“Logan,” I whispered. “I can’t think when you do that.”
He kissed my forehead. “I’m sorry, baby.”
“For kissing me?” I asked with a frown.
“For underestimating you.”
I glanced up at him. “Continue.”
Mack stroked my cheek and smiled. “I see you’re tougher than I originally thought.”
“You think?”
“Even still, I don’t want to come between you and your sister.”
I frowned. “You can’t.”
“Babe,” he said with a sigh.
“You have no power over my relationship with my sister, Logan. She and I have had to survive a long time without anyone but the two of us, we’re an unbreakable unit.” I stepped away from him. “Now, do you want some wine?”
“You got beer?”
“Yes.”
“Hey.” He took my arm again and I looked up at him. “I’m sorry.”
I grinned. “Merlot.”
“Your preferred apology gift?”
I couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re a really smart cookie.”
“It’s a good thing I have access to wholesale.”
“Planning future offenses?”
He chuckled. “Planning, no, but knowing me, it’s inevitable.”
I grinned. “Have a seat; I’ll get you a beer.”
He nodded and made his way to the sofa. I took a minute to pour wine and open a bottle of beer and then joined him. “Did you come straight from the club?”
Mack took a swig of beer and nodded.
“Do you need to get back?”
Mack shook his head. “Booker’s there tonight, but regardless, Knight’s covering for me.”
I faced him, leaning my head in my hand. “So you left early to apologize?”
“Yeah, baby, I did.”
I reached out and patted his cheek. “I like that.”
“Yeah?”
Leaning forward, I kissed him gently. “Yeah.”
Hearing a door click in the hallway, I craned my head to see my sister (in her robe) walking into the room.
“I have something to say,” she said, and stood in front of us.
“Pauley,” I breathed out.
“Shut it,” she said, and turned to Mack. “Darien is different than the majority of the women you date. And I use the word women lightly, because, well, you can guess. Unlike your previous women, Darien’s not a skank. So, I will say this once and we’ll move on.”
“Oh boy,” I whispered.
“She is the only family I have and I love her more than anyone else on earth,” Pauley said. “If you hurt her, I will maim you. I won’t kill you because that would be too easy, but understand that I will enjoy making your life a living hell. So, proceed with care.”
Mack smiled up at her. “Babe, I know Darien’s different. It’s why I’m attracted to her. I can’t promise I won’t hurt her, ’cause I can be a dick sometimes, but I can promise I won’t do it on purpose.” He squeezed my hand. “But if for some reason, I do hurt her on purpose, I’ll stand there and let you maim me.”
I bit my lip. That was seriously sweet.
Pauley looked from him to me, and then nodded. “I think we understand each other.”
“Yeah Pauley, we understand each other,” Mack said.
“I’m going to bed. I’ll see you in the morning, sissy.” She leaned down and kissed my cheek and then left us alone.
I smiled at Mack. “Thanks for letting her vent.”
He shrugged. “I get it, Darien.”
“I think you might.”
“What’s your schedule like this week?” he asked. “I want to know how much time I have to woo you.”
“Oh, woo me, wow.” I giggled. “I work forty hours. Typically seven to four. My commute’s about half an hour home. What about you?”
“My schedule’s always flexible unless I’m in court or there’s a club meeting. Other than Wednesday night, nothin’ comin’ up for a couple of weeks.”
“Well, other than work, I don’t have any plans.”
“I’ll figure somethin’ out then.”
“Perfect.” I sipped my wine.
“Wanna do something tomorrow?”
“I’d love to.”
“I should go. I’ll pick you up around noon, yeah?” he asked, and rose to his feet.
I left my wine on the coffee table and also stood, following him as he took his beer to the kitchen. “I’ll take care of that.”
“Thanks.” He smiled, setting it on the counter. “You still mad?”
I frowned. “I was never mad, just irked.”
“Still irked?”
“Honey, that was over the second you apologized.”
“That easy?”
I giggled. “Sometimes.”
“I like that.” He leaned down and kissed me.
