by Piper Rayne
He stares at me for a moment, soaking in my words. When he opens his mouth, I’m already turned off to anything he’s going to say.
“I think you’ve not only lost sight of yourself, you’ve lost sight of the people of this town.” He stands and tucks in his chair. “I’ll leave it in your hands.”
Unsure of what to say, I stare at him while he walks around the conference table.
He rests his hand on my shoulder and leans down to my ear. “I’ll see you at home, honey.”
With the click of the door shutting behind him, I search for meaning in his earlier words. I’ve never imagined living anywhere other than Lake Starlight. I love it, but Liam’s right. Lately I dodge downtown as though it’s flush with flesh-eating zombies. Who is Liam Kelly? Lake Starlight’s Buddha?
Twenty
Liam
On Sunday, I’m sitting at the breakfast island, reading the paper and drinking my coffee, when Savannah returns from a run. She doesn’t notice me right away because as soon as she comes in, she’s logging something in a small book in her purse, staring at her watch.
“How fast were you today?” I ask.
She startles, dropping her pen on the floor.
My gaze soaks her in like a dry towel. Sweat has left a sheen on her skin, and her running shorts stop right at her ass, making her long legs appear even longer. Her tight sports bra and tank top don’t hide her figure in the slightest, and I have to shift in my seat to find a comfortable position for my growing hard-on.
“Too slow.”
“Listening to a podcast?” I arch my eyebrow. I knew she wouldn’t take my suggestion about switching to music.
“Yes.” She drops the booklet and pen back into her purse, toeing out of her running shoes. She pads across the room and opens the fridge.
“Denver returns today,” I say with my eyes on the paper as though I’m not pissed about it.
I love my buddy, but having the place to ourselves has been nice. Had we meditated in front of Denver, he would’ve razzed me forever or joined in—you never really know with that guy. Friday night, we ordered pizza and watched When Harry Met Sally. I never pegged Savannah as liking romantic comedies. Maybe because it’s so rare that she laughs.
“I know.” Am I imagining that her words sound deflated like mine?
“How do you think the meditating thing went?” I ask.
She turns around, yogurt in hand, and grabs a spoon, then she slides out the breakfast stool next to me. She props up one foot, and I can’t help but notice the way her shorts are wide enough that they hang down a bit. If she was mine, I’d have free access to slide them down, pick her up, and position her on my lap. But sadly, she isn’t.
She says, “I liked it. I’m going to keep it up. You’re probably going to make fun of me for this, but… I see it like a challenge to clear my mind. To be able to eventually sit there for twenty minutes with a clear mind.”
I laugh and put the paper down, sipping my coffee. She’s adorably predictable. I’d love to be able to kiss her and say, “Yeah, I get it.” She’s not going to turn into that naïve nineteen-year-old who looked at the world with hope and an unsullied view. She went through a hurricane in a dingy, stranded in the middle of the ocean. It changed her in ways there’s no reversing. But it doesn’t mean she can’t enjoy her life a lot more than she does at present.
“I’m not going to make fun of you as long as you don’t tell anyone that I might continue doing it too.” I get up to refill my cup. “Coffee?”
“Sure.”
I fill her cup, add a splash of milk, and return to the island. After I set the cup in front of her though, I keep my distance because I’m having a really hard time being so close to her when she has so few clothes on. “I got you something.”
“What? Why?” Her face wrinkles in confusion, or irritation maybe.
I head to my den where my desk is and grab the box with the nice ribbon the sales lady added for me. Placing the box in front of her, I step back to take in her reaction. She stares at me with awe and a small smile. It looks as if she’s trying not to let it shine too brightly.
“Open it,” I urge and return to my coffee, slightly embarrassed. I’ve only ever bought a woman a gift once in my lifetime, and that was in high school.
She unties the ribbon slowly as though she’s savoring the anticipation. With her hands resting on the sides of the box, she peeks at me again. I wish I could snap a picture without her knowing because I want nothing more than to savor her expression. It’s one of true happiness, and I’d buy her a million more presents for the rest of our lives if I could see that same look every time.
“I’m so excited.” She’s practically giddy, and I’m eating up every moment. After opening the box, she carefully moves the tissue paper away and looks at the contents for a breath-halting moment before picking up the leather journal.
“It’s red because I think it’s one of your favorite colors?”
The sales lady had asked me, and after running through Savannah’s outfits in my head, I realized that she wears red more than any other color.
“It is.” She smiles.
“There’s a pen in there too.”
A small sigh leaks out of her throat and she shifts in the chair. “Liam—”
“It’s for you to write down thoughts. Anything you want, but I read an article that said you should write down at least one thing you’re grateful for every day.”
She thumbs through the empty pages that are ready for her deep thoughts, or what her day was like, or just to doodle flowers and stars on. “I love it.”
“I’m glad.”
Our eyes lock over the breakfast bar, and she slides off the stool. Our gazes don’t waver the entire time she rounds the counter. Instinctively, I place my coffee mug on the counter and open my arms.
