Okay, so where should I put his clean laundry?

After way too long debating it, I settled for a neat pile on top of my dresser.

It was time to head out to the Forker family game night slash ‘thank goodness Ella was not-raped-by-her-uncle’ celebration.

I’d already closed the salon and was with Pudge, the tall ginger biker with the long beard that was standing sentry after the Paige scene.

Pudge wasn’t pudgy. He was super slim, so I guessed the nickname was sarcasm. Pudge was also a definite felon who had no qualms about using a gun. When we got into the apartment after he walked me up from the salon, he’d put a big-ass knife and two guns on my coffee table before putting his boots on the table and sitting back with my remote.

I didn’t bother telling him to get his boots off my table, like I’d have told Scooter, Bronto, or even Bad Ass Jesse. Pudge could keep his boots on my table if he wanted to.

He was a man of few words, but he’d told me he’d moved here from Bismarck a week and a half before to help take down those “Lowlife ass wipe jack wagons”.

He said he’d been in the Doms for eight years, since he got out of ‘state’ and I knew ‘state’ didn’t refer to state college; it referred to the state prison. He was a definite badass, had all sorts of mean tattoos, but he was good protector material. I felt safe. I wished he’d been there when Bronto got shot in the ass. I doubted Ella would’ve gotten taken from Pudge.

Then again, maybe they would’ve shot to kill instead of to maim if it hadn’t been a prospect there that day.

He’d only brought his motorcycle, though, and I was apparently not allowed to ride on the back of a bike that wasn’t my ‘old man’s’, so he drove my car and we went to Ella’s.

I didn’t want to take my car. I didn’t want my mother to see it parked at Ella’s. And I couldn’t talk Pudge into parking down the street, so she wouldn’t see it. I tried to explain that I was hiding from my mother and he looked at me like I was loony tunes.

I gave up the argument and went inside, seeing a houseful in the Forker kitchen. All the extension leaves were in the table, taking it from being big enough to seat a dozen to making room for another half a dozen. There were at least fifteen chairs around it. Several were lawn chairs brought in from the garage. The Rummoli board was in the middle.

I had a tote bag with my Rummoli jar of pennies, nickels, dimes, and quarters, and saw three other jars on the table. The kitchen counter was set up with a cheese and cracker tray, a bowl of chips, Ella’s nacho dip, Rob’s crab dip, a big crock pot that looked to be filled with pulled pork, two big bags of buns,  and two foil-covered cookie sheets lined up with toasted submarine sandwiches cut into thirds, that looked and smelled like Ella’s meatball subs (which rocked).

Pudge immediately went to the food. I sat down between Ella’s Dad’s friend Jase and Spencer. People wandered in from the garage and elsewhere in the house and Ella came over and hugged me and then sat on the other side of Spencer, her big jar of change in front of her. And then the rest of the group filed in from the garage, last of which was Rider. He sat across the table from me and his eyes landed on me.

My heart hurt at the stone-cold look on his face. I wanted to flee.

But, I couldn’t. People bought change from my jar to gamble with, including Rider, as Ella’s and her mom’s jars were much lighter than usual, and then Ella explained the rules of the game to the Valentines and ended with,

“Let the betting begin!”

The mood was jovial, other than Rider and me.  Most of us played, but Rob’s friends watched, coming in and out of the garage, bouncing between watching us, and congregating around the food-filled counter. We played a few hands, and then I won a big hand and my mood shifted and I did a little happy chair-dance over my healthy-looking pile of pennies and nickels, which was probably less than $2, but it was the win itself, not the size of the win. I’d been playing this game almost monthly since I was a kid, so I took Rummoli seriously. 

The next hand, after my $2ish win, I had a full house: two fives and three threes, so I started betting.

Everyone playing (there were eight of us) passed, except for Deke, who raised me. Rider raised him. I raised it. Deke opted out. Rider raised it again. I raised it again, with a death-challenge in my eyes.

Finally, he threw a set of keys on the center of the board.

