MC ROMANCE: Wanted by the Alpha Biker (Motorcycle Club Alpha Male Bad Boy Romance) (MC Romantic Suspense Contemporary New Adult Short Stories)

by Alix Labelle

  Behind the counter, Bridget removed her apron and said, “Nobody else is coming in, Mike. I’m going home and start dinner. Should I make enough for you, too?”

  He glanced down at Stina. “Will you join me for dinner at the restaurant again?”

  Stina was hesitant. After Lars’ outburst the last time she ate in public with Mike, did she dare say yes? What the heck! This was a special day for Mike, and he probably wanted to celebrate with a friend for a little while.

  “Sure,” she replied.

  He looked back to Bridget and grinned. “No, thank you. I’m going to be busy tonight.”

  Bridget chuckled as she passed them at the counter. “I’m not surprised. I’ll see you tomorrow, brother.” She glanced over at Stina with a grin. “Have a good evening, you two.”

  “Turn over the closed sign on your way out,” Mike said, “and close the door.”

  Bridget’s laugh flooded Stina’s ears just before she closed the office door.

  Not knowing how to react now that they were completely alone, Stina wandered away from Mike as she slid her hand over the smooth counter surface.

  “I can’t believe how beautiful this counter is,” she said, determined to keep her distance.

  “The wood in this area is beautiful,” he agreed, “but not as beautiful as a certain woman I know.”

  She’d left her hair long that day since she didn’t have to work, and now Mike slipped his fingers into it. Her locks were wavy and a baby-fine blonde, and by the way he caressed it, she could tell that he liked touching it. Oh, how she loved the way he ran his fingers gently over the waves down her back.

  Mike grasped her shoulders tenderly and turned her to face him. “I want to thank you for agreeing to have dinner with me tonight.”

  She stared up at him, unable to take her gaze from his green eyes. She loved the bright color of them; it was almost as thought she was looking at emeralds.

  Then his hands slipped down her upper arms to her elbows and slid back up again. He repeated this motion several times before he linked his fingers behind her neck and rested his wrists on her shoulders. It was such a seductive move that she couldn’t resist reaching up and gently grasping his forearms. She trailed them up to his elbows. His forearms were more muscular that she would have thought now that she could feel them under his cotton shirt. He worked at banking in New York City; she knew that much. And he did a lot of writing about different things. What could he possibly do to firm up his arms so well?

  “I’m glad you could come today,” Mike said, breaking the silence that Stina suddenly realized had lasted many seconds.

  “I am, too,” she replied, unable to get the volume much higher than a whisper.

  What was blocking her vocal cords, keeping her from speaking louder? Whatever it was had also caused something in her chest to constrict, making it almost impossible to breathe.

  “I wanted you here more than anything,” he admitted as he leaned a little closer. “That’s why I scheduled it to happen on a Sunday. I know it’s the only day you don’t work.”

  His breath was hot against her forehead as he lowered his head. If she weren’t so shy, she could just lean into him and kiss him. That’s really what she wanted right now—a kiss, not talk. She stared up at him, her gaze riveted to his full lips. Then she couldn’t see them anymore because they grazed her forehead. It was just a brush of a kiss, but Stina thought she would melt into a puddle right there in his office.

  Suddenly, he broke away from her and said, “We should probably leave before I do something a gentleman shouldn’t.”

  As disappointed as Stina was, she agreed. It was probably foolhardy to engage in more than this in an office where anybody could open the door and walk in. They should do this in private, where nobody could see them.

  Chapter 7

  Elise bought a copy of the first edition of the paper and read it to Moya and Stina after dinner at the couple’s house the next night. There wasn’t much in it, news from San Francisco and Sacramento and a local interest story—about Stina and her business, as well as her need for an assistant.

  Mike hadn’t forgotten, Stina realized, even after nine weeks. He had said that he would print something, but she hadn’t believed he would do it in the first edition. Stina felt a tingle of joy that he would remember. Why? Was it just because he had followed up on his promise, unlike Lars had done on two occasions?

  A knock at the door startled them, and Elise went to answer it. From her seat across the room, Stina could see that one of the saloon girl prostitutes stood on the doorstep.

  “May I help you?” Elise asked.

