by Cathryn Cade
Manda had no idea what to say to that. Meet his mother?? Chat on the phone with her? Eeek.
She couldn’t even handle her own mother, much less the woman who had raised this man. She pictured a big, raw-boned woman with a booming voice and wild auburn hair coming at her, arms open to squeeze the life out of Manda if she treated her son badly. Shuddering, she drank her coffee.
Luckily, T-Bear was hungry, so he applied himself to his breakfast, not waiting for an answer. When he was done, he shoved his chair back and picked up his plate.
"Thanks for breakfast. I'm gonna shower. You wanna go for a ride on my bike later? We can ride out for a while, enjoy the day, and then find some place to have us a meal and some beers. End up back here for dessert." The mischievous note in his voice left no doubt what he meant by dessert.
Her own gaze focused on her coffee, Manda gritted her teeth.
Gah, he was being so damn nice.
Yes, she wanted to go for a ride on his bike. It was a bright sunny day outside, the breeze chasing little puffy clouds across the blue expanse of sky. And on his bike, she'd get to sit close behind him and hold on to his powerful body, revel in the wind blowing past them while he controlled his big, powerful motorcycle and shot them along the springtime road in carefree joy.
Contrarily, her own longing irritated the heck out of her. She didn't want him to be nice, she wanted him to be an asshole, so she could do what she needed to do and not feel like one herself.
Because no matter what, she had to do it.
She had to make him understand this thing between them was just temporary. It would end up being that way anyway—nothing this much fun was going to last.
Once the initial sexy glow wore off, his eye would be caught by another long-legged, big-boobed, botox-lipped stripper, like the one from last night.
And she, Manda, would be left standing devastated and alone, in his rear-view mirror as he peeled rubber away from her, fast as he could go.
And she'd be goddamned if she'd go through being abandoned by a man One. More. Time.
Nope to the nopity nope. This time... this time it would be her doing the leaving. Or at least the reminding that all they had between them was sex. Good sex, fantastic, toe-curling sex—but still just sex.
She lifted her gaze to meet his. "No, thanks," she made herself say through stiff lips. "I have to look for a job."
She knew she was ready, appearance-wise, because the evening before Sara, Lesa and Billie had assured her she looked fabulous, that the bruises were completely disguised by her makeup. The mirror had told her the same.
This morning, she hadn’t yet looked in one. Just as well, as she’d probably see bedhead, smudged mascara and bloodshot eyes.
His brows went up, his eyes twinkling the way she lo—liked so much. Like he knew a great joke, but was willing to share with her. "Babe. It's Sunday. Nobody's lookin' or hirin' today."
Manda's face flushed hotter than the coffee in her cup. "Oh, right," she mumbled. "Guess I'm free, then."
T-Bear chuckled. "Guess you are. And tomorrow, you wanna borrow my truck to go interview, just speak up."
Okay, there was no way she could hang onto her ornery after that, right? Right. She gave it up, although at the same time feeling the sting of tears behind her eyes. "Thank you. That's really nice."
He held up a hand the size of their breakfast plates. "Babe. You call me nice again, not gonna be happy. Bikers are mean, badass daddies who roll how we roll, and do what we want and only what we want. The last thing we are is nice."
Manda stared at him, because seriously? She was pretty sure his picture was right after the word in the online dictionaries.
"Right then. Glad we got that cleared up." He pushed his chair back, rocking the table and their empty plates so the cutlery clattered.
Then he spoiled the effect by pausing to give her a wink before walking out of the room.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
* * *
Setting her coffee mug down, Manda buried her face in her hands, the tears winning this time and leaking from her tightly shut eyes. What was she gonna do? He was just so freaking sweet.
She took her coffee into her borrowed room. Showered, dressed in jeans, her cute ankle boots and the dark red top, with her hair fixed and light makeup on, she ventured outside with her phone.
