I twist my bike's throttle, thundering into the open road ahead, savoring the feeling of the warm night air rushing past me. I'm wearing blue jeans, a long-sleeve flannel shirt that covers my tattooed arms, and a pair of goggles. My one duffel bag, which contains all of my worldly possessions, sits strapped to the bike behind me.

No riding jacket, no Kevlar pants, no armor, no helmet. After eight years of service in the Navy, including six long, dangerous years deployed as a SEAL, I'm not fucking scared of a little bike ride.

Shit, even if I wreck, who'd miss me? My mom ran away when I was just a kid. The only person who ever gave a damn about me was my old man, and him getting killed in a raid in Somalia was the reason I joined the SEALs in the first place.

When I left Maple Ridge, I was just a stupid kid who thought he was tough shit. The operative word being "stupid." I thought joining the Navy was my patriotic duty, my way to avenge my old man's death and find glory. I didn't know what tough was.

What I got was a hard-knock education in the world and in war. I don't regret a fucking minute of it, because it made me the man I am today. But there's nothing glorious about war. War is war. It never changes. And it taught me you better hang on to what you got here and now, because tomorrow it could all be gone in an instant.

So, I maybe got one regret. Hardly a day goes by that I don't think of Tess Cassidy, the girl I skipped town on so long ago. That firecracker personality, those curves that went on for days, those gorgeous, round tits that I could hardly keep my eyes and hands off of. Shit, that whole last year of high school, I think I fucked her more than I've fucked every other woman in the last 8 years combined. And I'd do it all over again a thousand times.

And back then, she was more than just a hot-as-fuck plaything. She was the only girl who ever made me want more.

Of course, that's a long time in the past now.

And word got to me that she married some white-collar asshole. Last I heard of her and tightey-whitey, they were shacked up together in the suburbs.

She's out of sight, out of mind, and won't cause me any fucking sweat while I'm here. I won't even have to think about her. I'm going in, handling my shit, and then getting the hell out. Easy enough, right?

I'd probably fucking tear tightey-whitey's organs out of his body if I saw him with Tess, but hey. I hope they're real happy together. Really.

Now, it's just me on my own. And that's the way I fucking want it. No one to bother me. My plan is to get to Maple Ridge, take care of old business, then ride this bike up to Alaska where no one can find me for the next few years. A long-needed break after my military service.

I squeeze my legs against the beast beneath me. It responds well to each adjustment of the throttle, brimming with power. It's the kind of bike that gives a man an extra edge of confidence out here on the open road. The highway is empty of other vehicles right now. It's just me, the road lights, and the walls of green on either side of the road, rushing past me as my bike hums faithfully between my legs.

As I round the big bend on US-456, the Maple Ridge exit comes into view, and memories flood into my mind like water surging past a dam. I push on my bike's handlebars, cross-steering to take the gentle, sloping turn into the exit.

I need a fucking drink, so I head to Red Lion Tavern. The town's one and only bar.

Time to see which of my old buddies are still in this little town, and to find out what I've missed these past eight years.

* * *

The Red Lion is dark and damp, tiny and crowded like a cave. Rows of liquor bottles stand behind the counter. Vodkas, gins, and whiskeys. The aged, varnished wooden counter is scratched and swollen from absorbing decades of abuse and gallons of spilled liquor. Patrons huddle around square tables, the room buzzing with conversation. The joint is well-worn like a good dive bar should be. Frankly, it's a real shithole, exactly the way I remember from when I used to be a delivery boy.

Just my kind of place.

Eddie Valenzuela recognizes me first, and he claps me on the back as I sit on one of the bar stools.

"Eight years. You motherfucker," he says, grinning at me.

I can't help grinning back when I realize who it he is. One of my best buds from high school. We caused huge mayhem together, including our all-time best prank: disassembling the principal's VW Bug and re-assembling it in the lobby of the administrative building, all in one afternoon. Nearly got expelled for that, but it was worth it.

I set down my Guinness and rise to meet Eddie with a bear hug. "I'll be damned," I say, grinning. "You handsome son of a bitch." Eddie's turned from a gangly kid into a burly, good-looking brick wall with thick, buzzed black hair. It's like hugging a grizzly. "How you been, man?"

