, we had a big screaming match in the middle of Main Street. And a week later, I kissed the shit out of him before he ran. But he won’t be scared for long. He’ll be back.”

“How do you know?”

I grin, catching Rose’s eyes in the mirror. “Because now I’m a fear he has to conquer.” I kiss the air, smacking my lips, certain I know how this is going to play out. “And he might find that conquering me… well, I like to conquer myself.”

Rose chuckles. “Is that so?”

“Shiver me timbers.”

Lunchtime in the shop is always a bit awkward as my brother, TJ, and I try to make conversation like I’m not a bastard thorn in his side. We don’t even eat the same things. He’s all about the burgers and enjoying his food while I seem to take bitter comfort in eating shit that would make more sense in field rations.

So here we sit, day after day unless he escapes to the diner, making small talk about the various cars we’re working on or flipping through car magazines scattered across the table. I don’t even think we’re keeping track of what we’re saying, I know at least twice a week where one of us will go to the other about something we just talked about at lunch and it devolves into a shouting match because we’ve already discussed it, but we keep doing it. I guess it’s what brothers do.

I’m damn grateful he’s willing to even work with me, but that doesn’t make it any less uncomfortable to chit-chat with a guy who knew you before you were fucked in the head with an alphabet diagnosis of PTSD that basically just warns folks that I’m always a breath away from losing it.

I can see it in TJ’s face too sometimes. He remembers when we’d spend hours tinkering with our dad’s car, or with the bikes and cars our friends brought us. Hell, our wrench skills are what paid for what had to be one of the most epic Spring Break trips of all time, a four day trip to Lake Havasu in Arizona. I don’t think TJ and I slept in the same bed twice those whole four days, and I know for damn sure I never woke up with the same bedmate I did the night before. Thank god for condoms and Lady Luck favoring the young and foolish.

Maybe that’s what TJ is looking for, the big brother who was fun-loving and maybe a bit crazy, but was the rock that helped him out when our parents died soon afterwards. TJ was ready to give up his dream for this shop and just get a regular job when I, on leave before my first deployment, pulled him aside and told him in no way, shape or form was I going to let him do that. Instead I made him sign up at tech college so he’d have the business skills to go with being a grease monkey, and then sent him a big chunk of my paycheck each month to make sure he was taken care of.

He doesn’t know where that guy’s gone, or why. Sometimes, I wonder too. Lots of guys from my unit are doing well, settled stateside with wives and kids and I always wonder if they’re stronger than me for being able to handle the shit we saw overseas better than I can. Or maybe they’re less affected because there’s something wrong with them, and I’m the normal one.

I don’t know, I just know that there’s always a little kernel of something black at my core and it swirls, rising and falling outside my control sometimes, no matter how many stupid fucking breathing exercises I try from the VA doc. Maybe it’s just what the one guy told me, there’s people who are made for war, and people who aren’t. Sometimes, the people who aren’t are forced into war, and it changes them, sometimes breaks them.

I feel eyes on me and look up from the new bike magazine spread out in front of my microwaved tray of Salisbury steak, grainy mashed potatoes, and dark greenish shit that’s supposed to be either spinach or beans, I’m not sure which. I look up to see TJ giving me a look. My mouth’s, so I just grunt. “Wha?”

He leans over from his lunch of a club sandwich on whole wheat, guess he’s trying to clean up for some reason he’s not telling me, to slap me on the shoulder. “How you doin’, brother?”

I give him a what the fuck look. Normally, if TJ has something he wants to ask me, or to offer me, he just comes out and says it. This is something new, and new tends to make me put my guard up. New hurts, or at least hurts more than the old. “Same as always, just eating my damn lunch.”

I don’t ask what he’s up to, like I said I really don’t want to know. But he is in full on fairy-flew-up-his-ass-mode, so he keeps going. “Well, I’m doing well. Very well, in fact. Thanks for asking.” He gives me a shit-eating grin, and I growl lightly. Great, fairy dust and unicorn rainbows. Someone get him a My Little Pony. “Ask me why?”

I set my spoon down, wiping my greasy fingers on my jeans and rock the chair back on two legs as I look at him, trying to see if there’s something different I’m missing. Not seeing anything, I decide the easiest way to get through this is to just let him talk. “Alright fucker, why are you doing so damn well today?”

I see the excitement behind his eyes and I flash back again to when we were boys, both whole and happy and full of life. He still looks the same, a wholesome innocence grown into a man who is solid, a brother in every sense of the word. For him, danger is the spice of life, like chili salsa on top of your tacos. You decide how much you get.

