by Echo Slater
Smiling, I admit I’ve already thought a lot about what life with Mad Dog would be like. I just can’t picture it. I don’t even know how he spends ninety-nine percent of his time.
“I could skip practice tomorrow,” I offer as the world goes sideways with possibilities. “We could hang out somewhere, but I wouldn’t want it to be a dive near the school. I’ve never gotten to spend time with you without an audience.”
Mad Dog glances back at the window where Hagan hardcore stares out. She smiles and waves when she notices us noticing her. My parents are likely a foot away, having a heated conversation about how to handle this situation.
“I’ll take you out to the highway, away from prying eyes.”
“That sounds skeevy. If my parents ask, a private place near the highway seems dicey. I might as well tell them I’m hanging out in a van by the river.”
“It’s a Bob Evans,” Mad Dog says with utter seriousness.
Laughing, I pat his powerful chest and allow my fingers to linger on his black T-shirt. “I think that would be fine. My grandparents were Bob Evans fanatics before Granddad died and Grandma got locked up in the old-timers' prison.”
When Mad Dog’s divine grin returns, I really don’t want him to leave. If my parents weren’t stewing in their worried juices, I’d hang out with Mad Dog for the rest of the day. I don’t know what we might have in common. Probably nothing besides our desire to get naked. Still, I’m open to embracing new stuff if it means getting closer to Mad Dog.
His lips find mine only once before he leaves. Even with an audience, I can’t hide my appreciation for his hot kiss. After we separate, I cross my arms to hide my hard nipples. My original shirt would have concealed my mountain peaks better.
“You have my number,” I mumble, walking him to the Harley parked behind my Terrain. “If you miss me, call. Don’t waste time asking for nudes. I’m not ending up on the internet when we break up.”
“Baby,” he says, cupping my jaw. “I’m never letting you go. And if you freed yourself from my grip, I still wouldn’t want anyone else seeing you naked.”
His possessive tone sends a shiver through me. I don’t know how he can speak with such certainty. Sure, I’m swooning hard for this sexy biker, but I’ve never had any decent dating options. The guys at school are garbage. But Mad Dog has likely dated plenty of good women. Why would he be so into me? Is it just my cherry he wants?
No, probably not. All this effort isn’t necessary to get in my pants. I was willing to hook up next weekend whether he brought flowers to my mom or talked about never sharing me. Mad Dog clearly has something on his mind beyond what I can understand.
Once he rides away, I’m dying to share with Hagan everything he said. But my parents require attention first.
“That was unexpected,” Phil says when I enter the house.
“He missed me.”
“Aw,” Hagan says from her spot on the floor with Bane. “And he spent money on Arlene.”
My mom looks at the bouquet hanging from her hand. “Why?”
“He’s old school.”
“Umm, he’s old something,” Arlene mutters.
“Grandma married a man fifty years her senior.”
Mom forgets to be horrified by the dirty bastard long enough to balk at my math. “That would have made him seventy when they got married.”
“Love doesn’t care about age,” I say, waving my hands around. “Magic and fate and other romantic stuff.”
“Where are you going on Wednesday?” Phil asks in an attempt to sound reasonable.
“I don’t know. Mad Dog asked to see me tomorrow. We’re going to Bob Evans for dinner.”
“But you have cheerleading practice,” Mom points out.
“All the games are over. Last week, we just sat around while Emily whined about her boy problems. I won’t be missing anything.”
“What’s wrong with dating boys your age?” Arlene asks and finally sets down the flowers.
“They’re trash.”
Hagan nods. “Stone-cold garbage, Arlene.”
“They only want to have sex with me, so they can brag to their friends. That’s how immature they are. It’s not even about getting laid. It’s all about impressing their garbage friends.”
“Very true,” Hagan adds. “And they often try to take pictures of you while you’re doing it.” When my parents frown at Hagan in unison, she shrugs. “Or so I’ve heard. That’s what Emily was whining about. High school guys are awful. Phil knows. I bet you were around a lot of garbage guys back in school.”
“Yes, well, that’s true, but still.”