In back of the club was a large paved area with barbecues standing to one side, and a number of patio tables and chairs grouped around a bricked-in fire pit. The sun was shining, and although a breeze flirted through the branches of a line of scrubby evergreens off the west side of the area, it was warm close to the building.
She sat down with her phone, intending to read for a bit to calm her mind—and to escape her own turmoil for a while into the travails of a fictional heroine. Maybe not what she needed to be doing right now, but the temptation was strong. But as her finger wavered over the reading app on her phone, it burbled Chloe's ringtone .
The instant Manda said hello, Chloe started talking. "Hey, girlfriend. How are you? And where are you? Did you find a job yet, and an apartment? And is that biker still after you?"
Manda took a shaky breath. "That's a lot of questions, Chlo-rina. I'm okay, I'm still at the Flyers' club house... and what was the rest of that?"
"You're still there?" Chloe sounded disappointed. "How's the job hunt going?"
"Just getting started," Manda confessed. "I have a list, and tomorrow I'm on it." Because my black eye and fat lip are finally almost gone, she did not add.
"Okay, great. How about the biker? Did you lay it out with him yet? Let him know you're on the rebound, and you need some space?"
"No, but I will," Manda promised. "Now enough about me. How did your big test go?"
"Good, I think. Test scores won't be posted until Tuesday. But I'm thinking of changing my major."
It was Manda's turn to scold. "What? You're so close to getting your degree in education, and being able to teach. Why would you want to change now?"
"Well," her friend said slowly. "I still want to work in the schools. But I've been thinking, maybe I'd rather be a counselor. Work with the kids that need emotional support, you know?"
"You'd be a great counselor," Manda had to admit. "God knows you've spent enough time counseling me. And your other friends."
"I know, right? It's what feels good for me. Which brings me to the final point I want to make with you, sweetie. If this T-Bear guy really likes you, he'll be willing to back off, and take it slow for you. If not, then..."
"Then all he wants is sex, I know," Manda said, rubbing her eyes, which just kept wanting to fill with tears. Gah, she wanted to scream, throw things and then go eat chocolate. "My dear mother just called and told me the same thing.” Only in much harsher terms.
She sighed heavily. “I'll talk to him. Now I have to go, okay?"
"Okay," Chloe said, her voice subdued. "Love you. Talk soon?"
"Love you too. Soon."
Manda ended the call and stared bleakly at the greening fields stretched out behind the clubhouse in the spring sunshine. A cloud slid over the sun, darkening the scene and robbing the patio of warmth.
It was now unanimous. Both her mom and her best friend thought she was a loser who latched onto one man after another, and needed to back off and get a spine. Okay, Chloe didn’t think she was a loser, just moving too fast as usual.
And they were no doubt both right, in their own ways. Her mom, because Manda did need to be able to support herself, no matter who she was involved with. And Chloe, because things had happened at break-neck speed between her and T-Bear. She'd known him less than two weeks. That was way too fast to wrap her life around him.
But that didn't mean she didn't want to wrap her arms—and maybe her legs—around him for one more day.
Thus, when he found her and invited her to go for a ride, she said yes.
Partly, it must be said, because of the way he looked in his riding gear. Holy hotness, he looked good. H
is unruly curls were tied back in a man bun, a black bandana over the top of his head and knotted behind. He wore his cut over a black knit thermal, a tee underneath, work pants, leather chaps and boots. He had sporty sunglasses on his head.
He immediately produced a leather jacket he'd borrowed for her from Billie, and a helmet borrowed from Sarah, who never rode without one. He grinned and told her that in her jeans, leather jacket and helmet she was a regular biker mama. Manda rolled her eyes at this, but she did it laughing.
"Ever been on a biker before?" T asked her as they walked out to where he'd parked his bike before the clubhouse.
Manda blinked, and he chuckled. "Gotcha. Yeah, you have—me. But, have you ever been on a bike?"
"You goof," she said. "No... unless you count riding a dirt-bike in high school."
He shook his head. "Nope. Too long ago, and a lot less power. So, the thing you gotta do is hang on, and lean with the bike. The rest'll be easy."