Me, on the other hand, lost that shine a long time ago. I know that sometimes, the world will pry your jaws open, jam a funnel in between your lips, and pour fiery hot habanero down your throat and there isn’t a damn thing you can do about it. I don’t want to piss on his parade though and let him enjoy his innocence.

He claps his hands once, nice and loud, the grin on his face spreading. “I met the one, man. Remember that car I delivered up to the resort for that tourist? Well, I’m sitting in the lobby waiting for him to come down for his keys and pay the bill, when a vision walks in front of me. Her name’s Alice and she works at the resort.”

“Why haven’t you seen her before?”

“She’s not a local,” TJ explains. “She just wrapped up a degree in hotel and hospitality management and moved down here. The resort’s nice enough to let her stay there, she’s got an apartment she said.”

“She said, huh? So she actually talked to your ugly ass?” I ask, feeling a hint of amusement. “Does she happen to be blind?”

“Fuck you, man,” TJ laughs. “We got to talking, I waited for her break time and we got coffee, and I asked her out. She said yes, and we’re going to dinner this weekend. That’s it, I’m done for bro.”

He flops back in his chair, a fascinated, dreamy look on his face as he stares to the ceiling. Yep, I can see the kittens, unicorns, and rainbows falling out of his ears.

I laugh a little, full of sarcasm. I’m not trying to be an asshole here, but still, I think TJ needs a reality check. “Lemme get this straight, you met this chick, had coffee for a few minutes and you’re already planning the wedding? Yeah, sounds serious.” I snort through my nose, picking up my spoon again. “And everyone says I’m the crazy one.”

TJ gives me a dirty look and I swear he’s about to stick his tongue out at me like we’re six years old again, but he reels it in. “Nah man, when you know, you know. And this one, I just know. She’s it. You’ll see.”

He goes on, telling me practically verbatim every word they said while they drank coffee and I can feel his excitement and joy at the happy road spread out before him. As he does, I’m torn between darkness and light, which just makes me more miserable.

I’m happy for my kid brother, truly, I am. He’s a good guy and while I harass him about it, he’s not ugly or anything. He keeps his shit together. But somewhere deep inside, in a place I don’t want to admit even exists, I’m fucking jealous.

How come he gets the happy ever after and I’m stuck in purgatory, paying for sins I committed long ago on someone else’s orders. How come he gets to smile and sleep through the night and look out on the morning with hope, while I only look at the sunrise and wonder if it’s the last one I see before I go over the edge and get myself killed?

I’d love for just a minute of the peace he feels, but that’s not my path. I’m never gonna have a happy ever after. There’s no woman that would put up with my shit, and I know why. It sounds like new age bullshit, but it’s true, I can’t be loved until I can love myself. It’s hard to love a monster like me though, and honestly I don’t want to inflict my damage on anyone else. I just need to keep the lid on the Pandora’s Box inside me and hope that motherfucker stays shut tight.

I push back from the table, offering a hand to TJ as I school my face into a smile I know is only mildly reminiscent of my real one.

“I’m happy for you. Make sure you invite me to the wedding. I’m uh… I’m gonna go for a ride. I’ll be back later this afternoon, but I’ll finish that brake realignment before I head out tonight.”

I keep the smile just long enough for him to inspect me, make sure I’m okay and not about to crumble. I hate it when he does that, makes me feel like he’s just waiting for the moment I can’t take it anymore.

Finally, he nods “Sure, bro. It’s a beautiful day, and they said they wouldn’t be back to pick it up until Wednesday anyway. Get out there and ride a few miles for me too.”

I know he’s full of shit now, he’s never ridden a motorcycle in his life. It’s another one of the differences between us. I’ve always been the one who pushed the line, from the time we were kids. He was the one who kept his bicycle on the sidewalk while I was the one seeing if that rocky hill was really as dangerous as the other kids said it was. When I built my bike, I offered TJ a ride. His comment was he had no need to strap himself to a death trap.

But maybe that’s exactly why I do it. I’m not the suicidal type, but maybe there’s a part of me that wants to be taken out of this whole equation that is the world. Tempt fate a little bit, dare the Grim Reaper to catch me. After all, if he does it, I didn’t really do anything wrong.

I stalk out to my bike, throwing a leg over the seat and settling my old combat boots on the ground on either side, straddling the machine as I start her up and listen to the grumbling purr. It’s another one of the things I can’t let go of. I always wear combat boots for work or riding.

