by Parker, Ali
I took off down the street, squealing the wheels just to tease her a little. Her thighs tightened around me, pulling a laugh as she tightened her arms around me. I found some open road and got to open it up a little, being careful not to break the speed limit or do anything that put her life in danger. I didn’t want to scare her. She would never get on my bike again.
We came to a red light, I stopped, putting my foot down and holding the bike up. I turned to look at her, her eyes behind the visor barely visible. I reached out and hit the button, popping it up. She looked like she was having the time of her life.
“Good?” I asked.
She nodded, giving me a thumbs up. I flipped her visor down before turning back around, watching the light. A car pulled up alongside us. It was a younger guy, eyeing my bike, clearly recognizing it for the well-built machine it was. The second it turned green, I hit the throttle, taking off so fast I felt her slide back a little. I swore I heard a giggle and knew she was loving the thrill of the ride. It was hard not to. I remembered my first ride on a motorcycle. I had taken the car my dad had bought me, sold it for almost nothing, and bought a motorcycle. That was probably one of the last times my parents had truly been furious with me. That’s when they had given up, realizing then I was never going to conform.
I parked in front of the casual restaurant on the outskirts of the city and cut the engine. Adelaide climbed off, standing next to the bike and pulling off her helmet. I watched her do it, mind playing it in slow motion. She pulled it off, her hair springing free and slowly shaking her head. It was every one of my fantasies come to life. I pulled off my own helmet, sticking it on the seat before taking the one from her.
Her face was flushed. She had an energy vibrating around her. I recognized it. I felt the same thing after an exhilarating ride.
“Ready to eat?” I asked her.
“I feel like my insides are vibrating.” She giggled.
I smiled, loving I could do that for her. “It’s a rush, huh?”
She nodded. “I’ll admit, I was a little freaked out at first. Maybe I still am, but it was like riding a crazy wild roller coaster. Terrifying and fun at the same time.”
“One of these days, I will have to take you on a real ride. Up north, a back road with nothing but straight blacktop in front of you, now that’s a ride. It’s an amazing feeling, indescribable. I love going up there in October. It gives new meaning to leaf-peeping. It isn’t the same looking at the colors from behind a windowpane or trapped in a car. It’s like you’re right there in the trees.”
Her eyes widened. “That sounds amazing.”
“It is. I’ll have to take you sometime,” I said.
“I think I’d like that. I didn’t think I’d like the whole motorcycle thing, but it wasn’t so bad,” she said, sounding surprised.
“Next time I’ll have to take you on my Harley,” I told her.
“How many bikes do you have?”
“Three. I usually ride the Harley, but I bring this one out on occasion. The other one is a custom chopper that is really all for show. I do have a car as well. I don’t care to ride in the snow; although, I’m never usually around New York during the winter. I prefer to fly to warmer climates,” I said with a laugh.
“Wow,” she muttered, and I realized I had probably said too much.
I knew one of her major beefs with me was my trust fund. She had made it very clear time and again that she thought I was a spoiled trust fund kid. I had just given her even more reasons to believe that. I hadn’t meant it to come out arrogant. I only meant to tell her I had a car and if we went out again, she wouldn’t be forced to ride on the back of my motorcycle in frigid temperatures. It had all come out so wrong, but there was nothing to do for it now.
“Let’s go in. This place serves a great fish-and-chip platter,” I offered. “Does that sound okay? We can go somewhere else.”
“No, that sounds great.”
“It’s a nice evening, do you want to eat on the patio?” I asked.
She shrugged. “Sure.”
The place was super casual. A place that welcomed bikers and anyone who may not be welcomed in one of the uppity restaurants in the city. We were given a table on the covered patio.
“Want a beer?” I asked her, feeling like I needed to ease her into my life. She always gave me the impression she was used to the finer things in life.
“Are you drinking?” she asked hesitantly.
“I’ll have one,” I answered.
“Okay.”
I ordered two beers from the waitress, who promised to be back in a few minutes. Neither of us spoke for a few minutes. It was a little tense. We’d kind of done everything backassward. Sex and then dinner weren’t usually the way these things went.
“Mason?” she said my name with a question.
“Yes?”
“What is this? I mean, what are we doing?” she asked.
“We’re having dinner. I thought we had established this earlier. Do you not normally eat dinner?” I teased.
She rolled her eyes, opening her mouth and then quickly snapping it shut and smiling at the waitress who delivered our beers.
“We need a few minutes,” I told her.
She winked at me. “Take your time, hon,” she said and walked away.
“I’m asking what we’re doing here because this doesn’t make sense,” she said, sounding exasperated.
“Adelaide, seriously, it’s a fucking dinner. Not even a nice one at that,” I said, getting a little tired of the question.
“Why me? I’ve been trying to figure out what you’re up to and I can’t for the life of me understand why you wanted to take me to dinner,” she reasoned.
I smiled. “Why you? Um, I don’t know. I had a good time the other night. I kind of got the feeling you did as well. Why not have dinner. You seem to have it in your head I asked you to a sketchy motel that charges by the hour. This is a restaurant. There are people here and lots of lights. This isn’t about sex.”
