by L. Wilder
As I headed for the stairs, I said, “Okay, suit yourself. I’m headed to bed.”
I’d just hit the first step when he asked, “You gonna tell me who that was?”
“Who?” I knew exactly who he was talking about.
“The guy on the 2015 Limited Edition Harley Road Glide Special that just pulled up to our house and dropped you off?”
“Oh… umm… I don’t know. Just some guy. I had a little car trouble, so he offered to bring me home,” I explained.
“Why didn’t you call me?”
Knowing he’d crawl all over me for locking my keys in the car, I lied, “I knew you weren’t feeling well, so I just—”
He yanked the rag off of his forehead and sat up on the sofa. He reminded me of our father as he glared at me with his dark brown eyes and bellowed, “Dammit, Marley Jo. Who knows who this guy is? He could’ve–”
Before he could continue, I held up my hand and shouted, “Don’t even start with me, Brandon. I managed to survive just fine, and I don’t need a lecture from you… or Dad.”
“You got lucky this time.” He coughed and grumbled as he fell back on his pillow and placed the rag back on his forehead. “Where’d you leave your car? I’ll go take a look at it in the morning.”
I knew he’d ask. He always asked. It was one of the many negatives of living in the same house with two overbearing men. When Mom died, I had thought moving in with my dad was the best way to help him. I needed a place to stay; I’d just graduated from law school and started my job at the firm in town. It just made sense. Then, Brandon had decided to build a house and moved in with Dad when construction began. It was good to be all together again, but now the house seemed so much smaller than it did when we were kids. All sense of privacy was gone. If Brandon found out I didn’t have my keys, he’d have a cow. So I did the only thing I knew to do: I lied.
I walked over to the front door and locked the deadbolt as I said, “I’ve already called a wrecker service. I knew you weren’t feeling good, so I just told them to go out there and get it.”
“Why’d you go and do that? Do you have any idea how expensive that is?”
“I do… and I said I took care of it,” I told him as I turned and stormed up the stairs, avoiding any chance that he’d tell me to cancel the tow. Once I was in my room, I quickly threw on my pajamas and curled into bed. I was exhausted, but there was no way I was going to get any sleep. I couldn’t stop thinking about him—the sexy curve of his lips when he smiled, the intoxicating scent of his cologne, the spark in his eyes when he looked at me, and the way my body tingled when I got on his bike and wrapped my arms around him. Every breath I took brought on another thought or memory, and there was nothing I could do to stop it, and I wasn’t so sure I wanted to. I liked the way I felt when I was with him.
I stared at the ceiling for hours, reliving every moment I’d shared with him, and the longer I lay in the bed, the harder it was to stay there. I decided to stop fighting it and got up. I put on my bathrobe and once I had my slippers on, I headed downstairs to the kitchen for a cup of coffee. It was early, long before my dad or brother would be getting up, so I decided to take advantage of the quiet. While my coffee was brewing, I headed out to the front door to get the morning paper. As usual, it just barely made it to the porch and was teetering on the side of the deck. I picked it up and was just about to step back inside when I noticed my car pulling into the driveway. I stood there and watched as it stopped right at the garage door. The door opened, and a tall, muscular man with a baseball cap and cowboy boots, looking like he’d been plucked right out of a cotton field in Tennessee, stepped out of the car. I was a little taken aback to see Farmer John walking towards me.
As he reached the front steps, he smiled and said, “We got your car for ya.”
“We?” I cocked my head to the side and studied him for a moment before I asked, “Umm… and who are you?”
“Oh… I’m sorry, ma’am. I’m Boozer. One of the brothers from the club. Smokey wanted me to get your car back to you before you had to go to work, so…” he told me as he extended his hand out to me. I could only assume that the Smokey he was referring to was the biker guy from last night. I thought back to those gorgeous, blue eyes and that black beard and wondered how he’d managed to get the nickname Smokey. I was lost in my thoughts when Boozer continued, “Here ya go.”
I took the keys from him. “Thank you… umm, Boozer. I really appreciate it. How much do I owe you?”
“Not a thing, Sweet Pea. Smokey took care of it.” Then he started walking towards the road. Just as he reached the sidewalk, a black SUV pulled up next to him. Before he got in the truck, he waved at me and shouted, “Let us know if you need anything else.”
Before I could stop him, he slammed his door. Goosebumps began to prickle against my skin as the truck inched away from the curb. Feeling a strange sensation that I was being watched, I pulled my robe tighter around my waist and stared at the dark-tinted windows, trying to see if I could make out who was sitting in the driver’s seat. Warmth rushed over me when I noticed a familiar dark beard and a wrist covered in the same leather bracelets I’d seen last night.
It was him. I couldn’t stop myself from watching the SUV as it slowly made its way down the street, and I suddenly became scared that it might be the last time I’d ever see my mysterious biker.
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Table of Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Epilogue
Acknowledgements
Excerpt from “Smokey”