I look left and right, pulling a big turn across Main Street and pointing my bike towards the mountains. Right as I’m about to twist the throttle and blare out of town, I hear a loud-ass whistle. I jerk my head around, looking for the source and see McKayla standing outside the salon, her eyes locked on me.

I pull over to the curb, pissed at myself for doing it like I’m some damn taxi she just beckoned with that ear-drum busting shrillness. Still, I’ve heard Drill Sergeants that were quieter than that whistle. That’s impressive.

She pops a hip out, one hand shading her eyes from the afternoon sun. “Where you heading, cowboy?”

I don’t know why, but I answer her. “Out. Away. I don’t know. Just away from here.”

She gives me a sassy grin and raises an eyebrow. “Well, which is it? You going out or running away? Ah, I know, maybe it’s a little bit of both.” She nods like she has me all figured out.

I relent, maybe she has got an angle on me here. “Maybe so.”

“Need a chaperone to make sure you do something stupid?” she asks. “I’ve busted my ass six days a week since getting here, and I’m taking an afternoon off.”

I chuckle, leaning back on my bike. “Isn’t a chaperone to make sure you don’t do something stupid?”

She gives me a smirk, and runs a hand seductively over my handlebar mirror. “I think we’ve well-established that I’m not that kind of chaperone. Besides, I can see you need to break some rules right now. So come on, Evan. Let’s go on an adventure.”

She waits, and I realize that she’s willing to go after what she wants, but only so far. She’s not throwing herself at me with no self-esteem. Instead, she’s somehow offering to share her excitement at the things life can offer, even if just for a moment. It’s different than the few women I’ve actually spent time with since getting home. This one is wild, but has standards. Sassy, but classy too.

I think back to TJ and how happy he was about his new girl, and look at the one in front of me. Yeah, this is a bad fucking idea, but the darkness inside me needs it, needs just a little spark of her light to quell the shadows for a little bit. Besides, something’s telling me that maybe I do need her. Just a little bit.

Resigned, I turn and pop open my saddle bag, where I keep a spare brain bucket. Holding it out, I can’t help but lighten the growl in my voice. “Get on.”

Fucking Hell! He doesn’t have to tell me twice. I don’t know what changed today to make him open to a bit of crazy, but I’m not gonna question it. I snatch the half helmet from his hands, pulling the silk scarf from around my neck and tying it around my hair bandana style to lessen the mess this damn thing is sure to bring. I’m slightly surprised he’s got a second helmet at all. But thankfully he does, the last thing I want Evan to get is a damn ticket because I want to let my hair fly a little bit. Well, that and he looks so fucking sexy right now in just his sweaty, grease-streaked tank top, jeans, and helmet that I can practically feel my pussy quivering.

It only takes a momentary look down at my mini-skirt to overcome any worries I might have about looking like a tramp. Fuck it, I hike the damn thing up a little higher than is decent to straddle the seat behind him. I adjust to make sure I’m not flashing anyone, but before I get really settled, he twists the throttle, startling me. “Wha… whoa!”

Evan glances over his shoulder, a sexy taunting smirk on his lips. “Good? Got your helmet on?”

“Go!” I holler as I grab around his waist right as he takes off, offering a huge grin to Brad as I see him glaring open-mouthed at me through the salon window.

Sorry, Brad, but when an opportunity like this presents itself, I gotta roll with it. I know I said I’d answer phones while you saw clients, but you’ll understand!

Besides, I wouldn’t hold it against him if he ditched me for a little fun. Well… not too much at least, and I know I’d get over it! So, oopsie babe. He’ll forgive me though because a hot guy on a bike is always a priority.

We thunder down Main Street, passing by Rose’s boutique, a kitschy ‘general store’ with a older white-haired guy sitting outside on a rocking chair, and several other little storefronts. Once you hit the northern part of town, there’s a lot of tourist trap-looking little places that try and soak up as much tourist dollars from the resort hotel people as they can.

We pass a casino that marks the line between the Native American Reservation land. Evan twists the throttle as we head out, up into the mountains.

We ride for what seems to be hours, and I can feel the tension leave his body incrementally the same way it does mine as we go higher into the forested peaks surrounding the town. I feel at one with the bike and with Evan as we lean into turns, our bodies synchronized with the curves of the road.

Even though we’re probably going a lot faster than the speed limit, I never feel a moment of fear as I squeeze Evan’s waist tight. As my sheer excitement of being behind him settles into a calmness at the freedom of flying down the road, the vibrations between my legs get impossible to ignore. The beastly engine between our legs sends trembles through his seat and the thin layer of my panties, adding to the powerful scent of Evan filling my nostrils. I press my nose closer to his broadly muscled back barely concealed by his black tank top, and the jeans that stretch across his powerful thighs.