His grin cracks even wider, and his jaw looks completely unhinged. "Opened up a Chinese joint down at the Valley Strip Mall," he says. "Got married to a sweet young thing straight out of Asia, and we opened up shop."

I chuckle to myself. Eddie and political correctness don't go hand-in-hand.

"Good for you, man," I say. "She here?"

"No, bro. She's working at the shop."

I roll my eyes. "And you're getting wasted at the bar."

"Man, I busted my ass all day today, and all this week. Been slaving over beef and broccoli and—"

"Relax," I say, winking at Eddie. "Busting your balls, you big softie."

Eddie roars with laughter and his face reddens. "Man, you don't know shit about marriage. I get so much hen pecking from her, bro, I'm literally on edge all the time." I smirk. Eddie turns to face the room, slinging his arm around my shoulder. "Yo, everybody," he bellows, "Look who's back!"

All heads swivel to us, and a wave of excitement ripples through the room. "Holy shit. Thorne's back!" someone exclaims, and all of the sudden I'm surrounded by people chatting me up, trying to buy me drinks.

Suddenly everybody wants attention from the guy who left as a kid and came back as a ripped, rugged, tattooed Navy SEAL veteran. The women want me, the men want to be me. Go fucking figure. It reminds me why I'm getting the fuck out of here as soon as possible, and going to Alaska where nobody can bother me.

Me, Eddie, and about a dozen other people are about to put down a round of Irish car bombs when a blonde broad snakes her way into the circle of people around me.

"Damn, honey," she says, "Aren't you something?" She presses her tits up against my shoulder. She's skinny, her face caked in makeup, her chest unnaturally big. All the guys at the bar can't keep their eyes off her and she obviously thrives on attention.

She's exactly the type I'd have ogled back when I was a complete dumbass middle-schooler jacking off to Sears catalogs. Before I met Tess and discovered that real women have curves.

I study her features, trying to put a name to her face. She has some big fucking tits underneath that skintight black dress, but my cock is out of the office. It doesn't so much as fucking stir. Unfortunately for blondie, her matchstick body just doesn't do shit for me.

My eyes must be glassing over, because she gives me a head-wiggling "is anybody home" look. "Don't you remember me?" she says. "Brooke?"

Holy shit. As soon as she says her name, I place her. She was in my home room in high school, always trying to play footsie with me. And always annoying the fuck out of me.

"Oh wow, Brooke," I say, trying to feign some excitement for the sake of politeness. I mean, I'm not a fucking savage who hurts people's feelings on purpose. "Long time no see."

She puts on a smile. "You came back to see me, huh?" She winks. Eddie roars with laughter, setting off a wave of guffawing and wolf-whistling among the crowd surrounding me.

I smile but I pull back, putting some breathing room between us. "I'm seeing you now, aren't I?" I say. I know I'm being patronizing, but honestly, I just don't give much of a fuck. I definitely did not come back to Maple Ridge to see Brooke whoever-the-fuck.

"Burn!" quips Tom Fairing from the crowd. Tom was a high school jock. Now he's thin up top and thick down around the waist and way past his prime, and probably wishes Brooke was hanging off his arm right now. Me, I just want her to beat it already. Brooke shoots him a dirty look.

"Huh," she says, pouting, "Well you were always—"

Her voices fades out as I catch a familiar face in the corner of my eye.

Holy fucking shit.

In walks the most gorgeous woman I've ever seen in my entire life. I almost drop my shot of Bailey's all over my fucking dick, which is hardening in my jeans.

It's her. Tess Cassidy. She's wearing a western-style lace shirt, tucked into bright blue jeans, tucked into a pair of black cowboy boots. She's just as gorgeous as the day I left eight years ago. I've been all over the world, and there's still not another damn woman on this planet who has the same effect on me. She beelines straight for a corner booth, barely glancing at the crowd of bar patrons surrounding me at the counter. She sits at an empty booth in the corner and withdraws a book from her purse.