“Mad Dog is sexy,” I say, and my parents shake their heads in unison. “He’s sweet, too. He also has money to pay for stuff. These are important qualities in a date.”
“He’s my age,” Phil says in a shaky voice.
“Is he, though?”
“Yes,” Arlene says. “You wouldn’t date your father, now, would you?”
“If he looked like Mad Dog, I would,” I say, and Hagan nods. “But he’s more than hot. Mad Dog treats me with respect.”
Yes, yes, I’ve relegated the blowjob conversation at The Cherry into my memory hole.
“I just don’t know what to do about this,” Phil says, putting his hands on his hips and looking to Arlene for assistance. “He seemed polite, but he’s one of those biker Dicks.”
“Sir, if I might,” Hagan says, doing her overly respectful routine my parents never fall for. “I supervised Mad Dog and Cameo at the Ranch. On account of my family’s love of liquor, I had been drinking. Cameo remained sober and responsible. Nice parenting skills there, by the way.”
My parents grin at her bullshit as she continues, “Mad Dog never pushed Cameo or treated her in a way that I would be against. And you know I’m bitchy and against a lot of stuff. I pretended to be passed out, too, just to spy on them. But he remained a gentleman. Far better than Trevor at school with his list of popped cherries.”
“Good Lord,” Arlene says, sighing. “Boys are awful.”
“We really are,” Phil agrees before focusing hard on me. “I still don’t know if we should be okay with Mad Dog. You’re eighteen, and we respect your choices. However, we won’t stand by if we think you’re making a mistake. It’s our job to speak up.”
“I have a suggestion,” Hagan says, and my parents instantly assume she’s up to her old tricks. “I could chaperone her date. If he starts breaking bad, I’ll rat out Cameo to you.”
Bumping her with my hip, I mumble, “You just want a free meal at Bob Evans.”
“The turkey and stuffing are good.”
“Okay, but you can’t sit at the table with us.”
“Eating alone will be good practice for when I’m a spinster.”
Arlene and Phil share a concerned look, indicating they need more time to work out the situation. Mad Dog threw their entire day into disarray.
“I’m sorry he startled you by showing up unannounced,” I say and hug Arlene and then Phil. “Mad Dog meant well, but a guy like that doesn’t understand how wonderfully dull our Sundays are.”
“They are wonderful,” Phil mutters, fighting a grin. “Mom and I will talk things out and let you know our thoughts later.”
While my parents plot, I hurry upstairs with Hagan to give her a play-by-play of my time with Mad Dog. She listens silently before agreeing I should have gone with the original shirt.
“I did you wrong,” she says and then shows me a picture she snapped off Mad Dog and me outside. “But you did look sexy with your dirty bastard.”
Smiling at the photo, I feel myself losing control of the situation with Mad Dog. I want him too much. Or possibly, it’s the normal amount. I’ve just never been down this road before. Mad Dog’s interest both empowers and deflates me. I feel sexy and strong yet also in over my head.
What I am sure about is how I can’t wait to see him again.
MAD DOG—IN THE AIR TONIGHT
On the ba
sketball court at the Ranch, I struggle to sink a ball. My mind races with thoughts of Cameo. What if she’s the one? Like how Raqui is for Grizz. A girl who hits all the right notes. If Cameo and I click permanently, can she enjoy a life out here on the Ranch?
“Pay attention,” Stoney growls when I miss another shot. “They’re killing us.”
Horse and Cash strut around like bitches, loving how my lack of concentration is handing them an easy win. Usually, I dunk the fuck out of these idiots. But hardcore lust has turned my brain smooth and useless.
“Ever think you’ll hook up like Grizz?” I ask while moving past Horse and going for the basket.
“No,” says the big-dicked asshole before nearly knocking the ball out of my hands. “My life’s too good to sully it up with a woman, especially since she’ll want kids. I don’t need that hassle.”
“Eventually, I will,” Cash explains after I miss my shot, and Stoney pitches a fit about my shitty skills. “Get me a sweet little miss and pump a few cute critters into her. When the babies cry, I’ll walk them past Horse’s house to ruin his good mood.”