I stared at them, confused.

“My Harley.”

“Your Harley? Over a card game?” I was astounded.

This wasn’t about the card game. But it was a stupid bet. And the room knew. They were all watching The Jenna and Rider Show with avid fascination.

“Yeah,” he bit off.

“I don’t have a Harley to bet with,” I snapped, my voice filled with venom.

Why was he being so ridiculous?

“I got an idea.” He pulled his phone out of his jeans pocked and typed something. My ass binged. I reached for my phone and pulled it out.

“You win, you get my Harley. I win, you give me control tonight. One night. My rules.”

I put my phone face down on the table and glared at him.

He was waiting. His eyes were ablaze with anger. The room was waiting.

“No fair,” Ella pouted. “Secret bets are not fair.”

“I can imagine what it says,” Spencer shrugged.

“Jenna will tell me later.” Ella said, resigned.

I shook my head. “Fold.” My shoulders slumped.

“Chicken shit,” Rider said, his eyes still angry.

My anger returned, and I glared.

“There she goes again, writing checks she has no intention of cashin’…” Rider mused, being an absolute prick about it.

“No. Cancel my fold. Call,” I said, angrily and dropped my cards on the table, face up.

He gave me an evil smile and then dropped his cards.

Shit. Shit. Damn. Straight flush.

Damn. No.

Spencer hissed. “Ooooh. What’d he win?”

Spencer tried to grab my phone. I grabbed it first, and shoved it in my pocket, my face going red.

“Let’s break for food,” Deacon suggested. “One of those meatball sandwiches is callin’ my name.” He moved to the counter.

Rider scooped up his big pile of winnings and kept it in front of him and gave me a look of promise.

“Need a drink, Rider?” Ella asked.

“I’ll get one, thanks, Ella,” he said to her, but his eyes were still on me and flirty and … holy shit, I had to cross my legs. My body reacted in a way that… I was tempted to drag him out of here.

But, then his expression changed, and it was cold and angry, and a bucket of ice water was thrown on my libido.

Was I going to be treated to an actual hate fuck?

A real one? How bad would it be?

I felt sick.

“Gettin’ some food, Jennabean?” Rob asked.

“Yeah, of course.”

“Made my famous chili and my pulled pork.” He gestured toward the kitchen counter and I noticed Pudge ladling out a big bowl of chili from another crockpot I hadn’t clocked yet.

Pudge hadn’t been playing cards. He hadn’t even gone out to the smoking area with the others when they’d gone. He’d been grazing at the counter the whole time. I was getting a good idea of why he was nicknamed Pudge. Maybe he should’ve been nicknamed Tapeworm. I didn’t verbalize that thought. I moved to the food and made up a plate with a tiny bit of everything so that no feelings would be hurt.

Rider was beside me.

“Got you a drink. Come sit,” Ella said to me, walking by with two cans of Pepsi and one can of Coke in her arms.

“Fuel up, Starlet,” he whispered in my ear, leaning over me to grab a napkin. “You’re gonna be burnin’ a lotta calories tonight.”

My blood went hot. My face went red.

I moved away from him and went to the living room and sat on the couch beside Ella, who had Deacon on the other side.

Ella gave me a big-eyed look. “I think you’re in trouble, sister…”

I gave her big eyes back and then rolled my eyes as if it was no biggie.

But, shit. I had no appetite. None.

***

After the game finally ended, Ella’s mom Bertie the winner, I couldn’t find Pudge. I was in the garage, peering at the driveway. My car was gone.

I felt a bit panicky.

“Let’s go,” Rider said to me under his breath, on his way past me as he headed outside.

My panic levels escalated. I stood there, feeling like I was under a cloud of impending doom.

“G’night Pinkie,” Deke gave me a quick hug.

I must’ve had horror all over my face.

Spencer was in my space, giving me a hug and whispering, “Have a good night, payin’ your debts.”