My dick suddenly remembers it's alive. Brooke's pouty speech crackles into background static. All my senses recalibrate on Tess, and it's suddenly impossible to think about anything else.

She hasn't noticed me at the bar yet. At least I don't think. Good thing, too, because if I stood up right now, I'd probably knock everyone off their barstools with my raging hard cock.

I spread my legs on my stool, giving my engorged unit some extra space. I reach down to make an adjustment, and Eddie elbows me in the side. A few people cock their eyebrows, and Brooke's eyes drop down to my package.

I cough awkwardly, and Eddie elbows me in the side. "S'matter with you? You got crabs on your dick back in Iraq?" The bar howls with laughter and I chuckle. I guess us guys aren't as stealthy as we think when we make adjustments.

I grunt and put Eddie in a headlock. Everyone roars with laughter as I give him a good-natured, but brutal noggin-burn. "You're a sick individual," I tell him.

"Jesus, Mary, and Joseph," says Eddie, regaining his composure and rubbing his neck. "You're a strong motherfucker, you know that?"

"I do," I say, wryly amused. Then I put my beer bottom-up, drain it, and smack the bottle on the counter with authority. I stand and put an arm each around Eddie and Brooke. "Everybody, if you'll excuse me. Got more pleasant company to attend to."

Truth is, I got no idea if I should really be doing this. Tess is married, and she probably hates me, and this could just open a whole can of worms that should stay shut.

So naturally, I stand up, square my shoulders, cuff my sleeves, and walk right up to her table.

She's got her nose buried in her book and doesn't notice me until I'm standing right over her.

She looks up, and those gorgeous, plump lips part in surprise. Her expression prickles with recognition.

"Hi, Tess," I say. "Been a while."

The moment freezes in time as we lock gazes with one another. It could be five seconds, thirty seconds, an hour. I can't even fucking tell, because all I see is a bombshell that I haven't been able to get off my mind for nearly a decade. She's still the best I ever had.

Deep down, I feel like there's still a part of me that has feelings for her. But I try to stomp it out, like smothering a match. There's no reason to go backwards and think about old what-ifs. I'm just going to enjoy her company in the present. Her hot-as-fuck company.

"Hunter," she says, her lips parting in surprise, "To what do I owe the pleasure? I don't believe it."

"Yet here I am," I say with a grin. "You going to invite me to sit down?" She pauses, biting her lip.

"Is this the start of your next disappearing act?"

Shit. She's still mad, all these years later. And it doesn't help how her lips get so pouty, how her cheeks get so rosy pink when that happens.

"Not a magician. Just a guy wanting to buy a drink for a beautiful girl."

"I guess I can't stop you," she says. So I do, because even though she hasn't cracked a smile yet, I like a challenge and I'd sooner walk into incoming traffic than give up a chance to lay eyes on this girl again. I signal the bartender to serve our table before Tess changes her mind. "Whiskey and water for me," I tell him.

"Ginger ale," Tess says.

After the bartender steps away, she gives me a look. "Whiskey and water? Really?"

I frown. "It hydrates you."

She shakes her head. "That's what they taught you in the Navy?"

"No, that's just good sense."

She shakes her head and finally lets a little laugh out. I grin at her. "You know I'm right. It's very nutritious, unlike the sugar water you just ordered."

"Uh huh. Ginger is good for you."

"You honestly think there's ginger in ginger ale?"

"Um, yeah, unless it's false advertising."

I laugh. "Oh, you sweet spring chicken." She turns a little bit red, and all I can think about is doing things to her until she's all the way red. And sweating.

The bartender arrives with our drinks, and I take a swig of mine. "Tastes like Tennessee," I say, and I can't lie, it's good to be back in my home state again.

She sips her ginger ale from a tiny cocktail straw. "You want a bigger one?" I say with a wink. I'm starting to feel the alcohol, and well, sometimes I just can't contain my tremendous wit.

She scoffs. "Not that you'd be able to help me with that."

Damn. I grin again. "You know that's not true."