I walked him to the door and held it open as he stepped into the hallway. “What are we doing tomorrow?”
“Don’t know yet.”
“That’s not helpful, Logan. A girl needs to know what she’s wearing.”
“Jeans and boots if you’ve got ’em. We’re on my bike.”
I grinned. “Got it.”
He stroked my cheek. “You’re beautiful, Darien.”
I let out a snort. “It’s the beer talkin’.”
He tagged my chin. “I got a rule, baby.”
“You do?”
“Yeah. No one insults my woman, including that woman.”
My heart raced. “I’m your woman?”
“Yeah, Darien. You’re my woman.”
“Do I have any say in it?”
He smiled. “Not today.”
“Bossy.”
“Lots of practice,” he whispered as he leaned down again.
I rolled my eyes but gave him one more kiss. “Text me when you get home.”
He waited for me to lock up again and then I heard his footsteps as he left my apartment building. I waited until he texted me and then I fell into bed, my dreams filled with the delicious Mack.
SUNDAY, I TRIED not to stress (too much) about the fact that I was going on my first date with Mack. However, the fact I was doing it on the back of his bike was something I was more nervous about. My New Year’s resolution had been to try new things and get out of my comfort zone, but that didn’t change the fact I was the biggest chicken on the planet. And, let’s be honest, motorcycles were dangerous.
Pauley was still asleep, par for the course on the nights she worked past midnight, so I got ready as quietly as I could. I was pulling my leather jacket out of the coat closet when a quiet knock came on my front door. After checking the peephole, I opened the door and put my finger to my lips. “Pauley’s still asleep,” I whispered.
Mack nodded, but he still pulled me close for a mind-blowing, albeit silent kiss. “Hi.” He took a sweeping glance over my body. “You look beautiful.”
I grinned. “Thank you. So do you.”
And he did. Dark jeans sat low on his hips, a tight, black long-sleeved T-shirt, the front tucked into the front of jeans, clear of his belt buckle. Black motorcycle boots that looked well worn, but no less hot, matched the black leather jacket he wore over his clothing.
I wore almost what he wore, only brown leather boots and brown leather jacket, plus a lacy, creamy pink off the shoulder sweater (more cream than pink because my redhead complexion just couldn’t handle too much pink) that enhanced what the good Lord gave me.
“Can I bring a purse?”
“Yeah, babe,” he said. “Where’s your dog?”
“I put him in with Pauley.” I grabbed my purse, left a note for Pauley, and followed Mack out of the apartment. After locking up, he took my hand and led me downstairs to the back of my building.
I must have started dragging because he squeezed my hand and faced me. “You okay?”
“Yep,” I said, but I was shaking my head. He raised an eyebrow. “Nope. I’m scared to death of
motorcycles.”
He smiled, dropping my hand and cupping my face. “I’m good, Darien. I will keep you safe.”
“I’m not concerned about your ability, honey. I’m concerned about the morons on the road. You do know Oregon drivers are the worst! There’s rain, ew. There’s sunshine, ew. There’s traffic, ew.” Every time I said “ew,” I used jazz hands to drive home the drama, and admittedly, I was now rambling. However, Mack was laughing. I scowled. “Oh, suck it.”
This just made him laugh harder, but he leaned down and kissed me gently, a smile still on his lips. “Trust me to avoid the crazies, yeah?”
I nodded. “Okay. Do you have a helmet?”
“Yeah, baby, I have a helmet.”
“For me, Logan.”
“I know what you were asking.”
I took a deep breath. “Right. Okay.”
“You ready now?”
I nodded again and he led me to his gorgeous Harley Fatboy. It was all black and chrome and suited him to a tee. He took my purse and secured it in one of his lockable side luggage thingies and then handed me a very serious looking helmet. I pulled it on kissing my somewhat carefully styled hair goodbye and he helped me secure the chinstrap. He stationed me next to the bike, climbed on, and then guided me on behind him. “Hands around my waist, tight, lean when I lean.”