She blushed a little with my bluntness. “But you hate me.”
I laughed, watching her get flustered. My little princess was off her game. I liked that I could do that. She was certainly a very capable, witty woman who could give as good as she got, but just then, I liked seeing her a little agitated.
Chapter 18
Adelaide
I couldn’t seem to take my eyes off him. He was handsome in a very different way. The sun was setting, casting him in a soft orange glow on the patio. The light softened his features, made him look approachable almost. He’d taken off his leather jacket and hung it on the back of the chair. I got a chance to look at the tats down his left arm a little better. I didn’t want to get caught staring and kept telling myself to look away.
I could see some kind of tribal-type thing around his upper arm. There was what appeared to be a motorcycle of some sort, but I couldn’t say for sure. There was a dagger and maybe an assortment of flowers. My eyes traced over the lines. It was like studying an abstract piece of art and trying to find all the little goodies carefully hidden inside the piece.
“Hate is a strong word,” he said, snapping me back to the present.
I blinked, pulling my eyes away from his muscular arm. “What?”
“Hate. I don’t think I’ve ever hated you, princess,” he said.
I scoffed. “Liar.”
“I didn’t hate you. I just didn’t really understand you.”
“Oh, because you’re so easy to understand,” I shot back.
He held up a hand, as if to temper my response. “I mean, Deanna always talks about how sweet and kind you are and how you are selfless and compassionate. I never saw it. Every time we’ve ever seen each other, you’ve come at me with your fangs bared and your claws out.”
I opened my mouth to protest what he was saying, but quickly snapped it closed again. “Really? That’s how you see me?”
He shrugged. “Yes. I don’t mean it as a bad thing. I guess I�
��m kind of the same way. I recognize a kindred spirit.”
I raised my eyebrows. “We are two very different people.”
“Are we?”
“Yes, we most definitely are.”
“You have your fangs out and your defenses up because you are on guard. You don’t want anyone getting in close, so you go on the attack. I guess I do the same,” he said.
I thought about what he said. “Why do you think that?”
“Because I’ve known you for a long time. When was the last time you made a new friend, a real friend?”
I shrugged a shoulder. “I don’t know. Deanna is my best friend.”
“And you’ve known her for most of your life,” he pointed out.
I nodded. “Yes.”
“You only let people in that have known you for a really, really long time,” he said, softly.
“Oh,” I said, for lack of anything better to say.
He looked at me with an intensity that made me a little uncomfortable. I took a long drink from my beer, noticing he had barely touched his and was drinking water instead. I didn’t comment on it, but I liked that he wasn’t drinking.
“Why is that?” he whispered.
“What?”
“Why do you think you keep people at arm’s length?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“I’d like to know,” he said sincerely.
I studied his face, seeing the genuine concern. “Why? Why do you care?”
He offered a small smile. “I don’t know. Because I think I’m the same way. If you can give me the answer, maybe I’ll understand what makes me tick.”
I laughed. “You think?” I said sarcastically.
He was the one who had tall walls erected all around him. He was the one who bit everyone’s heads off and was always casting dirty looks around the room. He was the one who did what he could to look scary and unapproachable. Was I really like him? That was kind of a scary thought.
“I do. Deanna and Dalton are probably closer to me than my own family. They know me better than my family. I trust them more than my brothers,” he confessed.
I watched him, confident he was being completely honest. It was a tiny little peek into his world. I didn’t truly know him. I knew that. I knew him through Deanna and Dalton, but it was like surface stuff. I had never given him a chance to show me who he really was. I thought I knew him because we’d spent a lot of time together, but that time had always been spent arguing and never really getting anywhere.
“Why? It’s my turn to ask why,” I said.
He held up a finger. “Hold that thought,” he murmured.
The waitress came back to the table. Mason looked to me to give my order first. I felt foolish. I hadn’t even opened the damn menu. I looked at him, quietly asking for help.
“We’ll have two orders of the fish-and-chips. Do you want another beer?” he asked me.
I shook my head. “No thank you, but can I get a Diet Coke.”
The waitress smiled and nodded before walking away. Mason looked at me again. “This is probably not what you’re used to, is it?”
I laughed. “This is exactly what I’m used to.”
“I’ve always had this idea you came from a wealthy family,” he murmured.
“No. You would have the very wrong idea.”
“Hmm, interesting,” he murmured.
“Why Dalton? How did the two of you meet?” I asked.
“School. Dalton was kind of an outcast at the time. We just kind of hit it off,” he replied.
“Dalton was an outcast?” I asked with surprise.
Mason took a drink of his water. His lips on the rim of the glass made me think about the way they felt on my lips. I wanted to kiss him again. I wouldn’t. I couldn’t, but Lord have mercy I wanted to.
“He was kind of a skinny, weird kid. I teased him and called him a butterfly. He practically blossomed overnight into a man right around tenth grade. Then I was the weird, awkward one,” he said, a smile playing over his lips.
“Yeah, right. I find that very hard to believe.”
