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Daddy Biker: MC Romance

Page 46

by Sadie Savage


  Smiling, impressed, Vicky nodded. “You have a good ear.”

  Amos laughed. “The N’awlans accent is just thick,” he said, making sure to add a bit of the twang to his speech for effect. “So where are you from? If I had to guess, I’d say… Boston?”

  She grinned at him. “Just outside,” she replied. “Very good. It’s kind of scary how perceptive you are.”

  Although Vicky was dazzled by this guy, she was starting to worry that he might try and become a distraction for her. The last thing she really needed was a distraction from her schoolwork…

  “Are your parents still in Boston?” he asked curiously. “Do you go back there regularly?”

  At that she had to shake her head. “No, actually. My parents died when I was a baby. I was in foster care, all of my childhood. But I don’t exactly consider that family.”

  Now she definitely wanted to pull away.

  “Are you off tomorrow?” Amos Steele asked her then. “Could I see you again?”

  Vicky shook her head. “No, I can’t. I have class.”

  “What class?”

  This guy did not know when to stop. She found him attractive and interesting, although his interrogation was scaring her a little now. “I’m sorry; I’ve got to get back to work. I’ll see you around, Amos.”

  She gave him another small smile as a parting gift, and then went to go check on one of her tables. They did not really need anything, but she needed them as an excuse to get away. The handsome biker intrigued her, and she would not have minded seeing him again, but his questions had started to feel intense. Vicky felt like she was going crazy from the heat and the stress of the day. She could have sworn Amos Steele’s eyes had briefly glowed gold while he talked to her…

  As soon as she was off work that night, Vicky carefully walked the short walk from the bar to her apartment building. She had lucked out in getting a place that was so conveniently close to her work, but that convenience came with a rent that could not continue to be paid by tips alone.

  It’s temporary, she reminded herself. It’s all just temporary.

  Once she was safely inside her place, she took off her shorts and the neon shirt, and replaced them with a long, loose t-shirt that served as a pajama top. Vicky let her hair down and gave it a good brushing before brushing her teeth. It was twenty minutes til midnight, and she had class the following morning. At least it was not until eleven a.m., but waking up was hard to do when work made her a night owl.

  Settling into bed, Vicky wondered if she was going to have those weird dreams about bears. She’d been having recurring bear dreams for as long as she could remember. Sometimes, they were just dreams. Other times, they were nightmares. She did not know why these dreams happened to her. She’d never seen an actual bear in her life. Then again, she did not have memories of when she was very small. Perhaps she had been taken to see bears at the zoo once when she was tiny.

  That was the only explanation she could think of.

  Sure enough, as she finally drifted off to sleep, she had visions of walking through a forest of spindly trees, and stepping into a circle of bears that seemed to bow to her. Their eyes had a golden glow, and when she looked into them her body was illuminated with warmth.

  When her alarm went off at nine thirty the next morning, Vicky did not feel like getting up. To be fair, she never did. She once had an ex-boyfriend who always teased her about how excessive she was with sleep. That could not happen anymore though. She threw off her sheets and stumbled, shivering, into the bathroom to wash her face.

  With a shower and some cereal in her, she was ready to go to her art class at the New Orleans Academy of Fine Art. That class was the reason for her move there from Boston. She’d received a scholarship and couldn’t pass up the chance. Art continued to make her life better, and help erase the emptiness of her past.

  She took a taxi to the building, and arrived in class ten minutes early. Vicky was not really a stickler for being on time or early, except when it came to this class. She placed her bag on her desk, carefully pulling out her sketchbook and pencils in order to give her project one last check before it had to be turned in.

  Right as the professor came in and was setting up to begin, a newcomer arrived in the classroom. He was tall and attractive, with an angular face, light blond hair, and piercing blue eyes. He wore a dark blue hoodie and jeans. Noticing that the chair beside Vicky was empty, he came over and sat down beside her.

  “Hey,” he said under his breath. “What’s up?”

  Vicky smiled. She was still getting over the hot guy from last night and now this dreamboat was giving her attention. Were the planets aligned? Was this a sign that something bad was going to happen to her soon?

  She was not what one would call an optimistic person. Life had been shitting on her so long that she thought any bit of something good was going to immediately be followed by something insurmountably terrible.

  Please don’t let this mean I’m going to flunk this class.

  One of the main reasons she’d declined biker boy’s offer last night was because she did not want a distraction from her art work. But how was she going to avoid that now, with hot hoodie boy sitting right there beside her all throughout class??

  The professor announced that it was time to pass in their first sketch projects. Vicky carefully tore hers out of her sketchbook and passed it up. Hoodie boy lowered his head guiltily, running his long fingers along the edge of their shared grey desk.

  “It’s okay,” Vicky found herself saying to him. “You’re new. I doubt it will matter in the final grade.”

  She did not know what had possessed her to speak up like that. But he raised his head and looked at her, smiling slightly roguishly. “The thing about it is, I was told about it but I still didn’t do it.”

  Vicky shrugged. “Like I said. It won’t matter, so long as you do the other projects.”

  He continued to look at her, appraising her, memorizing every detail of her face, apparently. “I’m Stuart,” he said, offering his hand. “Stuart Barkley.”