"Okay. I can do that." She could do a lot of things, if they meant she got to ride on the back of his amazing machine.
T-Bear's motorcycle was built on a scale like him—bigger than the average bear. With wide tires, gleaming chrome pipes and bars, gleaming black body, and black leather seats, it looked powerful even before he started up the motor. When that happened, a thrill raced through her.
That thrill intensified when she carefully climbed on behind him, stepping where he told her to step, and keeping away from the tailpipes which he informed her could leave ugly burns on her legs.
Whoa! The motor vibrated through her feet, legs and all the parts of her in contact with the leather seat. Wrapped in a package with T-Bear's scent—man, soap and leather... it was like being astride a giant vibrator.
Which was going to be her dirty little secret... unless she got tipsy. Under the influence, she had a tendency to admit things she shouldn't. Especially with the Flyers' old ladies. They were funny and sweet and so easy to talk to, she'd end up telling them way more than she should.
Right. She needed to swear off all alcohol for the next twenty years or so.
And men. But for today, she was going to indulge herself in this one.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
* * *
T-Bear was having the best ride he'd had in a long, long time, even counting riding out across country with his brother, wild and free.
With Manda snug behind him, her sweet thighs outlining his and her soft center snug against his ass, her arms around his waist and her torso pressed against his back… no contest, this ride beat every other.
He'd been waiting to find that certain woman he wanted on the back of his bike, the way Pete, Rocker and even Stick had found. And now he had her, with him for the first of many rides. And after, he'd get him some hot, honey-sweet lovin' and have her to talk to and laugh with.
Yep, this was livin'.
The big motorcycle rumbling under them, his hands on the familiar handlebars, the wind in their faces, they rode out west from town, then headed north on one of the county highways, rolling through small farms and fancy country places. Past stands of evergreens, the cattail-rimmed ponds and giant rocks left by ancient floods. Through the warm, spring sunshine and scudding clouds, reaching the edge of the Spokane River and a small-town burger joint there just ahead of a spring shower.
He parked the bike under the overhang in front of the place, and steadied the bike while Manda hopped off.
"Well, whaddya think?" he asked, scanning her face eagerly as she pulled her helmet off and shook back her hair.
Her eyes were shining, and her smile glowed in the damp gloom. "I love it," she told him. "I wish we could just keep going and going."
"Right on," he approved, satisfaction a warm glow in his chest. "Knew you'd love it. This place okay for a meal, or you wanna go somewhere fancier? 'Cause we can do that."
She looked at the place and back at him. "This is perfect. I don't need fancy."
"That's good, 'cause neither do I, unless that means a place like the Roadhouse. That's 'bout as fancy as I get."
She nodded, the twinkle in her brown eyes saying she already had that figured out and didn't mind.
They went into the place, a funky, old-fashioned joint with pictures of everyone from Ronnie Reagan to Patsy Cline on the walls, cracked red cushions on the booths and red-checkered curtains in the windows. Choosing a booth where they could look out over the river, they ordered burgers and all the fixings, a beer for him and a Coke for her.
The burgers and fries were served sizzling hot, the beer was cold and the woman across the table from him was the prettiest thing he'd ever seen. Not beautiful, or spectacular, but just plain pretty and sweet.
Perfect, just like this day.
Until it all went to hell... and he didn't see it coming, even with his eyes wide open.
They'd made it back to the clubhouse, and he had her under him in his big bed.
Both of them were breathing hard, he was damp with sweat, with his happy cock buried balls-deep in her, and his whole body rumbling with satisfaction from the big O he'd just had, and given her.
She was hanging onto him with her heels still riding his bare ass, her arms up around him over his ribs, and her face was flushed and rosy, her eyes heavy, a little smile playing on her lips.
The same smile that was on his face, he was sure. Fuck, they were good together.
And then he went and opened his big mouth and ruined it—only he wouldn't know that until after he spoke.