I laughed nervously and tried to play it off like it was no big deal, but I felt like my knees were knocking together when I headed down the driveway after saying bye to everyone.

He was sitting on his motorcycle, waiting for me, a helmet in his hand. An unreadable expression on his face.

Shit. I was afraid of this.

His motorcycle. My chariot. My chariot awaited me, to take me to… where? The pits of Hell?

He got off the bike and put my helmet on me, buckling it up, looking into my eyes with a smug smirk that was evident even though it was dark out.

Rob, Uncle Lou, and Jase stumbled off into the night, saying their goodnights as they headed somewhere on foot. Rob’s buds both lived in the neighborhood, so I guessed they were going to one of their houses.

I glanced at my parents’ house and all the lights were off, only Mom’s car in the driveway. It was after midnight. Had Dad already moved out? Wait. Was he giving up the house? This was his childhood home. He couldn’t move out! I felt even more panicked. She’d sell it in a heartbeat. I had visions of catching my kids at the bottom of that big wide polished painted white wood banister, letting them slide down it as much as they wanted. Once they were old enough to do it safely, of course.

“Get on,” Rider said, no growled.

I hadn’t told him about my folks, so maybe he thought my increased registering horror was only about him.

I climbed on and he started up the bike and then he rocketed away, making me grab him and hold on for dear life.

He drove back to my place too dangerously for my tastes, and I didn’t enjoy that ride. At all. In fact, it was scary!

When he parked, and I got off, I started shouting.

“You trying to get us killed?”

He had a scowl on his face as he got off the bike.

“You’re an asshole, Rider Valentine!” I stormed up the stairs to my apartment.

“Yeah, well, you’re bein’ a bitch, Genevieve Maybelle Murdoch.”

“God, you’re such a jerk,” I hissed and slammed my bedroom door in his face.

He opened it and was in there with me. “Don’t forget, Genevieve, you have a debt to pay. Get undressed.”

I stopped in my tracks. “You’re gonna make me do this?”

“A bet’s a bet.”

I glared at him. “You can’t be serious. Making a girl who can barely stand you, fuck you?”

“A bet’s a bet. My rules. And serious as a heart attack.” He undid his pants and pulled his belt out of the loops.  He held the halved belt in his hand. I stared at it in horror.

“Get undressed.”

Oh my God. What was he gonna do with that belt?

This was it. I’d pay my debt tonight. Fine. All right then.

And, that would work Rider Valentine straight out of my system. Like the flush of a toilet. Whoosh. Gone.

Asshole!

I was wearing a cute cornflower blue babydoll tee, faded boyfriend jeans, and my baby blue Converse slip-ons, no socks. I kicked my shoes off and then undid and dropped my jeans. I threw my shirt off angrily, momentarily getting stuck in it. I was wearing a baby blue thong and a white lacy bra. I stared at him and blew my hair out of my eyes.

He took in my body hungrily with his gaze and then he threw his brown Henley over his head and dropped it, then dropped his dark blue button fly jeans. I noticed that the pile of clean clothes on my dresser had shrunk and realized the brown Henley was one I’d folded after laundering it the day before.

He took a step toward me and grabbed for my ass cheeks, pulling me to him.

I looked up at him, holding my elbows with opposite hands, not looking down at his nakedness.

“You wanna go do anything to get ready for bed, do it now.” His voice was husky. He gave my ass a squeeze and let go.

I backed away from him and went into my bathroom and shakily washed my makeup off and brushed my teeth.

I was so shaky. What was I in for tonight? What would I endure before flushing the rest of him out of my mind forever? I heard Luke “Lick” Hanson’s voice in my head.

“Yeah, you fuckin’ whore, we’re gonna fuck all your holes until    they bleed.”

I finally went back into my room, not able to procrastinate further. The lights were out, and he was in my bed. I left the bathroom light on and closed the door half way. It was probably too bright, but I needed to see. I needed to make sure that I got the full affect of his anger so that I would be able to flush these feelings away.

He threw the blanket over and patted my side.