I nodded and he pulled his helmet on, started the bike, and raised the kickstand. I slid my arms around him, but he pulled them closer, and then we were off.
And I hated it. Every second of it. By the time we pulled over, I was sure I’d fused my body to his. I didn’t know where we were. I just knew I was so glad we’d stopped, I thought I might cry happy, sobby tears right then and there.
With me still clinging to him, he turned off the bike, pulled off his helmet, and lowered the kickstand. Reaching behind me, he helped me off the bike and onto my wholly unstable legs. He didn’t release me as he also climbed off, and then (with one hand) he released my chin strap. “Can you take this off?”
I nodded and pushed the helmet off my head. “Are we here?”
He shook his head. “We’re at my place.”
“Oh,” I said, and glanced around. “Is this our date?”
“No, baby.”
“You’re really lacking in the information department, Logan.”
Mack smiled. “Honey, you were shakin’ so bad, I thought you’d cause enough turbulence to crash us.”
I gasped. “Is that possible? Turbulence, I mean?”
“No, Darien. But you freakin’ out and crashin’ us? That is possible... if I weren’t a better rider.”
“Ohmigod, I’m so sorry.” I swallowed and dropped my head.
He lifted my chin and gave me a gentle smile. “Hey, it’s okay,” he said, and wrapped his arms around me.
I fell against him, both embarrassed and mortified... oh, and totally humiliated. I pushed away from him and crossed my arms. “I’m okay,” I breathed out. “We can try again.”
Mack shook his head. “I’m gonna put my bike away and we’re gonna take my car.”
“I’m so sorry, Logan.” I bit my lip. “I’ve ruined everything.”
“Darien,” he said with a chuckle. “You haven’t ruined anything. We’re just making a little change.” He stepped to the garage and entered a code into the panel on the frame. The door groaned as it opened, and he walked his bike inside. He set his helmet on the seat and mine on a shelf in the garage and then grabbed my purse from the locked side thingy. “Do you want a tour or go?”
“I’d love to see your home.”
He reached out his hand and I closed the distance between us, taking my purse and then linking my fingers with his. Mack guided me into the spacious kitchen and dropped his keys on the granite island before turning off the alarm.
Although his home had a definite masculine vibe, it was clean and tidy, and surprisingly spacious. He had three bedrooms, two bathrooms, a den, great room and the kitchen was incredible. State of the art stainless appliances, big center island with sink and dishwasher, and leather seated stools that fit perfectly with the decor.
There was also a basement with a pool table, huge sectional and seventy-inch television. A bathroom downstairs (not so clean) finished off the space.
We headed back up to the kitchen and Mack grabbed a different set of keys. “I can hear you thinking.”
I smiled. “That’s a really impressive gift.”
He pulled me to him, sitting on one of the stools so we were face to face. “What?”
“I just feel bad.”
“Why?”
I couldn’t look at him, but I managed to confess, “Because I’m a big fat chicken.”
Mack dropped his head back and laughed.
“I don’t find this very funny.” I frowned at him. “How can I date someone in a motorcycle ga—I mean, club, if I’m afraid to get on the back of his motorcycle?” I bit my lip. “I don’t want to embarrass you.”
“Darien.” He sobered and shook his head. “Not everyone feels comfortable on the back of a bike. It doesn’t make you a big fat chicken or an embarrassment to me.”
I looped my hands around his neck. “I had this whole plan to be a little more adventurous this year, and my second time out, I’ve failed.”
“Your second? When was the first?”
“The night I met you.” I smiled. “Technically, I guess that was the second because the first time I came I was turned away at the door.”
He gave me a gentle squeeze. “There’s a reason for that.”
“So I keep hearing.”
“Blush is a meat market, Darien. Not a good place for someone like you... or Dani for that matter. Booker and I made a decision a while ago that we still feel is the right one today, but I will admit, Kim forcing the issue meant I found you.”
“People like me?”
“Let’s say, not promiscuous.”