Running a hand through his light brown hair, Horse sneers. “I’m not against spraying your critters with the hose.”
Cash shoves Horse. “Don’t you threaten my imaginary children. Baby Cash isn’t to blame for your sad, pathetic life fucking hot women and sleeping late.”
The men keep pushing each other while Stoney takes the ball from me and looks ready to pound my face with it.
“You need to settle down with this love shit. You don’t know her. She sure as fucking shit doesn’t know you. Hell, you two were making out on the porch. Bitch never even got inside your house.”
I slap him across the face. “Don’t diss my maybe future old lady by calling her a bitch.”
“Can’t threaten imaginary babies,” Horse mutters and takes the ball from Stoney. “Can’t insult maybe old ladies. What can we do anymore?”
“Finish the game,” Cash announces. “Now, you two are ten points from losing. I, for one, can’t wait to see your faces when you’re defeated.”
Five minutes later, he pounds his sweaty chest while Horse shakes his double middle fingers at Stoney and me.
“I’m happy for you,” I tell them. “You never win, which must be a severe drain on your egos. Today is a special day. Enjoy it. That way, you’ll cry less when I crush you next time.”
“Yeah, but you’re assuming this ball-less condition of yours won’t continue,” Horse says, wiping his face with his shirt before sliding it on. “Yet, it’s been years since Grizz owned full-time access to his nads.”
“He doesn’t need them,” Ginette says, walking over and frowning at her boy. “Stop frowning. You’re giving me wrinkles.”
Grinning now, Stoney hugs his ma tightly to ensure she enjoys his sweaty male musk.
“Holy hell, boy, quadruple-up on the Axe, will ya?”
Stoney’s smile grows. “I refuse to worry about hygiene when I’m around these shit-heels.”
“That’s my boy,” she says and then smiles at me. “Don’t let this girl run roughshod over you, Mad Dog. Grizz can get away with being whipped since he was a royal bastard to start with. You aren’t known for your temper except in a fight. If you get any softer, not even I’ll fear you.”
“My size scares most men, and making women piss their panties isn’t on my to-do list.”
Ginette grunts at my assurance. “Weak men get replaced by stronger ones.”
“No one’s taking Mad Dog’s place,” Stoney says in his gravelly voice. “Where we gonna find another ape as pretty as him?”
Winking at him, I move closer. “My armpit wishes to get more acquainted with your delicate face.”
“If you boys were more focused on hygiene,” Ginette says, wearing her disapproving-mom frown, “you wouldn’t fear each other’s armpits so much.”
“I smell right as rain,” Cash says, flashing a smile capable of inspiring many panties to drop.
Ginette grins for him, losing her angsty edge. Stoney’s mom has always suffered from anxiety issues. Maybe her strawberry blonde hair makes her a borderline ginger. Whatever the reason, Ginette’s moods range from blissful nudist enthusiast to paranoid wildebeest. Today, she falls somewhere in between.
I suspect she worries about more change coming to the Ranch. Ginette struggled when the club split apart. She was a mother hen to those men, so their leaving cut her deep. Though Ginette’s moodiness got worse after the split, having Cross around has perked her up plenty.
Maybe that’s why she’s so focused on our pit stink. If we don’t clean up nice, we won’t win the hearts of young women willing to cook up babies for the Ranch’s growing family.
A week ago, I would have thought Ginette’s hopes were misguided. Now, I’m wondering if I might have a little baby in my future. What the hell would that be like?
I don’t mention my question to my club brothers or Ginette. She’s more interested in finding help for her pot of chili. Uninterested in cooking, the guys want to take a ride.
My mind wanders on the road. Cameo owns my thoughts. But I feel myself moving too fast with her. This shit isn’t a race.
But I’m afraid to slow down. Cameo is a prize I need to possess. I’ll never forgive myself if I miss out. Slow and steady is the sane, safe man's play. I’ve never been that guy. It’s why I live on the Ranch and ride with the Wet Dicks. A different life would have never led to Cameo.