I climbed in, still in my bra and panties, not knowing for how long.

He tossed the corner so that the blanket floated down on top of me, then he pulled me to him and kissed me. I braced, but it was slow, sweet, gentle. I was stiff at first, but eventually melted into it.

And then I pulled back to catch my breath.

“First rule,” he whispered, “No pulling back.”

“What other rules do I have?” I asked, haughtily.

“No other rules,” he whispered, and his mouth was on mine again.

He kissed me briefly this time and then pulled me close. My head was on his shoulder, his arm wrapped around my waist.

And… nothing.

He was just lying there.

My eyebrows furrowed in confusion. I stayed put. He pulled me closer. Okay, I was braced for whatever was about to happen.

He sifted his hand through my hair and kissed the top of my head and pulled me over more so that my head was on his heart.

And there was that sound again. The sound of his heart beating.

A minute went by.

Two.

Three.

“Rider?” I asked.

“Hm?”

“What… what is this?”

“Go to sleep, gorgeous.”

I blinked.

“What kind of game is this?” My voice was barely a croak.

“No game,” he said.

“Bullshit,” I snapped.

“No bullshit, Jenna.”

My chest was burning. There was this searing pain in my shoulders, this… aching. It ached so much.

Don’t cry, Jenna. No tears!

His hand sifted sweetly through my hair again.

I lifted up on an elbow and looked down at his face, which I could see well due to that bathroom light.

“Are you serious?”

“A hundred per cent.”

I blinked.

But…

How could I get him out of my head if he wasn’t going to hate fuck these feelings right away… if he wasn’t going to make me actually hate him?

“You won the bet,” I whispered.

“Yeah,” he agreed.

“And you’re not gonna make me actually…” I let that hang.

“I get what I want tonight from you. This is what I want.”

I didn’t know how to decode this.

What the fudge was he playing at?

I scratched my head and gave my head a shake.

“You wouldn’t have really taken my Harley if you’d won, would ya?”

“Fuck yeah!” I said without hesitation.

Laughter burst out of him. Hard, unabashed, and fucking beautiful. He rolled me and pinned me. He was he was kissing me breathless.

I started kissing him back. And then I couldn’t take it anymore. I rolled him and climbed onto him and thrust my hands into his hair.

“We don’t have to do this tonight,” he said.

“I want to,” I said and undid the clasp at the front of my bra and threw it off. His eyes went right to my boobs.

I climbed off, peeled my panties off, and then climbed back on, lined him up and slowly lowered myself until he was all the way inside.

He threw his hands over his head and watched, eyes heated.

I ran my hands up and down his chest, played with his nipple piercing, and then I started to pick up the pace. And then I slowed, going slow, deep, circling.

“You gonna take yourself there?” he asked, his voice almost guttural.

I nodded enthusiastically and put my hand at our connection and began to rub both of us. My other hand went to his nipple and toyed with it. I started going faster, circling with my hips, throwing my head back as I absorbed the sensations, how good he felt. I took myself, with my fingers, to the edge. I looked down at him and he was watching, looking possessed with lust, his knuckles braced against my mauve headboard, his biceps straining, like he was fighting against taking over, the way he wanted to do.

I grabbed his hands and weaved his fingers with mine, and started rocking harder, faster, bigger circles, tightening my inner walls, and he let out an almost roar as we rocked so hard my headboard started thudding against the wall.

We came together.

I finished with my face buried in his throat.

My eyes were shut tight, my heart hammering with a threat to fly right out of my chest, and his hands sweetly ran up and down my back.

He kissed my throat and gently moved my hair, which was all over his face, out of the way, getting it into a ponytail in his fist and tugging so that I had to look at his face.

Rider likes it rough.  But, he can also be incredibly sweet.  You could say that he pulls my hair. And my heart strings, too.

I was smiling, I think. Blissed out.

“Had a feeling this was how it’d go down.”

“Hm?” I asked, still recovering from a definite top 3 orgasm ever.