  She blinked at him and took his hand, shaking it a little before releasing. “Vicky Roberts,” she replied. “It’s nice to meet you.”

  Once their introductions were over, the class settled in to the day’s lesson on shading. They were given an assignment to draw a still life and be sure to focus on shadows so that they would utilize the shading practices she taught them.

  “Honestly, she teaches like we’re all novices at this,” Stuart said under his breath again.

  Vicky giggled softly.

  As she drew a detailed rendering of her art supplies as they lay on her desk, careful to shade one side of her pencil case and not the other, she glanced over and saw that Stuart was drawing her in profile.

  She blushed, flattered and not knowing what to say. Should she even say anything? It would more than likely ruin the moment.

  Instead of letting the subject matter of his drawing overpower her feelings, Vicky admired his technique. When Stuart first came into the classroom, without his project and acting like the typical lazy guy she’d known while she was an undergrad, she assumed that he would not be so skilled. Then she remembered that this was a prestigious program and she was not the only one there who’d earned their place in the classroom.

  This drawing of his proved that to her. Stuart was not only painfully attractive, he was also very talented. Maybe it would not be so bad if he distracted Vicky after all. He could distract her and inspire her at the same time.

  When class was over for the day and Vicky packed up her things, Stuart placed his small sketch pad back into the front pocket of his hoodie. “What do you do for fun around here?” he asked. “You seem to have your shit together more than I do.”

  She smiled at him. She could tell that he was a transplant from some other state, like she was. Amos had helped her be more attuned to that, not that it mattered to her where a person was from. “I wouldn’t call it fun, but I work at a bar
nearby called Zydeco,” she told him. “I work there most nights to pay for this school.”

  Stuart nodded, appearing thoughtful when she mentioned the bar’s name. “That’s a dangerous place. I’ve heard it’s mostly visited by bikers and thugs.”

  Vicky shrugged a little. “Aren’t most bars like that?”

  “Do you like to go hiking?” he asked, changing the subject. “We should go hiking outside the city one of these days. There’s more to Louisiana than bars and art and jazz.”

  “Oh, really?” she joked. “That’s not what my travel book said.”

  That made Stuart smile. He seemed like a cool guy. A little over-cautious, but cool. She couldn’t blame him for being wary of the bar. After all, he had a point. The place was crawling with unsavory types, try as her boss might to keep them out.

  “I’m free all day two days from now,” Vicky said. “You can pick me up here.” She pulled her sketchbook out of her bag and sacrificed a corner of one page to writing down the address of Zydeco. She did not want to give out her home address to anyone just yet. Stranger danger, all that stuff. She tore the corner off and handed it to Stuart. The rest of that ripped page could be used as a draft page, she thought.

  Stuart took the paper and neatly folded it before placing it into the front pouch of his hoodie as well. “Thanks,” he said. “What time will be good for you?”

  “Afternoon?” she replied. “We can solidify the plan closer to the day?”

  “So… tomorrow?” he asked, smiling at her.

  She smiled back. “Tomorrow.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  Everybody’s Staring

  Vicky had a few hours between her class and her shift. She took advantage of the free time by sleeping as soon as she got home. She would need to be well-rested if she had any hope of working from four to midnight. Sometimes she wondered why she had ever agreed to eight hours of the late night shift ‘whenever available.’ But then she remembered her rent plus utilities plus left over tuition that the scholarship didn’t cover, and she felt like crying.

  This is just temporary, she reminded herself blearily as she lay on her bed, trying to will her brain into sleep.

  Before long, the bears were back, this time they were in her apartment, and growling something as if she was supposed to understand.

  The alarm at three thirty saved her. She snapped awake and felt relief flow through her. Then she exchanged her jeans and blouse for short shorts, and another neon Zydeco shirt. This time, she’d be wearing bright pink.

  She hobbled into work and started serving drinks at the bar, all the while imagining Stuart Barkley and what he would look like in hiking gear. Would he look the same plus boots? She smirked a little.

  At one point, she glanced over and realized that a guy was staring at her from a nearby table. He was wearing a black leather jacket that perfectly matched his black hair. His eyes appeared to be green and he looked familiar to Vicky.

  Then she realized where she knew him from. He was the guy from the night before. Amos Steele. A strange sensation of fear vibrated through her spine.

  Suddenly, the glass she was filling from the tap overflowed onto the floor.

  “Shit!” she shouted, letting go of the tap. She hadn’t been paying attention. “That was stupid,” she said, grabbed a roll of paper towels and getting to work cleaning up as soon as possible.

  Ben, the head bartender and the boss, stared at her as if she’d gone mental. “Are you all right, Vicky?” he asked her, his annoyance making it hard for him to also sound concerned.

  She nodded, dumping a pile of sopping towels into the trash. “Yeah. I’m sorry. I guess I’m a little out of it tonight.”

  As soon as the spot was clean, she made sure the glassful of beer was okay before serving it to the waiting customer. “Sorry for the delay,” she said, strolling back up to the bar from the tables.

  When she turned and looked back in the direction where she thought she’d seen Amos, there was no sight of him. Either he was gone now or he’d never been there in the first place.

