Why Her?: May December Romance (Mistaken Identities Book 2)

by Rie Warren

  I didn’t even complain when Brodie pulled Roxy out of the baby papoose-thing he was wearing to hand her over to me so he could go dance with Ashe to the live band. As far as babies went, Roxy was a cutie-pie. And all us MC dudes were honorary uncles.

  I clutched the little biker princess in one arm, laughing when she gurgled at me. I had her Harley burp rag over one shoulder, ready to catch any spit-up she might project at any moment. I knew a thing or two about taking care of people, just not one so tiny—yet.

  When I swung Roxy up into the air a few times—Brodie giving me the evil eye like I was gonna drop his precious girl—she let out a baby belly laugh that made me chuckle.

  That was when I saw Maddy watching me.

  Hell yeah.

  Maybe I wouldn’t score with Maddy, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t score points with her.

  Points I aimed to rack up higher later in the evening. Handsome and Shy had cleared out early, most likely to go at it like rabbits somewhere. Most of the partiers had left, all the business-y type folks, too.

  “Hey, Tail.” Hunter called out, JB curled against his side. “You heading over to Retribution with us?”

  “Nah. Think I’m gonna stay and help.”

  Brodie strutted by. “You sure that’s such a good idea? You know, what with Handsome wanting to murder you and all?”

  “Not sure at all.” I swiped a hand across my chin. “Probably the worst idea I ever had.”

  Brodie hit me with a knuckle bump. “Good luck with that then.”

  And then it was just Maddy and me, the huge double doors of the brewery still rolled open, admitting the night sounds and scents of the Wando docks area on the river.

  “I’m fine, Tail, really.” Maddy frowned at me, voice firm, hand propped on one hip. “And I meant what I said earlier.”

  I saluted her with two fingers and straightened up to my full height. “I’m not puttin’ the moves on you, sweetness. I read you loud and clear. Now, what can I do?”

  She studied me a few more seconds before her lashes fluttered down and she let out a little sigh, stretching her back. “Well, I need to break down the tables and—”

  “Okay.” I strolled over to her and took her by the shoulders. “Make you a deal. You go sit down over there and lemme handle it.” Smirking, I added, “You can even boss me around if you want.”

  Boss me around, she did. And it was hot being with a woman who knew exactly what she wanted. I didn’t even hit her with any innuendo, just kept my head down and did the grunt work as ordered.

  Muscles bulging, I muled the tables from the main floor back into the storage area. Caught pretty Miss Maddy staring on more than one occasion, too. I gave her an extra flex for that, lifting a couple crates of beer to store in the industrial-sized fridge.

  “You have a lot of tats,” she mentioned.

  Mmm. Did I detect a little breathy interest in Maddy’s voice?

  “Kind of a biker rite of passage.” I dusted off hands the size of shovels and indicated the full sleeves decorated in vibrant designs, including my dad’s RIP under the Retribution colors. “There’s more.” With a grin, I started lifting the bottom of my T-shirt. “Wanna see the rest?”

  Maddy blushed when my cut abs came into view, and she sounded even more breathless. “I don’t think so. Anyway, I thought Kinkaid was the stripper of the crew.”

  “I wasn’t offering to strip.” But I lifted the bottom of the shirt anyway to wipe a bead of sweat rolling down my temple.

  Could’ve sworn I heard a low moan coming from Maddy’s direction.

  I could easily grow addicted to that sound.

  Showing no reaction—hoping she didn’t notice the hard roll of flesh filling out the crotch of my old jeans—I went back to work.

  Closing up Retribrewtion was so different from closing up Retribution with an armful of honeys hangin’ off me. Good honest work. Taking care of shit so Maddy could chill out for a few moments. I didn’t mind getting sweaty for her. Not one bit. Hoped to get sweaty with her at some point, too.

  Not tonight, though.

  By the time I clicked off the far lights, Maddy’s eyelids had started drooping down.

  I squatted in front of her, gently touching her cheek just for a feel of her soft skin.

  She startled a little and wrinkled her nose. Those intensely beautiful eyes found mine, sleepy and unguarded.

  “Tired, huh?” I asked.

  “It was a long day.” She stretched her arms up, nearly popping her tits right into my face.

  I stood up instead of latching on. “You fucking rocked it out, by the way.”

  “You have a very interesting vocabulary.” She took the hand I offered, then let me help her into her jacket.

  “Yeah. Not exactly South of Broad material.” I looked down at the leather cut on my shoulders, the chunky rings on my fingers.