I lean forward more, pressing my chest to his back to feel his warmth, his muscles rippling as he rides, the back of his dirty blonde hair whipping back beside me caressing my cheek.

Yep, this might just be the hottest thing I’ve ever done… so far. I arch my back a little, changing the angle of the vibrations between my legs so that the rumbling purr hits right on my clit and I feel it throughout my pussy, knowing I’ve soaked my panties and probably going to leave a spot on his seat.

I have a twinge of embarrassment at the thought, but then decide I rather like marking my territory, even if it’s just for a passing moment. We keep riding, far out of town into the mountains that line the landscape and he pulls over in a gravel parking lot. Looking around, the first thing I notice is that this place looks like an abandoned gas station, one of those old time country stops that probably closed up when people started taking Interstates everywhere.

The second thing that hits me is the immense beauty of where we are. I can’t hear anything except the twitter of birds, the soft rush of mountain breezes, and far away, maybe somewhere below us… water. “Where are we?”

“Come on,” Evan says, getting off the bike and taking my hand. “Let me show you what sometimes keeps me from going insane.”

I follow him, glad I’m not wearing the highest of my high heels but still walking gingerly as we cross the lot. We go around the side, and I see an overgrown path disappearing into a line of trees. “You’re kidding.”

“Don’t worry,” Evan says with a chuckle. “It’s not far. Just about a hundred feet.”

I follow him, stepping as he does, suddenly aware that there could be snakes in an area like this. Sure, they may not like dealing with jeans and combat boots like Evan’s wearing, but high heels and stockings? Yeah, zero fucks given there.

We step through the line of trees and all of my worries disappear as we step into what I can only describe as a slice of paradise. We’re on the edge of a small clearing, maybe fifty feet across and less than twenty deep, the other side ending in a cliff face that drops off vertically. I have a spectacular view of a valley below us, with a lake at the bottom. The water I hear is a hydroelectric dam creating an artificial waterfall that drops off out of my sight to the right. “My god.”

“Yeah,” Evan says, sitting down on the grass. “I’ve brought TJ up here, but he doesn’t understand.”

I can’t say I totally understand either, but that doesn’t matter. I sit down next to him, just taking it all in. We stay there, and as the sun begins to dip lower into the afternoon sky, there’s a warm orange glow surrounding us. I lay my cheek against his back, taking in the lovely view with a hum of appreciation.

After a moment, he growls, shrugging. “Get off.”

I’m flustered, the hardness of his voice unexpected in the peaceful quiet moment, but I do as he says half-wondering if he’s going to just leave me here. I still haven’t heard anything but the rush of water below us or the twitter of the birds.

Evan gets up and storms out of the clearing, and I follow him as best I can. “Evan, come on. If I break a heel I swear I’m going to….”

Evan gets to his bike and leans against it sideways, his thick arms crossed over his chest. He looks like a fucking sex god in the afternoon light, and I stop, my heart speeding up and my still tingling pussy screaming at me THIS! NOW!

His eyes are full of fire, and his voice is gravel as he says, “C’mere.”

I step forward before my mind even registers the command. I just know that there’s nothing I want more than to run my hands over the muscles straining against the thin cotton of his tank top, or to taste the sweat glistening on his skin.

He pins me with his eyes, snarling as I get close enough that he pulls me against him. “What are you doing, Princess? You think I couldn’t feel you rubbing your nipples into my back, moaning as you ground your sweet little pussy against the seat behind me? How many times did you come, Princess?”

I flush, catching the nickname that irks me but I’m still embarrassed. I didn’t come, but damn if I don’t want to.

He moves a hand to the strap of my top, slowly watching as he slides it off my shoulder. I’m not wearing a bra underneath, it’s one of those clingy tops that they say don’t need a bra. I think he’s giving me time to say no, but that’s sure as fuck not happening.

Or maybe he’s trying to stop himself. With that thought in mind, I arch, lifting my tits up in offering to tease him. “They’re even softer once you take them the rest of the way out.”

He grabs me roughly around my waist, pulling me to him and just before he touches me, he looks into my eyes. “You sure you want this? I ain’t offering anything but right now. You know that, right?”

I thread my fingers through his hair, pulling him to my breast. He needs this. Fuck, I need this. “Evan, quit thinking. Let’s just have an adventure…”

Motorhead is coming November 9th! Add it to your Goodreads TBR !