She takes another sip and blushes. I can still remember the last time we fucked, the way she took my cock, the way she moaned for me. I hope she's remembering the same thing. "So," she says, changing the subject, "you're back now, but you couldn't make it when I invited you, huh?"

I cock my head. "I didn't get any invitation," I say truthfully.

"To my wedding."

I swallow hard at that word.

"I never got it," I say again. "Mail's hit or miss out there." I'd almost have felt like an asshole for missing her wedding, except that I'd have slaughtered the groom on the spot out of pure jealousy. So it's probably for the best that envelope got lost in transit.

"Well," she says, "doesn't matter anyway." She flashes her left hand at me, and there's no ring. "Divorced."

I blink. A sense of relief and new possibility washes through my body. My cock stirs inside my pants. "What happened?"

"Cheated with a coworker."

"Fuck that." Now I have two reasons to tear this guy a new asshole if I ever meet him. What kind of pencil-dicked man would cheat on a woman like Tess? Not one that I'd allow to live for more than about five seconds.

I'm not the touchy-feely type, but even I've got enough tact not to pry about a divorce.

From the corner of my vision, I see Eddie giving me a thumbs-up. I chuckle inwardly. He hasn't changed since high school.

I put down another swig of my whiskey. "Then what are you doing now?"

"Hating all men."

I almost chuckle, but I restrain myself when I realize I completely believe her. "Anything else?"

"Not really."

"Nothing at all?"

"Well," she admits, "I sell soap and candles on Etsy."

I'm about to ask her what the fuck an Etsy is, when a stranger approaches our table. He's probably six feet, a few inches shorter than me. He's tall, blond, and muscular.

Without asking, he interrupts our conversation by sliding into the booth next to Tess. He puts an arm on the seat behind her and slides a beer in front of her.

I know the fucking type. Insecure little boys who want to "be alpha" and prove something by challenging a military man. This shit happens practically every time I try to have a nice night out.

"Hey there," he says, pretending like I don't exist. "I bought you a drink."

I grin and cock an eyebrow at Tess. "You know this guy?"

She gives me a no-I-don't-and-please-help-me look.

"Buddy," I say, "you got the wrong table."

He stares at me with wide eyes, like he's trying to intentionally menace me or something. "I have the right one."

Looks like we're going to do this the hard way.

"You don't want a confrontation, man," I say. "We're trying to have a conversation here."

He relaxes into the booth, sliding his arm down onto Tess's shoulders, and smiles at me. What a fucking creep. No one puts hands on the woman I'm with. Especially not when that woman is Tess Cassidy.

I like to think of myself as a reasonable guy, but I don't have a habit of asking twice. I lean forward, reach over the table, and slap him upside the head so hard he falls out of the booth and lands in a puddle of liquid on the floor.

He looks up at me, dazed and indignant. "The fuck, man?" His temple is already turning blue and swelling.

I stand up, bend over, and haul him up by his fancy shirt collar. The seams rip apart like zippers. "Don't act all fucking surprised," I say, "You act like a dick, eventually you fuck with someone badder than you. That's called the food chain, bitch."

He jerks away from me, but I don't let him go. I rotate my body to shield Tess.

"I could have you arrested," he says. "This is assault and battery."

I shrug. "Try."

He brushes himself off, backing away, and I release him. "You're crazy," he says. He stumbles backward, nearly tripping over a table. The two men sitting there steady their beers, and look like they're about to help me rip this guy a new one. Finally, he flips me the bird, turns, and staggers out of the bar.

My lip curls in disgust as I take my seat again. I put down the rest of my drink. "Sorry you had to see that," I say. "I don't want you to think I'm a dangerous guy." And that's the truth. I don't get off on fighting with idiots. But there have to be consequences for crossing boundaries.

Tess brushes some stray hairs out of her eyes, flushed. "I think we should call it a night."

I frown. "He won't bother you again."

"No, I mean, it's awkward now."

I look over my shoulder, and half the bar is nervously watching our table. Even Eddie looks nervous.

"Let's just get going," she says, gathering her purse and pushing her drink away. "That's enough for one evening."

I shrug. "Fine. So this is you inviting me back to your place, right?"