“You have no idea if I’m promiscuous or not. I might look sweet and innocent, but I could be a total slut for all you know.”
“Yeah?” he challenged. “How many men have you slept with?”
“Hundreds.”
Mack raised an eyebrow. “Really?”
“No, of course not, I’m just trying to make a point here. And, by the way, Millie isn’t promiscuous and she would have been let in last time, but she chose to leave with me.”
“The rule isn’t always perfect,” he admitted. “Regardless, and at the risk of getting hit, I’d venture a guess you’ve had a couple relationships, but that’d be about it.”
I shrugged.
“Close?” he asked.
I shook my head.
“Really?”
“I haven’t had any.”
“What?” He dropped his hands from my waist. “You’re a fuckin’ virgin, Darien?”
I stepped back, a little surprised by his anger.
Mack stood and paced the kitchen, dragging his hands down his face. “Shit.”
“I’m going to call a cab.”
He raised his hand. “No, you’re gonna stay right there and let me process this.”
“No, I don’t think I am.”
He stalked toward me. “Darien, just give me a second, okay?”
“Why? So you can find yet another thing lacking in me?”
“Babe, who the fuck told you you were lacking... in anything?”
“It doesn’t matter,” I snapped.
Mack took a deep breath and grabbed my hand, pulling me into the great room. He sat in one of the overstuffed chairs and settled me on his lap. “We’re gonna talk.”
I crossed my arms and forced down my need to flee.
“Why are you a virgin, Darien?” he asked. “Is it religious based?”
I shook my head. “No. It’s Dork Darien based.”
“What do you mean?”
“I feel like it’s a little early in our... relationship to unload all of that on you.”
“Can’t get to know each other
if we don’t unload.”
“Remember, you asked for it.” I sighed. “My dad split when Pauley was nine, I was four. My mom didn’t take it well. Pauley said about a year after Dad left, Mom checked out on life, sleeping with different men on a pretty regular basis, drinking a ton of vodka, that kind of thing. I don’t ever remember having a dad or a sober mom, but I was still a pretty happy kid because Pauley took care of me. But I was chubby, probably because we ate mac and cheese every day, and not the good stuff. Not enough money for Kraft, so we got the generic kind and when you’re raised on ramen noodles, crappy boxed food, and white bread, you don’t get a whole lot of nutrition. I was always in my own world, so I didn’t really realize I was fat until I went to middle school and I was told... every day. When I was about twelve, Mom met this really nice man, Mike, who had money, well, at least more money than we’d ever seen. They were married for about three or four years, and he paid for braces, which was awesome, but it meant I was now the fat, freckled, red-headed, brace-face, dork in middle school. It didn’t help that my sister was totally hot and in touch with her sexuality. Well, as in touch as you can be as a teenager. Mike divorced Mom when I was sixteen and she spiraled into the bottle again. Nothing was ever her fault. Not her affair with her coworker, not her affair with Mike’s best friend. None of it.”
“Babe,” he whispered.
“Pauley was my only constant. Mom was never a mom, even when she was “happy,” she wasn’t there. It was always all about her, so I had to navigate being the fat, freckled, red-headed, brace-face dork with Pauley as my guide. She tried, she really did, but she was a kid as well, and she’d lost far more than me because she knew our dad. She also had a real mom, even if it wasn’t for long. And she was gorgeous. Me, not so much, so she couldn’t relate to what I was going through. She was popular, I was not. She was sexy, I was not. Just before I turned eighteen, Mom died of liver cancer, and Pauley had to petition the courts to keep us together for the three months I had before I turned eighteen and it sucked, but she did it. Then I started working full time, she’d already been working full-time, but college wasn’t really an option, so we did what we had to do. By the time I figured out I was no longer the fat, freckled, red-headed, brace-face girl... still the dork, mind you, but starting to feel a little more comfortable in my skin... I had no time or energy to date. Let’s face it; I wasn’t going to find an eligible man under the age of eighty where I work, so here I sit, twenty-two, still fully complete with hymen.”
Road to Passion Page 5