I was having trouble getting ahold of Ella. And I very much needed to talk to her about her ‘beautiful biker’. The things I’d heard the day after the bar were twice as bad as what I’d heard when I was already concerned.

When I finally felt somewhat human on Hangover Sunday, Joe and Pippa were having a quiet night in front of the TV. I hung out with them and while we ate Chinese take-out, they told me all about the Night of Terror on The Terrace.

Rider’s brother Deacon was bad news. Bad, bad news. Super jealous and abusive, according to Joe who’d heard that from Spencer, the youngest brother.

It was looking like I’d landed myself the right brother. The middle one. But, he hadn’t come back up when he got back to get his car. Joe said he hadn’t said much that morning.

All we knew about these guys so far was that the oldest one, Deacon, was a possessive stalker psycho. Sure, he’d saved Ella from the armed robbery, but that didn’t mean he was boyfriend material. Spencer, the youngest brother? He was a coke-head loudmouth asshole.

I’d heard a few things at the bar the night before that had me concerned as it was, but my concern went from the yellow zone to the burning white-hot zone when Pip filled me in.

While me and my beautiful biker were doing the dance with no pants, Pippa, Joe, Spencer, and a few other friends from the bar were over, having a fire, drinking beers, and chillaxing on the rooftop terrace. Lara and Andre had even come by.

All of us ‘roof’ people, as we were known, were like moths to a flame whenever one of the other rooftop dwellers had a fire. The party went on until nearly dawn. But things didn’t stay in the chill zone, though, when Deacon arrived and beat up Spencer and then dangled him from the part of the roof where the railings hadn’t yet been put up.  I needed to get that shit put up, stat.

I also needed to talk to Ella, faster than stat, about the things that Spencer had reportedly said about Deacon and how possessive and abusive he was in relationships.

I was freaked right out by the idea that my best friend could wind up with a guy like that. Someone who would hurt her or make her afraid. I’d never seen her as excited about a guy as I had with Deacon. She would be heartbroken. But, she needed to know.

I also needed to be careful. If Deacon was what he sounded like and Spencer was a Coke-head, could I trust that Rider was really a good guy?

***

I can’t lie and say I didn’t care that Rider didn’t call me Sunday. I cared. I would appear nonchalant on the outside, but as that saying goes, inside, I was ‘chalant as fuck’.

Late Monday morning, I demanded Ella come into the salon, which she did, and I told her what I’d heard about Deacon. She didn’t wanna hear it and was ready to cover her ears and pull a “La la la”, on me, so I had to do some quick blurting. Because, it was important. 

I’d heard Rider’s brother had put a girl in the hospital. And that he’d done time in jail for beating another girlfriend’s brother almost to death. And while they’d been partying on my terrace, not only had Deacon beat the daylights out of Spencer and dangled him from the roof, but Spencer had also said that was because he’d been hitting on Ella. He’d also said that another girl had left the country to get away from Deacon’s possessive ways.

My bestie needed to know all this, whether she wanted to or not. And I took no joy whatsoever in telling her, watching her expression drop like someone had kicked a puppy.  The vision of us being sisters by bikerly association was fading fast.

Boo.

And then she’d told me that her ex, who turning out to be like a bad smell that just wouldn’t go away, was more than just a stalker-weird problem. He didn’t smell bad. He looked like a catch, actually. Good-looking, good job. Tall. Nice hair. But, he wasn’t a catch. Good looks were where Jay Smyth’s good qualities ended.

Deacon had warned her that Jay had been saying some pretty personal sex stuff about Ella in public and he had a right to be protective after that, but with all the other stuff we’d heard about Deacon, Pippa and I both agreed that Ella needed to protect herself where Deacon was concerned. No way would Ella put up with some guy with a track record of beating up women.

And Ella told us that Deacon had pilfered her keys Saturday night and used them to sneak in Sunday night. She’d woken up with him in bed with her! All of this freaked me out even more. I was worried for her.

When she was on her way out, shoulders slumped, and clearly broken-hearted, I told her I’d try to broach the subject with Rider carefully, to see what he thought of Deacon’s history with women. But chances were, she wouldn’t care. The info we had was enough to disqualify him as boyfriend material.