She rises on her tiptoes, wraps her arms around my neck, and hugs me. “Thank you.”
I wrap my arms around her waist. We stand with mere inches between our bodies, and I breathe her in. Even after her run, this must be what heaven is like.
“You’re welcome,” I whisper, and she shivers before falling down to her heels. I let her go and step back.
“You could’ve just told me I should buy one.”
I shake my head. “Keep it locked up if you don’t want anyone to read it.”
“What?” She heads back to her stool, looking over the journal again as though she can’t wait to put a pen to paper and jot down everything that runs through that pretty head of hers.
“You used to leave your diary in easy-to-find places.”
The journal drops out of her hands onto the granite counter and her mouth hangs open. “You read my diary?”
“I was a twelve-year-old boy.” I shrug. “I was only a reader, not the seeker.”
“Denver?” she asks.
I nod.
“And what did you find out about me?”
I dump my coffee in the sink and put my cup in the dishwasher. “Just that you hoped Ian Troppel would ask you to prom and you were going to make a voodoo doll of Mr. Japlin because he gave you a B on a paper.”
She laughs. I love the way the sound bounces off the walls and fills the room. Even more, I love that I caused it. “I wonder what happened to my old diary?”
I shrug.
“You guys didn’t take it or anything?”
“I can’t speak for your brothers, but I didn’t.”
She hugs the journal. “Thanks again. I’d gladly pay you—”
I put up my hand. “Stop. You’re welcome.” Her small smile says how grateful she is I got her a gift. I shouldn’t push my luck, but I’m going to. “Want to go on a ride with me today?”
“As in?” She puts the tissue paper and journal back in the box and secures it with the lid, bunching the ribbon in her hand.
“A ride on my Harley. I’m doing it for a charity, and I thought you’d like to join me.”
She raises her chin slightly. I can
see I’m going to be shot down. “And I’d have to ride?”
I try to fight back a smile, but it breaks through. “On the back of my bike.”
Her body sinks down on her stool, but not in a way that indicates she thinks that’s the worst option available. “Um…”
“Well, you can think about it. I have to go shower. I’m leaving in about an hour.” I head to the staircase.
“Liam?”
I circle back around, raising my eyebrows in question.
“What is the charity for?”
My lips desperately want to turn up. “It’s for this bar I go to. The waitresses need new tube tops.”
Her nostrils flare until she catches on that I’m joking.
“Remember the trooper who died a few months back? A car hit him while he had a vehicle stopped?”
She nods.
“For his family.”
Her phone dings. We both glance at her purse on the opposite counter.
“That’s a nice thing to do,” she says.
“Like I said, you can think it over and let me know.” I shrug as though it doesn’t affect me either way. It does though.
Her phone dings again.
I point at her purse. “You better get that. Family members to tend to. Fires to put out.”
I run up the stairs before she can give me a quick comeback. After shutting my bedroom door, I turn on my shower, hoping she takes the bait. Not only because having her arms wrapped around me would be the best thing to happen all week, but it’d be good for her. She doesn’t understand how freeing and peaceful it is to take a ride on a motorcycle.
Ten minutes later, I’m wrapping a towel around my waist when there’s a knock on my bedroom door. I could ask her to wait a minute while I get dressed. That would be the right thing to do after we agreed to leave whatever sexual tension was building between us in the past. But I feel as though if I don’t help her along a little bit, she’ll stall out at some point.
I open the door, and Savannah’s eyes zero in on my abs before dipping lower. I guess I was wrong about that. Who knew?
“Get that Cheshire Cat grin off your face. You’re trying to tempt me.” She points at me and I laugh.
“Sorry.” I bite my lower lip, which I know drives her crazy.
“Oh. My. God. I was just about to agree to go with you, but now.” Her hands wave at my body.
I snatch her hand and she tries to pull away. “I’m sorry. It was convenient for me to answer, but you’re right, I knew what I was doing. Just to be fair though, you walking in a sweaty mess in less than a yard of fabric isn’t exactly fair either.”
The apples of her cheeks pinken.
“Come. I promise a good time.” I squeeze her hand.
She slides her palm out of mine and pokes my chest. “No monkey business.”
“Okay.” I hold up my hand. “I promise not to swing from limb to limb and throw poop.”
There go her nostrils again, but she turns on her heels and locks herself in the guest bathroom.
It feels like a small victory, but a victory, nonetheless. I won’t tell her yet that she has to make sure to hold on tight today. I mean, we don’t want to crash.
Twenty-One
Savannah
We arrive at a bar on the side of a highway way out of town and park in the long line of bikes already there. From the huge building hangs a banner with a picture of the deceased trooper and his family. Liam fist-bumps a few people on our way to the registration table, but he doesn’t introduce me. I catch lingering gazes with silent questions in them. Spotting me in this crowd is as easy as finding a burned piece of white rice in a bowl. Maybe coming here was a mistake.
At the table, he says, “Liam Kelly,” and the woman places a checkmark next to his name and hands him two tickets. “Thanks.”
He leads me away, only millimeters of space between us, and we end up in a circle of guys who look super familiar, but I can’t place them.