He nodded. “I was. I still am. It’s why Dalton is still my friend. He’s taken pity on me,” he replied and once again, he was using sarcasm to deflect.
Listening to him do it and watching him do it made me realize we really were very much alike. It was kind of a scary realization.
“No one pities you,” I told him.
He smirked. “I suppose not.”
“Dalton and Deanna are good people,” I stated.
“They are. They are the only two people I’ve met who have accepted me for who I am. They don’t turn their noses up at me and they haven’t tried to change me. They don’t tell me to cut my hair, get a job, or to be nicer,” he said.
I realized he was speaking from the heart. I realized I hadn’t tried to change him, but I hadn’t accepted him for who he was. I had let his appearance dictate my reaction to him. I knew better than to judge a book by its cover, but I did it anyway.
“I did.”
“No, you didn’t, but you certainly aren’t going to be the person in my corner encouraging me to be who I am,” he said matter-of-factly.
“I’m sorry,” I blurted out.
“Don’t be sorry. You are who you are. You have your opinions and that’s fine.”
I shook my head. “Still, I’m guilty of not giving you a chance.”
He smiled. “We’re all guilty of that. I judged you as well.”
I grinned, realizing that was indeed true. “I suppose you did.”
The waitress came by and delivered our dinners in little red baskets with wax paper. It looked and smelled great. I loved greasy foods that were horribly unhealthy for my body.
“How long have you had the coffee shop?” he asked, taking a bite of his fry.
“Three years—almost.”
“Wow. I probably know this, but how old are you?” he asked.
“Twenty-eight. You?” I asked, not entirely sure.
It felt like he had been stuck at twenty-five for as long as I had known him. I suspected he was the same age as Dalton, but I didn’t really know for sure.
“I’m thirty-two. Yes, I know I don’t look it or act like it, and quite frankly, in my opinion, that’s a good thing.”
I giggled. “I see. You purposely want to stay young forever.”
“I won’t stay young forever and I won’t try, but I won’t live my life like I have a million tomorrows. I have today. I have right now and that’s where I choose to live.”
“You don’t think about your future?” I asked.
He shook his head. “Nope, not really. I don’t know if I have a future. I don’t want to waste time thinking and worrying about something I might not have. That takes time away from the right now.”
I mulled over what he was saying. “Wow. That’s why you blow money all the time.”
He chuckled. “I suppose you could say that. My godmother died with a boatload of money in her account. She had no family to inherit her wealth. She was a workaholic and spent her days building her fortune. Then she died. She used to tell me she wanted to travel and see all these exotic places. She was going to do all that when she retired. She never retired. She worked up until her last day on earth. She certainly didn’t expect to die at the age of sixty-two. It just happened. I don’t want to be in that last minute of my life and think, oh shit, I wasted all that time making money I never got to spend.”
I didn’t even know what to say to all of that. “That’s so—I don’t know, dark.”
“I don’t think it’s dark. I think it’s realistic. Look how many people have bucket lists and shit like that. Do they ever actually do them?” he asked.
I shrugged a shoulder. “I think a lot of people do. Unfortunately, I think a lot of people have those lists, but they don’t have the means to fulfill all their wishes.”
“You’re probably right about that. My brothers are prime examples of living half l
ives. They have money and they could do anything, but they choose to go to work and make more money instead of doing things that make them happy. I like making memories—not money,” he said.
“Don’t your older brothers have wives, families?”
“Yes, but they’re at work long hours every day. How much are they really enjoying their families?” he reasoned.
I shook my head. “I don’t honestly know. I think we’re all wired a little differently. You’re living like you have one foot in the grave. You’re trying to live a full life in a week. I think I’m more like your brothers. I want to work, be successful in business, and hopefully retire one day to travel and cross those things off my bucket list. You’re a very fortunate man to have what you do.”
“I am and I appreciate it every day. Antoinette, my godmother, she didn’t get to live the life she dreamed about. I’m using her money to do it for her. I hope her spirit is out there somewhere seeing everything I’m seeing, feeling the rush I get when I hit the freeway on my bike.”
“That’s very sweet,” I said softly.
He almost gagged on his fish. “Sweet?”
“You’re thinking about her when you’re living your best life. That is sweet. Were you two close?” I asked him.
He nodded. I saw the grief on his face, in his eyes. “We were. She was like my second mom. In fact, she was like my first mom a lot of times. She never judged me for what I wanted to do. She didn’t lecture me when I told her I didn’t want to go into the family business. She supported me always, unconditionally.”
My heart hurt for him. Just talking to him gave me a whole new insight into who he was and why he was the way he was. It was a real eye-opener. He was sharing and being honest with me. I felt like I should open up to him as well.
Chapter 19
Mason
I couldn’t believe how much I was talking. It felt like a huge boulder had been removed from my mouth and the words were just flowing out. I couldn’t ever remember having such an in-depth conversation with another person. Hell, I couldn’t remember speaking that many words in a single day. She triggered my need to talk and share. It was a little disconcerting and part of me was telling myself to pull back, rein it in.