"You and me should get us a place together," he said, using his thumb to swipe away a drop of his sweat that landed on her throat. "Then we could have this all the time."
She blinked up at him, a strange look in her eyes. "What?"
He lifted up onto his elbows, 'cause he tried to be considerate about not crushing her, and grinned. "Yeah, it's a great idea. There's places to rent here in town. Close in, where we could even walk to work if we want. You can get that job at the Bean, and me at JJ's, it'll be great."
That strange look deepened in her eyes, and she let go of him with her legs, and then her arms.
His gut sinking, he lifted up and let her push him off of her, dropping onto one hip and an elbow in the bed. He made sure to keep hold of himself, 'cause letting the love glove loose in bed was rude.
"What?" he asked, disappointed. "You don't think so?"
She sat up, and shoved back her hair with both hands, then slid off the bed, away from him. He admired her ass, 'cause he might be worried but he wasn't dead, until she grabbed a random tee and pulled it on over her head. Being his, the faded blue Hangar tee fell halfway to her knees, and the sleeves draped to her elbows. She looked cute as fuck in it.
But then she turned to face him. He sat up, eying her with growing alarm. Something was brewing behind those big brown eyes, and it wasn't looking to be good, not for him.
"T," she said, pausing to bite her plump lower lip. "We've only known each other a week."
"Ten days," he corrected. "Countin' today, which I sure as hell am, 'cause it was awesome. Anyways, what's that got to do with anything?"
She crossed her arms over her middle and frowned at him. "A lot. We've only known each other ten days. That means we hardly know each other, not really. We can't be moving in together."
With that, the last traces of his happy disappeared. He slid off the bed and faced her across it. "Huh? So it's only been ten days. A fuckuva lot's happened in that time. I'd say we know things about each other most folks don't learn in months—maybe longer'n that."
She took a step back, and his face heated, realizing he'd kinda been hollering that last. "Sorry," he said in a lower voice. "But c'mon, babe. I know it's fast, but you and me—we got something good, the best I've ever had. Let's don't toss that away just 'cause you're nervous."
Her face flushed as well. "I have a right to be nervous," she snapped back. "The last guy I was with dumped me, and his buddy tried to use me as a whore."
He rocked bac
k, feeling like she'd punched him in the gut. "And you think I'm gonna dump you, or use you?"
"No!" Her face crumpled, and she straightened up with a visible effort. "Of course not. I mean, not the using part. But I don’t—I don’t know you, T. And you don’t really know me.”
“Now that ain’t true,” he said stubbornly. “I know you’re funny, and we laugh at the same stuff. I know you got a learning disability, like me. That means you’re tough, ‘cause you have to try harder for everything, like me. I know you like a good party, and don’t need fancy shit, like me. I know you been through some tough times, but you come up fightin’ and don’t give up, also like me. I know you’re nice to everyone you meet, and you believe in people, even though you been hurt. An I know I can talk to you about pretty much anything, I don’t even care what. I also know you’re the sexiest woman I ever had in my bed, an’ I wanna keep you there and on the back of my bike.”
She gazed at him, her brown eyes big and full of shadows. “Well… how can either of us know how long it would last?"
"Well, I don’t know that now. But that ain't no reason to not even try," he told her. "I get you just went through a rough time. But who was there to pull you through? Me, that's who. And I wanna keep on being with you. We don't try, we'll never know if it'll work."
Her mouth trembled, but she shook her head. "T-Bear, it's—we have good sex... great sex. And good times. But... can't we just be friends for a while, like we agreed? Hang out, and have, um, awesome—"
He held up a hand, 'cause if he had to listen to much more of that, his head was gonna explode. "Lemme get this straight. You just wanna keep on bein’ my fuck buddy?"
She shrugged, pouting. "Sure, if you want to call it that."
No, he did not, but it didn't seem to be up to him. So to hell with it. He’d opened his guts to her, and she didn’t want to hear it. Anger rose, and got control of his mouth.