I didn’t want this thing with them to muddy our waters, so I would try to be Switzerland with Rider about it. But, when it all boiled down to it, Ella was my best friend. She came first.

***

Later Monday afternoon, I heard the roar of motorcycle pipes and it was so loud I turned my attention to the street. I saw several bikers with Dominion Brotherhood vests on, riding past the salon. But, I didn’t see him.

That was when I got a text from my mother, reminding me to contact Daniel Sotheby.

I wrote Daniel Sotheby a text immediately afterwards. I needed this over with.

“Hey, Daniel? This is Jenna Murdoch. My Mother and your uncle are trying to play matchmaker - they want us to meet. I’m kind of swamped this week but can probably squeeze in a fast coffee. Unless you’re not game, in which case we can pretend we met and just didn’t hit it off.”

He answered almost immediately.

“Good to hear from you, Jenna. I saw your photo and heard a lot about you and I’d love to meet for a drink. Whenever you have time, let me know. Here’s my photo.”

I stared at the screen and I was pleasantly surprised. Glasses. And sexy. And he looked pretty buff. This was totally my type.  He was in a nice suit. He had a tan that didn’t look like a fake ‘n’ bake tan. He had dark wavy hair and blue eyes. Daniel Sotheby totally had a Henry Cavill-Clark Kent thing going on.

Mom did good; looks-wise, anyway.

But the thing was, I was thinking Oh, he’s kind of movie star gorgeous. And yet, I couldn’t get my mind off the guy who’d dipped me Hollywood style and called me Gorgeous.

The guy who’d kissed my neck and did that thing with his tongue…and that thing with his dick. And even that thing with his tongue in my fanny.

I felt my blood get hot at the memory, and weirdly, not in a grossed-out way.

And how he sang in my ear. And danced like we were a couple of pros from Dancing with the Stars.

He was in my head.  He was under my skin.

I was standing there, holding my phone, my eyes closed and warmth washing over me.

I had it bad. This was not good. It was especially not good that he hadn’t called.

I had an idea what my life would look like with a biker like that. My parents would hate him.  But life with him might be like life at Ella’s house versus life with Daniel Sotheby, who would fit right in at my parent’s stuffy country club. A place where I didn’t particularly want to fit in.

I didn’t want to go for coffee with Daniel. I didn’t wanna spend my spare time at the country club rubbing elbows with snobs. I wanted to ride on the back of Rider’s motorcycle, arms around his waist. I wanted to live in my parents’ house with a husband and kids, but take the stuffiness down a notch so that it looked good but had the feel of Ella’s house where there was laughter, family game nights, being real. And kisses and hugs and where you were allowed to screw up sometimes and where things didn’t have to be 100% perfect all the time.

I shook myself back to reality and replied to him.

“Super busy today but I’ll get in touch in a few days and we’ll set a time. Cheers.”

“I look forward to it.” was his reply.

I put my phone down and all thoughts of Daniel Sotheby left my head. Thoughts of Rider, though? They were in my mind more than I would ever want to admit to him.

***

It was Tuesday. I was at the biker bar and a little bit drunk, being biker eye-candy, but not for Rider. He wasn’t there.  Plenty of other bikers were and several of them had been watching me with what looked like avid interest.

The bartender put six cherries into my drink and gave me a wink.   He remembered.

I liked Deke’s Roadhouse.

I came in wearing a swingy skirt and a tight top, and very high heels.

Pippa kept looking at her watch, wanting us to go. She told me she had plans to meet Joe at our place at 8:00 and it was already 7:45. I was taking my time with this drink, hoping Rider would show up.

Pippa muttered, “Drink up. I wanna go! Goin’ pee.” She wandered to the bathroom.

I figured, let Joe wait a bit. He had a key to our apartment and he never hesitated to make himself at home when Pip wasn’t there. This was all I had going tonight.  Trying to catch Rider’s eye. Wherever he might be.

Deacon walked in and headed toward the bar. He glanced at me, and he looked more than mildly irritated. He looked like he wanted to crush someone’s skull. He turned away from me and ordered a beer. As it was put down in front of him, the door opened, and I saw Deacon do a double-take at something outside.