  It doesn’t matter now that I didn’t want him to be a distraction, she thought. It looks like he’s a distraction anyway.

  The following morning, Vicky felt like she may as well not have even tried to sleep. The bears were relentless, and she tossed and turned all night. “I’m wondering if I ought to see a counselor about this,” she said out loud to herself as she stared at her alarm clock, wishing it did not say nine thirty.

  After a few moments spent cursing the time, she got out of bed and started her morning routine. As she placed her bag onto her back, she wondered if Stuart would be sitting beside her in class again. The seats were not assigned, but still she hoped so. She thought they’d struck up a pretty good rapport. And she could not wait to see the final product of his drawing.

  When she got to class, she realized, chagrined, that she was wearing the short shorts that she usually reserved for work. Ah well, she thought. At least it will make changing easier.

  Stuart entered the classroom shortly before the professor. Sure enough, he sat beside Vicky as though that was his assigned seat. “Good morning,” he said to her.

  Unless she was imagining things, he sounded a bit gruffer than before. Maybe he’d been out partying late last night. He didn’t seem like a partier, but then she did not really know him. He could have been completely wild. She blushed a little, just thinking about that.

  The class handed in their completed shading exercises. Vicky glanced over at Stuart’s as he passed it up to the professor. He had made her appear so flawless. It was artistic license. She knew that she did not quite look that good. She had the odd blemish here, an old scar there. But she appreciated that he had chosen her as his subject.

  “Your assignment over the weekend is to go out somewhere and draw something that you see. Take a moment, find a bench and draw your surroundings,” their professor said. “I will be choosing the top three drawings and they will be submitted to this month’s edition of The Fly.”

  The Fly was the academy’s publication that showcased the best and brightest students. It was named after a park that was a short walk away from the school. That gave Vicky an idea. She had a pretty good feeling that she wouldn’t be alone in thinking it, but it would still be good.

  She would go to The Fly that weekend during her time off from work!

  As she packed up her things at the end of class that day, she smiled over at Stuart. “See you tomorrow for a hike?” she asked him. “If you don’t see me at Zydeco, look for me at The Fly.”

  “Oh, I’ll find you,” he said.

  She believed that he meant that to be said in a joking way, but there was something about his tone that was somewhat off. He was different that day. Quiet, moody. Maybe he really had had a bad night last night…

  When Vicky got home, she wrote down her tentative plans for the weekend on her whiteboard calendar that she kept in her kitchen. It was the sort of thing that was usually found in a college dorm room. That was what she’d bought it for, initially.

  She did not usually use it anymore. She did not usually have much in the way of plans.

  Visit The Fly

  Go Hiking

  She threw off her shirt and took a nap in her shorts and bra, allowing herself a little extra time for sleeping since all she’d need to do was put on another neon work shirt. Her alarm went off so cruelly when she felt she’d only just fallen asleep.

  Putting on a green Zydeco shirt, she brushed her short hair and put it up into small pigtails. Her hair’s length did not allow for much in the way of styling, but there was something about tiny pigtails that made her happy. Maybe it was the fact that they reminded her of a cartoon character from the 90s.

  Ready to go, she left her apartment, locking her door behind her. Vicky was excited to go to work today, but she couldn’t say why. She supposed it was because it would be her last day before a full weekend off. That was a rarity, and it was a rarity that she ai
med to take advantage of.

  Everything at work was the normal sort of thing she found there. It was muggy and loud and full of big, brawny men who were drinking together or separately and carrying on loud conversations with each other. A little young lady like Vicky could easily get lost in there. Hence the bright t-shirts.

  The sexy young biker guy was there again. She saw him sitting by himself at practically the same table where she’d first seen him. He was staring right at her and didn’t look away when she looked.

  Vicky blushed and looked away. She needed to focus on her job. Last time they had had a staring contest like that, she’d ended up spilling Coors Light all over the floor and counter. Ben had his eye on her and would most likely send her home early if that happened again. She couldn’t spare the tip money for something so stupid.

  Instead, she filled her mind with thoughts of Stuart Barkley. He was out of it in class today, but they had plans to go on a… Was it a date? A hiking date. Vicky smiled again as she imagined him hiking in his blue hoodie, jeans and big brown boots. She didn’t know why the image was so funny to her. He just didn’t seem like the sort of guy who went hiking. He was tall and spindly looking.

  Unlike Amos Steele. She cast a glance his way and noted how big he was. He was built more like a mountaineer. He looked like he could knock down a tree with his bare hands. She realized that, although he’d introduced himself as a biker, she’d never actually seen him on a motorcycle. She wondered how he managed that. His bike must be a monster.

  Thinking about the two young men who frequently occupied her thoughts helped make the time pass. It wasn’t long before she was clearing and cleaning up the bar after hours. Vicky yawned and put her little pocketed apron away in the back.

  “See you Monday,” she announced to everyone.

  There were grumbles of assent. The workers there got one weekend off a month and no one else that night was getting their weekend free. Vicky would have felt bad if she hadn’t been in there shoes for three weeks prior. Everyone there learned to live with the schedule, or went somewhere else.

 

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