Tonight in my cozy bungalow, I try to imagine her relaxing next to me. Can she cook? Would she like my furniture? Chicks care about kitchens. Is mine nice enough for her?
I’m still wondering about that shit when I show up at Bob Evans the next afternoon. Cameo texted earlier to warn she might have to bring Hagan as a chaperone. But she also assured me her friend would sit at another table. I sensed Cameo worried I would pitch a fit.
I’m just relieved to find her waiting for me in the parking lot. She’s staring at her phone, swinging her hips absentmindedly as I approach. Cameo looks up and smiles at the sight of me. That’s the kind of magical shit I could get used to.
Her lips wait for mine, and I’m on them greedily. We gain attention from an old couple, muttering about us needing to get a room. Normally, I’d comment about his flaccid sausage or her dried-up beaver. However, I keep my mouth politely closed for Cameo’s sake.
“Right, like those two don’t fuck constantly out of mere boredom,” she says loudly, but I don’t think they hear.
“You’re rude,” I say, wrapping my arm around her shoulders as we enter. “I like that.”
“My parents don’t, and they’re right over there.”
I frown at the table where Paul, Arlene, and Hagan are seated. Cameo waits for me to comment on her parents’ choice to chaperone. I’m admittedly annoyed at the thought of never getting alone time with Cameo.
But like with the judgmental old farts, I keep my mouth shut and focus on the goal—winning over the girl already imprinted on my heart.
CAMEO—YOU’RE THE BEST THING
Mad Dog’s windblown hair desperately needs my fingers to fix it. Okay, so maybe I’m just looking for reasons to touch him. In fact, I nearly crawl into his arms when he kisses me. Mad Dog clearly can’t dial down his irresistible vibe. I’m addicted already.
Of course, my parents’ choice to supervise my date might throw cold water on our hot time. Though Mad Dog doesn’t freak out at their presence, he gives off a grumpy energy after noticing them.
I choose a booth in their eye line but far enough away to avoid them hearing our conversation.
“My mom’s mood flipped sideways last night,” I explain, focusing super hard on the menu as if I haven’t seen it fifty times. “She started crying about how tall you are.”
“All the men in my family are tall. You should keep that in mind for potential kids.”
Still avoiding his gaze, I mumble, “Uh, I never want children.”
I’m full of stink
ing shit. My future won’t involve traveling the world and being super independent. Long ago, I accepted I’d marry a middle manager type and give him two children. My future consists of being a housewife who drinks wine during the kids’ naptime and worries about her expanding ass. I just hope Hagan marries a similarly dorky man, so we can whine about our lackluster sex lives together.
Unconvinced by my lies, Mad Dog instantly says, “You’ll want my kids.”
“Okay, but I’m average height. Average always defeats superior. That means our kids would be super normal and lame. I gotta feeling about it.”
“What else was your mom worried about?” he asks as his dark eyes flash to their table.
“You’re very strong, like muscular.”
“I do work out a lot.”
Admiring his body, I strip him naked in my mind before continuing, “And you ride a motorcycle and—” I lower my voice dramatically before adding, “You do criminal stuff.”
“Those are also true.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“What did you tell her?”
“That you’re sweet and remind me of my dad.”
Mad Dog instantly frowns, which offends me a little. My dad might be scrawny, and his hair’s thinning, but Phil’s got a great smile and nice skin. Not everyone can be blessed with Mad Dog’s natural good looks.
“Do I really make you think of him?”
“No, but she was crying,” I say, glancing at her. “Mom needs reassurance. She knows my father is a good man. I wanted her to think the same about you.”
“But you don’t think I am.”
“I’m not sure,” I say, feeling defensive about his irritation over being compared to the best man I know. “That’s why we’re on a date. This is an interview. I’ll be asking lots of penetrating questions like, ‘What’s one thing you’d like to change about yourself?’ and ‘Where do you see yourself in five years?’ I’ll also rate you on presentation.”
“Will there be a swimsuit round?” he asks, and I instantly remember picturing him in a Speedo at the townie party. “If so, I’m nailing that shit.”