Spencer was suddenly in front of me, before I had a chance to follow Deacon’s eyes.  As he sat down, I saw the back of Deacon as he stalked back outside.

“Hey, Blue Eyes. How’s it goin’?”

“Hi, Spencer. It’s goin’.” I smiled and took a sip of my vodka and cranberry through my straw.

Spencer’s eye was a bit purply. He looked like he’d definitely been on the wrong end of a fight.

I wondered if Ella had ended things with Deacon yet.

“It’s goin’ down smooth tonight.” Spencer downed the rest of his beer and then put the bottle on the bar with a flourish.

“Where’s your brother?” I inquired.

“Ride? Likely workin’ or doin’ something for the club. Why?”

I shrugged, “Just wonderin’.”

“Wonderin’ if he wants to come back to your place again?” Spencer leaned in. He reeked of booze. He was tanked.

“Not necessarily,” I said and took another sip of my drink.

He gave me a knowing look.

“Hm. Well, trust me, if he wants seconds, he’ll sniff around ya.”

“Seconds?” I was a little bit, no a lot offended.

He waved his hands defensively, “Just teasin’, Blue Eyes. My brothers aren’t really one-woman men, though. You know? Not like me. Ride’s got a whole section in his phone of bitches’ phone numbers who want him to come back for seconds.”

I snickered to hide the involuntary dive my stomach just took.

“Oh, and where’s your one woman?” I asked.

“I’m still searchin’ for her. Tried a few on for size lately, but nothing special in this town that’s available.” He was watching Pippa coming toward us. She was texting, her honey and highlighted-with-caramel hair swaying, her face smiling, obviously getting something good from her text conversation. She ignored both of us and sat on the barstool beside me.

“Though gotta say,” Spencer continued, eyes back on me. “Wish I’d started lookin’ a day earlier. You or your little blonde friend caught my eye before D and Ride and I’d’ve had either of ya. You’re both foxy as fuck.” He was staring at my mouth.

“And you’re drunk as fuck. Go away.” I waved my hand at him as I chased my wayward straw with my tongue and took a big sip. I realized instantly that this was the wrong move. He was still staring at my mouth and now his gaze was darkening.

“Oooh, she’s spirited,” he remarked with a big grin. “No wonder you caught Ride’s eye. He likes ‘em spirited.” He turned back to the bar and signaled to the bartender.

“I amend my earlier statement. Give me your brother’s number and then go away.”

“Relax, just mean you’re both potential girlfriend material, rather than biker bunnies. It’s a compliment.”

“Whatever. His number?” I raised my eyebrows.

“He didn’t give you his number, babe? Maybe you didn’t make that much of an impression.”

“Don’t be an asshole,” Pippa snapped, her eyes off her phone and glaring at Spencer as I simultaneously said, “Fuck you.”

He reared back, amused at our aggression.

I took the straw out of my glass and tossed back the rest of my drink and ate the cherries at the bottom. I reached for his phone, which was lying on the bar. He let out a teasing laugh.

I hit his home button. Password protected.

Damn it!

“Gimme his number, Spencer,” I ordered.

“Have a drink with me. No two drinks. Two shots. Barkeep!” He slammed his palm on the bar and the big, no huge, grizzlyish biker with a long beard and a big belly who looked like he belonged on the set of the tv show Duck Dynasty looked down his nose at Spencer. He’d been friendly with me, definitely not stingy with the cherries, but looked like he was annoyed with Spencer.

“Spence?”

“Three shots of tequila, Little John.”

“Make that two, Little John. None for me. I’m goin’.” Pip said and gave me a look. “You not comin’?”

“I’ll have a drink with Spence,” I shrugged. “Go. I’ll catch a cab.”

“I still want three. I’ll drink hers,” Spence said.

Pippa rolled her eyes at me, swung her big slouchy purse over her shoulder, and then she left. Spencer’s eyes were on her ass the whole way out. Then again, several other sets of eyes were, too. Pippa taught yoga classes as well as Pilates in addition to doing nails and waxing and she had a great butt.