  “No. Definitely not.” She giggled.

  “What are you laughing at?” I squinted at the woman.

  “Just trying to picture you wearing a seersucker suit.”

  I shuddered, and she laughed, knocking against my shoulder. “Don’t worry. You suit all . . . this.”

  She cast her gaze over me again.

  “Good to know.” More than good to know. Fucking superlative. I held out my arm. “Shall we?”

  After guiding Maddy outside, I waited while she locked the doors, pocketed the keys.

  “Can I give you a ride home?” I motioned to my bike, an old-school Harley Shovelhead with sixteen-inch ape hangers. Pretty much as badass as me.

  “I’ve got my own ride.” She stopped beside a sweet little Lincoln MK coupe—classy and sexy, just like her. “But thank you for helping. That didn’t suck.”

  She looked faintly surprised I hadn’t put the moves on her, and it was on the tip of my tongue to roll that suck comment into something completely suggestive. But I didn’t really wanna be the pussy hound with her.

  Opening the car door for her, I waited while she slid her legs in and started the expensive engine.

  “That’s some hot rod.” I let out a low whistle.

  “Sometimes I like to go really, really fast.” Her plump lips curved into a smile.

  My cock thumped in my jeans. I hung over the open door instead of stabbing her in the face with my groin. “So I’ll see you around?”

  “I’ll see you around, Tail.”

  After I shut the door, she rolled down her window. “Thanks for the help. Goodnight.”

  I knocked on the roof a couple times and nodded. “G’night, Maddy.”

  She roared off as soon as I stepped back. And there in the empty parking lot of Retribrewtion, I lit a smoke, watching Maddy Rush drive away, my hand raised in the air.

  Well, shit.

  Looked like I was hooked.

  The cherry babes had gotten stale.

  I stood on the spot, finishing my cig, chuckling to myself.

  I was fucked without even getting fucked.

  ****

  A little while later, I pulled into the driveway of my house, throttling down. I parked the black beast of a bike beside my pickup, hit the kickstand, took off my brain bucket.

  Tonight there was a little snap in the air, and it felt good. Fresh.

  I took the steps to the brick ranch, swiped my boots on the mud rug, unlocked the front door. The house I’d grown up in had changed a lot. I’d made a million improvements over the years, thinking maybe someday I’d flip it, but I couldn’t really do that now. Not yet.

  Lights blazed in the entryway, shining on the refinished floors.

  Shucking off my leather, I called out, “Hey, honey! I’m home.”

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  Acknowledgments

  Well, don’t be shy, y’all. Tell me what you think of Kane and Stevie—preferably in a review so you can sing my praises? Hahahaha . . . maybe? I have loved the two Mistaken Identities books and hope you enjoyed them just as much as I had fun writing them.

  It’s Big Huge Thanks time! I have to give mad love to Niki Sass for making one awesome suggestion that changed the direction of this book. To April Gasaway and Christine Cox for pointing out one huge plot canyon, which made me take a break, sit back, and let the ideas come fresh and fast and perfectly. And always, much love and thanks to Gilly Wright’s Red Pen! Gillian Littlehale is so much more than an editor. Although, no matter how many times she tries to school me, I still—honest to god—cannot wrap my head around the difference between reign and rein. But bless her for trying to school me . . . over and over and over again.

  Big kisses to all my Facebook people, the folks on IG, and most especially my readers and reviewers who appreciate true romance. I heart you. Cheers to my sexy all-lady street team! You rock my world and keep me laughing.

  Happy, sexy reading to all.

  XOXO,

  Rie~

  About Rie

  Rie is the badass, sassafras author of Sugar Daddy and the Don’t Tell series—a breakthrough trilogy that crossed traditional publishing boundaries beginning with In His Command. Her latest endeavors include the Carolina Bad Boys, a fun, hot, and southern-sexy series, spin-off series such as Bad Boys of Retribution MC and Bad Boys of X-Ops, and the always fun, completely dirty, out of this world Intergalactic Lurve books.

  A Yankee transplant who has traveled the world, Rie started out a writer—causing her college professor to blush over her erotic poetry without one ounce of shame. Not much has changed. She swapped pen for paintbrushes and followed her other love during her twenties. From art school to marriage to children and many a wild and wonderful journey in between, Rie has come home to her calling. Her work has been called edgy, daring, and some of the sexiest smut around.

  You can connect with Rie via the social media hangouts listed on her website http://www.riewarren.com.