The big one with a black leather vest that doesn’t cover his stretched stomach raises his water in greeting. “Kelly!”
“Hey, Slim,” Liam says. “I had no idea you guys were doing this one.”
Slim eyes me up and down with a slow creeping grin. “This your girl?”
“Me? Oh—”
“Yeah.” Liam places his arm around my waist, pulling me into his side.
I draw back and look for some silent non-verbal reason why he’s lying. But with the way Slim’s vision has zeroed in on my chest, I think I’ll go with it.
“Didn’t know you’d put the handcuffs on,” another guy to my right says. He isn’t as scary as Slim. At least he smiles at me and looks me in the eye.
“News to me too.” A brunette two people over from Slim, standing next to another brunette, examines me as though I’m less than nothing.
Liam’s hand grows tighter on my hip. “Nina.” Her name comes off his tongue like vinegar.
She’s wearing a leather vest, but it’s shorter than Slim’s. All she has underneath is a halter top that barely contains her boobs and shows off her flat stomach. I glance down at my jeans and plain white T-shirt. I was going to wear a black T-shirt, but Liam said that it would be too hot. Now I just feel out of place.
“Liam,” Nina seethes.
My gaze shifts between them. I’m uncomfortable with whatever subtext is going on that I’m unaware of. I realize in this moment that Liam has or had a whole other set of friends I knew nothing about.
“I told Kathy we’d find her before the ride starts. I’m sure we’ll see you at a stop or something.” Without waiting for a goodbye, Liam walks us away.
“Who is Kathy?”
“An old friend,” he mumbles, his hand still not leaving my hip.
“An old friend like Nina?” I snipe.
He stops me by the end of a table where they’re serving fresh fruit, pastry items, and drinks. Turning me so my back is to the table and he’s in front of me, his hands land on my hips. “Nina was a long time ago, so you don’t have to worry about her. I lied because Slim likes the new girls. He wouldn’t have left you alone the entire ride even if Nina’s riding on the back of his bike. This way he knows you belong to me, and he’s not one to try to take what isn’t his.”
I lean back to look in his eyes, and there’s sincerity there. “I wouldn’t have allowed him to take me anyway.”
He shakes his head. “I know that, but it doesn’t mean he wouldn’t try. Is it so horrible to act like my girlfriend all day?”
No. Not at all.
Shit.
Yes, it is.
“All those people, aren’t they your friends?” I ask.
“Not much anymore. I run into them sometimes at a bar or something, but I cut ties years ago.”
“Why?”
His hand slides into mine. “I’ll tell you later. Come on. We only have about fifteen minutes before everyone has to ride.”
I allow him a pass on telling me about his relationship with Slim and his groupies, and we weave through the crowd. He nods hello to various people who refer to him solely by his last name. I feel as though I’m in a different world. Denver and Rome never mentioned anything about this part of Liam’s life. Then again, why would they? I never showed interest.
After what feels like a mile, he stops me in front of a woman with dyed red hair and nails so long, she could literally scratch out someone’s eyes.
“Kathy,” Liam says.
She turns from her conversation with a man and smiles brightly. “Liam.” She’s the first person other than Nina to use his first name.
He hugs her and picks her up off her feet. Over his shoulder, she zeroes in on me. A smile indents dimples into her cheeks until he sets her back down.
“Who do we have here?”
Liam doesn’t take my hand or put his arm around me this time. “This is Savannah.”
“Hi, Savannah.” She puts out her hand, and I shake her boney hand with rings on almost every finger. “I’m Ka
thy.”
“Hello.”
“And are you guys…?” She wags her finger between us.
“No.” Liam does something behind me that makes Kathy laugh, but when I turn around, he pretends to just be standing there.
“What did he do?” I ask.
“Mother-son confidentiality.” Kathy beams at Liam like she loves him like a son. “Slim and his roadies are here.”
I feel the tension wafting off Liam. “We saw. As far as he’s concerned—”
“She’s yours?”
My head volleys between them as they finish each other’s sentences.
“Nina?” she asks.
“Green with envy.”
“I figured.”
Liam doesn’t once look at me during the conversation. Kathy turns around, and that’s when I see the patch stitched onto the back of her black leather jacket. Chicks Brigade. I point, and Liam, finally paying me attention, laughs.
He bends down to my ear as Kathy answers a question someone else asked her. “She runs the Chicks Brigade. If you want a membership, I can get you in.”
I look around and see mostly all women in this area, next to bikes that have some sort of girly flair to them.
Just then, someone gets on the microphone and tells the crowd to line up.
Liam leans over and kisses Kathy’s cheek. “We’ll see you after.”
“Nice to meet you,” I say, putting out my hand.
“You as well. Watch out for that one. He heals hearts, doesn’t break ‘em.” She points at Liam.
But he snags my hand and says goodbye to Kathy before weaving us back through the mass of black leather. When we reach his bike, he puts the helmet back on my head, secures it, then puts on his own.
“I thought bikers always wanted to feel the cool air breeze through their hair?”