***

“Gimme your brother’s number,” I whined, kicking my feet like a tantruming toddler. I’d had two shots of tequila and another vodka and cranberry and was feeling no pain.

Spencer laughed at me.

Spencer was really, really good-looking with his brown with amber flecked eyes and his muscled arms covered in ink, that sexy flop of dark hair falling in his eyes. He also had dimples when he flirted. He kept flirting, but it was feeling harmless and I didn’t return the flirtation. And I had my sights set on Rider.              

I slammed my fist on the bar and got angry. And then, I pounced. I tried to wrestle the phone off him. We wound up on the floor of the bar, all tangled up with discarded peanut shells and who knew what else.

Yick.

“All right, all right,” he relented, laughing his butt off, and helped me to my feet, looking totally amused.

“Passcode!” I demanded.

Shit, I just did that in a skirt. I didn’t bother glancing around to see if I could tell whether or not anyone had seen my undies.

“6969,” he said.

“Such a pig,” I grumbled, and unlocked the phone then found “Ride” in his directory and copied the number onto my phone.

“Gotta tinkle. Be right back,” I said, and Spencer was snickering and putting his phone into his front jeans pocket, dusting dive bar debris and peanut shells off his jeans.

Sitting on the toilet, I sent a text to Rider.

“Hey sexy.”

My phone buzzed from my handbag while I was washing my hands.

“Who’s this?”

“I’ll give you a hint. You spent the night with me very recently.”

There was a long delay where my phone didn’t text back, and it niggled at me. Of course. How many women had he recently spent the night with? I didn’t even wanna know.  The term ‘recently’ was subjective, too.

Clearly, I wasn’t in his phone.

“…and I’ve got a really expensive duvet that you did NOT get dirty. LOL.”

He replied seconds later.

“Duvet. You crack me up, gorgeous. I’d like to get your duvet real dirty. Too bad you’re not that kind of girl.”

I smiled.

Clearly, he was waiting for some sort of hint before replying. I pushed away the oily feeling that threatened me. We weren’t exclusive. Yet. We were new. But, I wanted him to want that exclusivity. And I was good at making men I had in my sights want me.

“My duvet is pure and unsullied, and practically priceless. But another night with you? I’d consider letting you soil that duvet REAL good.”

I wrinkled my nose in delight, pleased with myself.

“How would I be invited to do that? Tell me.

It buzzed again.

“In detail. Maybe I’ll bring a 2-carat ring with me.”

I giggled.

“4 carat. Minimum. Why don’t you meet me at Deke’s Roadhouse and we can talk --- maybe explore all the ways there are to dirty my duvet?”

“You there now?”

“I sure am.”

“Be there in fifteen.”

“Hurry. Or I’ll start without you.”

I sashayed back out to the bar, feeling like I was walking on air, and ordered another drink. Spencer was chatting up a cute redhead with huge boobs.

My beautiful biker didn’t show up. Around an hour later, I took a cab home alone. And I was kind of butt-hurt about it and let Spencer know it, too. It wasn’t like me to sit around and wait for a guy.

I made them wait. I was more than annoyed. And I let that all hang out rather loudly.

He shrugged it off, telling me he would try not to feel too wounded that I’d spent the night bitching about hanging out with him. As my cab got there, I saw Spencer  walking up the stairs outside of Deke’s Roadhouse to the upper floor, the Dominion Brotherhood clubhouse, and he was holding the hand of busty cute redheaded girl.

***

Rider turned up in the morning at my salon just before lunchtime. “Sorry, Starlet,” he said when I looked up from the magazine I was reading, sitting at the reception desk, between appointments. Pippa was in her back room, with a client.

I raised my eyebrows and gave him a cold glare.

“Emergency last night,” he said.

I narrowed my eyes at him and flipped the page. I couldn’t decide whether to play it off bitchily or like I didn’t care. I guess what came next was a bit of both.

I shrugged with one shoulder, “All right.” I flipped the page on my magazine again.

He looked at me a beat and something in his eyes threw me. Was he disappointed with my reaction? Was this the wrong play to make?