“You. This. You wanted it. You played your little game pretending you didn’t. But you wanted me. As soon as I backed off, I knew this’d happen.”

My heart dropped.

Another game.

My expression must’ve dropped, too.

“It’s okay, however we got here, gorgeous. It’s all okay by me.”

Well, it wasn’t okay by me.

“Everything is a game to you,” I choked out.

He shook his head. “No.” He let go of my hair.

“It is. It’s all a fucking joke.” I started to pull away.

“Get back here…” he sounded angry.

“Fuck you.”

“Listen to me…”

“No. Screw off.”

“Jenna! Fuckin’ listen to me!”

I stopped and waited to see what he was going to say.

This game we were playing? I didn’t know how would end. He was systematically breaking down my walls. On one hand I wanted him to stop. Go away. Dirty rotten scoundrel. On the other, everyone gives up on me, eventually, and part of me doesn't want him to give up on me, ever. His ‘no matter how hard you fight, I don’t give up until you submit” was kind of endearing.  

 

But this?  Did this guy take anything seriously? Jojo said he used humor to deflect. But, come on. This was ridiculous.

He was just staring. Smiling.

I shook my head in disgust.

“Go find your next conquest. I’m not playing games anymore, Rider.”

“Me neither, Jenna. Stopped bein’ fun. No more games that aren’t fun. Let’s shake on that.”

“What?”

“You’ve been playing your games, too. Pushing me away, I let you think it’s workin’ and then you panic and try to reel me in again. Keep me hooked, right?”

 

“I’m not playing games.”

 

“Maybe you don’t think you are, baby, but you are. And you’re getting really predictable.”

 

“Monogamy, monotony?” I challenged, pulling the blanket up to cover my nakedness.

 

“Nothing even remotely monotonous about you, beautiful. Even when I can predict your next move.”

I sighed.

“No more games. How ‘bout we both agree to that. You give this an actual honest chance.”

“I gave it a chance, but…”

“You gave up at the first sign of trouble, babe. You were lookin’ for a reason to give up from the start and I wasn’t even close to lookin’ for an out. Not once. I was getting deeper by the minute. Any idea how much that hurt?”

I blinked. I was hurting him? No. I was protecting myself, so he wouldn’t hurt me. There was a lump in my throat. God, I didn’t want to hurt him.

I shook my head, dumbfounded.  “So, okay, how does this go, then? I stop letting you chase me, I let you catch me, and then you get bored?”

He froze.

“This still a game to you?” he clipped. “Even right now?”

“Seems like you want games, Rider Valentine. If I wanna keep you, I have to play, keep things interesting, right?”

He growled in my face, “This isn’t a fucking game. Not anymore. Fight, don’t fight. Either way, I’m not letting up on you, I’m not letting you slip through my fingers. Ever.”

“Stalker,” I scoffed and jumped out of bed and headed toward the door, figuring I could grab my robe from the hook on the back of it. Go sleep on the couch or in Pippa’s bed if she wasn’t home again.

“Not joking, Jenna.” He caught my arm and wouldn’t let me pull away.

“Why are you doing this?”

“You know why.”

“I do?” I looked at him bewildered.

“You know you do.”

“I don’t, Rider. I really, really fucking don’t.” 

He moved into my space, pinning me with his body against the door and he went from looking on the verge of rage to sweet.

“Because I love you, gorgeous. The wild parts, the sweet parts. The bitchy parts. All your parts.” He grabbed my ass into both hands.

He loves me? Loves me?

I couldn’t even blink for the longest time. Until I finally did. And that was the third time that I, Genevieve “Jenna” Maybelle Murdoch, cried in front of a boy.

“Why would you love me? I’m a materialistic biker-bigot dead lay.” Tears streamed down my cheeks.