She scoffs, and I have to admit, it stings a little. "What gave you that impression?"

"You could show me how grateful you are I saved your sweet ass just now," I say, grinning smugly.

"You mean by embarrassing me in front of the whole bar?"

"Fine," I say. I chuckle. I'm definitely feeling the booze now. Normally, I play it cooler around women, but I'm fucking disappointed to not be going home with this girl. This whole time we've been talking, all I can really think about is getting her naked and tasting her sweet pussy again. "Let's get out of here," I say.

* * *

Outside, the stars twinkle in the sky. It's a clear night, and the Maple Ridge Comfort Inn beckons from down the road. Its neon-lit sign glows high in the sky, probably 150 feet in the air. The sign is mounted on one of those super-high posts to make it visible all the way from the highway. And to be honest, it's this town's main attraction for outsiders. No one really comes to Maple Ridge looking for anything more than a bed and a roof over their head.

I'm feeling good, can't lie. Probably have a hell of a hangover in the morning, though.

Tess and I walk side-by-side, kicking the dirt of the parking lot. When she realizes I'm heading for the only motorcycle out here, she laughs. "This is yours?"

The bike is a 1980s-style Honda standard I picked up off Craigslist as soon as I hit stateside. Took new tires and a couple long days in a Pep Boys parking lot to get it running right, and it needs a lot more work, but I know a trustworthy machine when I see one. And even though I could easily afford a brand-new bike, there's no adventure in that.

"What'd you expect, a minivan?"

Tess stops walking and rolls her eyes. "I know you're not a soccer mom, but... A U-Haul? Something to carry your stuff?"

"Got no stuff," I say. "Just what you see here."

"Where are you staying?"

I point toward the neon Comfort Inn sign high above our heads. "Only one joint in town."

"Oh, I thought you might've gotten an Air B&B. That's big here now."

I scratch my head. "What the hell is an Air B&B?"

Tess shakes her head, adjusting her purse on her shoulder. The cool wind blows, and she untucks one hand from her crossed arms to push back some stray hairs. Fuck. She keeps doing these little things that make me want her so fucking bad, and I'm not even sure why. "Never mind. How long are you going to be in town?"

I shrug, my gaze involuntarily dropping to the outline of her bust, visible through her sweater. What a beautiful fucking pair of tits. I jerk my eyes up, forcing myself to make eye contact like I'm not a caveman. "Long as it takes to get this bike fixed up, and take care of a few things."

"Oh," she says, and I almost think I detect disappointment in her voice. "So you're just here for now."

"A few weeks. Then I'm riding up to Alaska."

"That's a long way from here."

"Exactly."

She sighs. "I can't let you pay for a hotel for a few weeks. You can crash at my place."

A thud of excitement drops in my stomach, and I grin. "Money isn't an issue." I step in closer, and I smell her, and fuck, she smells divine. "The issue," I growl, "is that I want to take you home and tear you apart. I want to fuck and taste every inch of your gorgeous body, Tess."

She looks shocked. "That's uh, not what I meant."

I lean in closer to her, and the tip of my nose almost brushes hers. "You know how good we were together."

I swear she lingers longer than she should, but she steps back and shakes her head. "Sorry, Hunter, but I'm in a different place now. I'm getting over a divorce. Trying to change my life. I don't need complications right now."

"There's nothing complicated about a fuck."

She blushes, but shakes her head again. "Nothing's going to happen."

My hard cock strains against my pant leg. It's such a fucking waste to not slide it deep inside of Tess tonight. But shit. Most women are so eager to let me into their pants, it's actually refreshing to have a little challenge for once. She wants to play hard-to-get... I'm game. She won't be able to resist forever.

"Make a bad decision."

"That's exactly what I'm trying not to do."

I grin. She's stubborn as always. "Alright. But eventually you'll want a complication." I wink at her.

Tess rolls her eyes. "Keep dreaming. You're in no condition to ride your bike. Get your stuff and get in my car."

I grin again. "Yes, ma'am."

Looks like I've got one more objective to complete before I head up to Alaska: Score one more night with Tess Cassidy.