A long moment passed where I felt really small under his gaze. I didn’t like that feeling. At all.

He looked like he was about to leave.

“So, uh, Ella and Deacon. Can I ask you your opinion objectively?” I asked quickly, hoping to salvage the conversation.

“Objectively?” He folded his arms across his chest, looking at me suspiciously.

“I’ve heard some things. Ella is like a sister to me. Is it a bad idea for her to get involved with him?”

“No. Not a bit.” He did not hesitate.

“I heard some things through the grapevine. He’s got a history of violence against women?”

“Not at fucking all,” Rider spat, looking annoyed. “Spence. Fuck,” he grumbled.

“No?” I asked, hopefully, but also feeling a little bit sick, because if it was all bull-pucky, it might already be too late. Ella may have already given Deacon the finger.

“No. It’s bullshit. There’s a lot of shit that went down between Spence and D and between D and the women he chose to spend his time with. He’s been fucked over a coupla times by bitches and had his heart broken, too. He had a girlfriend get murdered, a girl he was ready to propose to fucked off on him when he was ready to get serious, partly because Spence was in her friend zone and didn’t wanna be there and he went about sabotaging her thing with D. And there was a psycho chick who pitted D and Spence against one another using her pussy first and then her fists and a fucking crowbar when D decided her pussy wasn’t worth the hassle. That cunt’s in jail doing 25 to life for murdering some other poor bastard who fell for her shit. My brothers got away not unscathed by her bullshit, though. Your girl Ella would be a lucky bitch to hold D’s attention.”

“Oh God.” I was clutching my throat. 99% of the time around Rider, up until that point, had been flirty and lighthearted. Except that morning after. And this. This was so far the opposite of that, it made my blood curdle.  He looked ready to rip someone’s head off. I chose to ignore his usage of the ‘c’ word, even though it was like nails down a chalkboard for me. Because, Rider looked pissed. Beyond pissed.

He continued. “Couldn’t have a better guy in your corner. Been a long time since I’ve seen him get serious about a girl. Your girl is a lucky girl to get that from a man like my brother. That he’s even interested after the shit he’s had to deal with?  She’s a lucky girl. God’s honest truth.”

“Really?”

“Truth,” Rider vowed. “Spence is jealous, and Spence is dealing with shit right now and he’s tryin’ to drown his sorrows in booze. Booze makes him an asshole, particularly toward Deacon. He needs to slow down his drinkin’.”

“I’m sure the cocaine isn’t helping,” I muttered.

Rider lifted his brows, “Cocaine?”

I waved my hand, “Never mind.”

He growled, “Fuckin’ great. You know this for a fact?”

“I know he tried to get Joe to score for him. That’s all I know.”

“Fuck sakes.”

I didn’t like the look of him pissed. It was pretty scary, actually.             

“I need to call Ella. I told her what I’d heard from Joe and Pip, and I need to tell her I got it wrong.” I reached for my phone. I hoped it wasn’t too late for Ella. If it was, it’d be my fault. Shit. Shit…

“They’ve already sorted it. I saw her bright and early this morning with him at his place. The only thing left to be sorted is Spence.” A muscle was working in his jaw. He looked annoyed.

“What do you mean?”

“Spence is lucky that Deacon overlooks shit with him. Deacon is no slouch and he doesn’t generally overlook bullshit from anyone, but he lets shit roll off with Spence. Anybody else, it’d be bad.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. Deacon can be the scariest motherfucker I’ve ever seen. And I’ve seen some scary fuckin’ mofos.”

“Yikes,” I said. Not sure what else to say.

“But that scariness won’t come at Ella. It’ll shield her. She’s got nothing to worry about, givin’ her heart to my brother.”

I felt a little melty at that. I smiled.

“Well, he did dangle Spencer from the roof,” I said.

Rider snickered, “Yeah, wish I’d seen it.”

“Not me. Didn’t sound like fun. I think you and me were havin’ a whole lot more fun while that was going on, anyway.”

He stared at me a beat, something working in his eyes. His lips tilted into a smile.

I smiled back.

His smile got bigger.

Our eyes locked for a second and my knees went to Jell-O.