“No.” He shook his head and put his thumbs to my cheeks to catch the tears. “You’re high maintenance, but I’ve decided that it’s worth it. You’re generous. You give so much. And you’re getting better in bed every time I fuck you. I’m clearly an excellent fuckin’ teacher, because you’re getting seriously good at it. Though, you’re not through training yet. Got at least 1000 more lessons for ya. Then we’ll see where you’re at.”

I closed my eyes tight and planted my face in his chest. He walked me back to the bed and we tumbled down onto it and he wrapped me up in the blanket and kept his arms around me.

“You don’t love me,” I whispered.

“I just said I did.”

I shook my head. “You’re so m-mean.”

“Mean?” He sounded amused as I was crying into his chest.

“How am I mean?”

“You do all these things, all these crazy sweet things after breaking my heart telling me I sucked in bed.”

“But, you did, babe.”

I laughed. And he laughed too, and wiped my tears.

“But you don’t suck now, Jenna.” He kissed my mouth. “If I didn’t say anything you’d just keep taking what I give you and just fuckin’ lie there. At least when you were fighting me off, you were doing something. And you’re really fuckin’ good at it when you hate fuck me.”

“You hate fucked me first and that wasn’t nice, either.”

“That wasn’t even a hate fuck. I made a joke. One of these days, you’re probably gonna piss me off enough for us to have some serious angry sex, but what I’m startin’ to see from you, I could see you intentionally pissin’ me off just to get that. You’ll get off on it that much.”

I gave him a twisted-up expression. “Uh. I doubt it.”

“We’ll see.”

“Maybe I should make you edge and beg for it.”

“Maybe you should.” He squeezed me tighter. “Maybe you should think up all sorts of fun sex games for us. I’m already making my list.”

I started to laugh.

What a crazy night. Crazy few days. No weeks.

My laugh melted away and I was feeling all sorts of feels all through me.

He loves me?

He’d never been in a serious relationship before and a few weeks into this, he decides he loves me?

Could I trust this?

“Jenna,” he said, sounding serious.

I looked up at his face and then wiped the tears, which were blurring my vision, away.

“I’m not joking. Every day I see something I seriously fuckin’ dig with you. Something new every day. Scoot’s been giving me reports, you know. All the guys. They’ve all got good things to say.”

“Except Jesse,” I said.

“Even Jesse. You’re a good person. A great fuckin’ person. Stuff you do for your friends. Your customers. Me.”

“I’ve been a pain in your ass,” I muttered.

“Yeah. But watching you push me away was entertaining. You make me laugh. You keep me warm at night. So fuckin’ sweet the way you snuggle up to me. You did my laundry even when you were pissed. I seriously dig your towels and your sheets. You clean up my messes. You defended me to your Ma, even when you were furious with me. Looked like you wanted to take my own mother on a few times to defend me. You took my sister under your wing like she was as close to you as Ella and you’d just met her. You even defended Gia just because Joelle said she was good people. The way you were there for me during the funeral? Shit. Yeah, and you’re very, very easy on the eyes.”

I rolled my eyes, but I had a smile on my face.

“I love you, Genevieve Maybelle Murdoch.”

I choked on a sob.

He smiled at me.

“Please don’t break my heart.”

His smile slipped.

“Please don’t.” I was sobbing, then began rambling auctioneer-fast again. “I don’t even cry in front of guys, because I got hurt when I was seventeen and I gave him my V-card and he was screwing a bunch of other girls when we were supposed to go off together in his VW bus after high school and he made fun of my crying in front of the whole school, so I’ve been so careful since then. Every guy I date gives up because I’m high maintenance. And because I keep them at arms’ length and I try to be the good time girl. The fun girl. But, inside I’m just… my mother doesn’t love me. She’s always been disappointed in me and hated my grandmother Genevieve, and when she calls me that name it’s just to remind me she finds me such a disappointment, so please don’t call me that. And my father doesn’t love her. He told me the other day they’re separating and I’m afraid she’s gonna go postal and eviscerate him and me. And I just---I love you, too. Like I’ve never loved anyone.”

He looked surprised.