He cleared his expression. “Another reason I’m here, beyond apologizing for not turnin’ up last night, is to warn you about Fork.”

“Fork?”

“Jackal. Ella’s cousin. Blond guy. Huge.”

“Christian Forker?” He was blond. And huge. He was probably 6’7”.

“Fork and the other Jackals from his charter are hanging around Aberdeen extra. They don’t like that The Brotherhood are here. They really don’t like that Ella’s with my brother. Figure she’ll tell you about it but in case she hasn’t, or in case she doesn’t drive the point home, I wanted to get in front of this. You gotta keep quiet about anything to do with the Dominion Brotherhood versus the Jackals. Anything.”

“Okay…”

“And a coupla their bitches were clocked last night bein’ moles and saw you with Spence at the Roadhouse. One of those bitches snapped a pic with her phone. If they think you’re with him, they might hassle ya.”

“With him? I didn’t give any indication of anything with him.”

“Heard you tackled him in the bar,” Rider said, sort of emotionless, “Took him to the floor, straddlin’ him.”

No, not emotionless. Cold. His eyes were cold when he said that.

“I was wrestling his phone off him to get your number,” I croaked out, feeling my face going red.

I did tackle him, but was it really seen like that? Is that why Rider didn’t show? He thought I was flirting with his brother?

“I spent two drinks and two shots trying to bribe him to get your number. I had no desire for his company otherwise, believe me.”

I folded my arms across my chest.

His expression didn’t change.

I swallowed. “Is that why you didn’t show? You thought I was playing games between you and your brother?”

He shook his head, “Nope. Said I had an emergency. I don’t bullshit, Jenna.”

I rolled my eyes, but my heart sank. That was the first time he’d called me ‘Jenna’. Until now I’d been “Gorgeous”, “Babe”, or “Baby” or some other pet name.

I didn’t like the tone in his voice when he said my name. I also didn’t believe him. Maybe he had an emergency, but he clearly had an opinion about me “straddlin’” his brother. Why the heck did I do that? In a skirt, no less. And there were pictures of it?

He narrowed his eyes and it made my heart sink even deeper. I looked away from his penetrating gaze.

“Okay, well, uh…thanks for the warning about Chris and the Jackals. And thanks for… setting me straight about Deacon.” I snapped the magazine I’d been reading shut and dropped it on the table in my waiting area. I moved to the door, opening it to wave him out. He didn’t move. He was working his jaw muscles, looking annoyed with me. More annoyed.

What the heck for?

I glared at him, tight-lipped, not wanting him to be annoyed with me, not sure why he was so annoyed, but not wanting him to have an upper hand. I always avoided giving men the upper hand. In my experience, they’d use it to hurt you.

He rolled his eyes and then his expression cleared and the new look on his face was even worse than the last one because this one was as if he clearly couldn’t give two shits that I was now in a dirty-look-showdown with him. He moved toward the door.

Shit.

Shit!

I was screwing this up with my attitude. Deacon and Ella’s thing? I might’ve screwed it up. Was I screwing up me and Rider, too? Before we even got a chance to be a me and Rider.

“Rider?” I stopped him with my hand to his arm as he was passing me.

He looked down at me, at my hand on his arm, and then his gaze lifted to meet mine.

My face felt like it melted a bit and I swallowed hard.

I was overcome with the urge to kiss him. To run my fingers through his hair. To salvage what was feeling like a meeting gone way wrong.

I swallowed again. Our eyes were still locked. I was sinking into a turquoise sea.

His annoyance and chill melted clean away. He smiled at me. And his smile was breathtaking.

He tucked my hair behind my ear. I shivered.

His smile went wider.

“Like that soft look on your face a lot better than the hard one, baby,” he whispered.

My heart lifted, and my words tumbled out before I had a chance to measure them. “I’m sorry if I’m off today. I partied too hard last night, and you didn’t show, and I was disappointed, and … and I’d like to see you again.”

He looked thoughtful for a beat.

“Is everything okay with your … emergency?”

“Dunno yet. A brother is MIA. Hopin’ it will be,” he whispered and leaned over and his lips touched mine.