I ran my thumb across that pillowy lower lip of his. “You take care of me. And no one ever has. And you’re sweet and charismatic and make me laugh, and you are so fucking handsome you take my breath away. I love that you’re tall and your eyes just do me in. The best sex I’ve ever had, Rider, even if some of it is way freaky-deaky.”

He chuckled.

I kept talking. “You make me let go in a way that no one ever has before. I want that rainbow, that joyride with you… so much. I try to be a good time girl but inside I’m such a fuck-up because of how my house was growing up. And I want lots of kids and a big family and to spoil them all with love, not stuff. And I want them to ride the banisters and laugh as loud as they want, and do backwards somersaults if they want to.”

“Then that’s exactly what you’re gonna have,” he vowed. “Gymnastics classes for all of them.”

Wow, that was a whole lot of verbal diarrhea.

“I can’t believe I just said all that,” I announced with a wince.

He shook his head. “Don’t you ever be afraid to say anything to me.”

I gulped.

“Why didn’t you tell me your parents were splitting? Has that been fuckin’ with you on top of everything else?”

I nodded.

“I’m also worried about Pip. Joe’s off the wagon and she’s not in a good place. She’s trying to help him detox. And last year, he beat her up when he was drunk. She forgave him after six months clean and gave him another shot. But, I don’t know if it’s good that she’s still with him. If he did that last time?”

Rider went stiff.

I sighed. I was suddenly exhausted. And yet exhilarated. I felt like I’d been through a war. Had I made it to the other side?

I looked at him.

He caressed my face and then he started talking, looking impossibly deep into my eyes.

“My head’s been fucked for a while. Shit was rough with my parents splitting. Joelle’s paternity. My mother’s cheating with the enemy and all that shit. She’s a fuck up.”

I was all ears. He was opening up. Jojo said he didn’t open up. But he did with me after Lick’s funeral, and he was doing it now, too.

“I have a lotta guilt about Lick. Had it before he died. Those years he lost when I shoulda lost the same years and didn’t. Tried to make it up to him when he got out. We got in so much shit together, makin’ up for that lost time. And now he’s gone.”

I caressed his face.

“Never knew how it’d be having someone. All I saw with my folks was him giving, her taking. Her fucking him over. Deacon got repeatedly fucked over by women, too. Spencer wanting love and getting rejected whenever he put himself out there.”

I nodded.

“And then when D was ready to go all in with Ella?   Seeing what they were building? I wanted something like that. Thought maybe we’d have it. Me and you. I didn’t know if it was a pipe dream.”

“Relationships can be hard.”

He smiled. “I see that.”

“Especially when you try to build one with a drama queen high maintenance pain in your ass.”

He hooked a hand around my neck and brought his lips to mine and then he kissed my forehead, too.

“You’re worth it. The moments we’ve had when things haven’t been caught up in drama. Even some of those. I see what I’ll have with you. If you let me.”

“I want to.”

I snuggled in and we were quiet a minute.

He loved me. He was opening up. I was, too. This was amazing.

“Can we go for a ride?” I asked.

He smiled. “Absolutely. This is another reason I’m in love with you.”

God. He was so sweet sometimes.

We got dressed and gassed up at the local Circle J. And then he drove until dawn, me wrapped around him, him taking us down all sorts of winding roads, on the highway, through the country.

When the sun was up, we went to a nearby diner for pancakes.

Deacon and Ella were there. But, they looked like they’d rolled out of bed and come.

“You two are up and about early for a Sunday!” she exclaimed as we approached their table, holding hands. She looked at our hands and gave me a huge smile.

Sunday was typically my only sleep-in day.

“We haven’t been to bed yet,” I informed her and reached down and scooped a strawberry off her waffle and popped it in my mouth.

She smirked.

We sat down and ate with them, mine and Ella’s very first biker double date. And then Rider and I went back home and made slow sweet kissing-one-another-everywhere love before falling asleep. And since it was Sunday and I didn’t have to open the salon that day, we slept almost all day.