I let go of the door and he moved us back and had me pinned against the wall in my reception area.

“Who?” I asked, and our eyes were locked.

His left hand was on my hip; his right hand moved to my jaw.

“Scooter. Talk about that later,” he moved in for a kiss.

His kiss was hungry, urgent, and mine was too, I think. I kissed him like I might never get a chance to kiss him again. My fingers were in his hair, and I let out a whimper or two. It’d felt, for a bit there, like that was a probability. That I’d fucked up. One of his hands went down to cup my behind and the other moved into my hair, holding me in place. I’d usually feel claustrophobic at something like that. I didn’t. I felt the opposite. I wanted him to hold on tight and suffocate me with his mouth, his touch.

I let out a gust and it sounded needy.

“Tomorrow night?” he asked.

“Tonight?” I amended.

“I’ll try. There’s something on tonight that I might not be able to get out of.”

“Not a date, I hope?” God. Me and my malfunctioning mouth.

“No, gorgeous. Not a date. I’ll call you.” He looked at me warmly.

“Okay.” I smiled. And then I got up on my tippy toes and kissed him, supremely pleased that his height meant I got to do that instead of leaning over or simply being eye-level. It was a little thing, but to me it was one of the many things that made me very interested in this beautiful biker.

“Cuz if it was a date, I might have to fight her.”

He chuckled and then he kissed me back with even more passion. And that was when Deanna, my next appointment, was coming in. Dee, twenty-three, was an auburn-haired beauty. She was also a dick magnet.  She had two sons with two different men and they’d both fucked her over. 

When Dick #1 turned into said dick and didn’t bother to show up for the birth of baby number one, his best friend admitted his years-long crush on her and said he wanted her and her son. She left Dick #1 for the promise of him. Then, she got pregnant with his baby not even a year later, and he fucked off on her, thus christening him Dick #2. He was unable to handle the responsibility of her toddler; never mind the baby he’d put in her oven. So, she had to do it mostly alone. She had a disabled mom who tried to help, but no other family in the area.

Deanna was struggling. She worked at the cab office Ella worked at and sold make-up and household scented wax warmers, and did sex toy parties. She worked her ass off since neither of the two deadbeat dad dicks of her boys paid child support on a regular basis.

She had a standing monthly appointment and always brought her two toddlers with her. They always tore up the salon like little terrors, but she was a single mom, so I didn’t give her a hassle.

She was a pal, so I charged her just for the products I used and not my time and she made it up to me with free samples of all the stuff she sold. I regularly stocked up on the wax and had more than I could likely ever burn both here and at the apartment, but I saw how each sale helped her. I didn’t buy her sex toys, but Ella regularly talked up some $200 purple vibrator and she was threatening to buy me one for Christmas.

I also let Deanna put her scented stuff catalogues in my waiting area for my customers and Pip would hand out her sex toy catalogues to women who got Brazilians. While she got her pampering, Pip and I did our best to keep her two toddler boys busy. Her older one loved to sweep the floor.

“Hey Jenna. Mornin’,” Deanna beamed at me, taking in Rider from head to toe.

She bit her lip, with emphasis, her eyes locked on mine.

“Daddeeeee?” her 2 ½ year old son, Timothy, grabbed Rider’s Dom vest and tugged.

Rider looked down at him and chuckled and then looked to Deanna.

“So sorry. I don’t know why he keeps doin’ this!” She ushered him away, beet-faced. “That’s not Daddy, honey.”

“So, anyway, I gotta take care of Dee,” I told him.

“Try real hard for later, yeah?”

“Come pick me up? Take me for a ride on the back of your bike?” I asked.

His smile spread wide. “Yeah?”

I nodded, biting my lip. “Yeah. Maybe take me for a drink at the Roadhouse? Never been on a bike.”

“No?” His lips were twitching like he was fighting a smile.

“Nope. I’d love for you to pop that cherry,” I said.

“I’ll text you,” he whispered, giving me molten turquoise eyes.

“Sounds good.”

“If I can’t make it, you wait before getting on a bike. That cherry’s mine.”

Holy crap. I might’ve had a little bit of an orgasm right there.