  “I went to the washhouse, but it was closed, of course,” the woman said. “I didn’t know where Stina Benson lived, but everybody knows where you live and that she came to Forestville with you. I’m looking for a job in her laundry.”

  Startled that this had happened so soon, or even at all, Stina rose and went to the door.

  “We’ll talk outside,” Stina told Elise as she left the house.

  “Miss Benson,” the woman said, extending her hand toward Stina, “I’m Gloria Scott, and I would like to work for you.”

  There it was again—Miss Benson. She was awfully tired of having to correct people on the pronunciation. Maybe she should just do what Karin did and let everybody call her that, even introduce herself as Stina Benson. She’d stubbornly held on to her Swedish roots for almost three years now. Maybe it was time to let go a little at a time and become more Americanized. She wanted to speak without an accent as much as possible. Why not use an Americanized name as well?

  Deciding not to correct Gloria, Stina asked, “May I ask why you want to work for me?”

  “I hate working in the saloon, and I thought maybe I could work for you most of the time. Then I could only work maybe a night or two at the saloon until I earn enough to get out of there. I would stop right away, but I have to pay for my room. They take it out of my earnings.”

  “How did you hear about my opening?”

  Gloria grimaced, as though she was embarrassed by her words. “I can’t read, but somebody in the saloon was reading his paper out loud, and I heard him read the article. Would you be willing to take a chance on me? Being a hooker is dangerous, and I have to give most of my money away, so I don’t actually earn very much.”

  “How is it dangerous?” Stina asked curiously.

  “I don’t know if you heard or not, but I was beaten a while back. It was bad, and I couldn’t work for about three weeks. The bastard broke my rib and my nose. I had two black eyes, so no man wanted to hire me.”

  “I heard about that. I really felt sorry for you. Will your broken rib cause you pain if you work washing clothes? It’s not an easy job, you know. It’s very … Um, vat’s the vord? Fysiska.” Frustrated, Stina knocked on the side of her forehead with the heel of her hand. “Darn! Sometimes the English vord yust von’t come to me.”

  “Do you mean physical?” Gloria asked.

  “Ja! Det är det!” Stina felt her face heat as she blushed. Gloria probably didn’t understand a word she’d just said. “I’m sorry, Gloria. I try hard to remember to speak English, but sometimes I just forget—like when I’m frustrated, exhausted or angry. I said, Yes, that’s it.”

  With a smile, Gloria replied, “I know. I’ve heard it many times from Swedish men who pay for my services. Anyway, I don’t think the physical part of the job will be a big problem. I’ve been healed for some time now, and I see no reason I can’t do the work.”

  “I don’t know how much the job will pay yet,” Stina admitted. “I had no idea that Mike was going to publish the article so soon, and I haven’t figured that out yet.”

  “It doesn’t matter. Anything you can afford will be fine.”

  “Then the job is yours,” Stina said. “Come to the washhouse tomorrow morning, and I’ll start training you.”

  “Thank you, Miss Benson. You won’t regret taking a chance on me.”

  “Y
ou’re welcome, Gloria,” she replied as the woman hurried away. “And call me Stina.”

  Stina couldn’t wait to leave Elise’s house and find Mike so she could thank him. Immediately, she thanked Elise for dinner and reading the paper to them and left in search of Mike.

  First she went to the restaurant to see if he was eating. He wasn’t there, and Mr. Anderson told her that he had left about an hour earlier without having eaten. Mr. Anderson assumed that Mike was going to have dinner with his sister. So Stina headed over to Jared Coleman’s house on the edge of town.

  Thunder rumbled in the distance, but Stina thought nothing of it. It thundered here quite often, but that didn’t necessarily mean it would rain. Besides, she wanted to tell Mike how quickly she’d found an assistant. By the time she reached the Coleman residence, there were occasional drips from the sky, but nothing to take note of other than that they were there.

  On the front porch, Stina knocked on the door and waited until Jared opened it.

  “Stina!” he said in surprise. “What are you doing here?”

  “Stina’s here?” Mike shouted from somewhere inside.

  His footsteps grew louder as he approached the door. He appeared in the doorway, asking, “Did you see the newspaper article about your business?”

  “I did,” she replied with a smile, “and that’s why I came. Mr. Anderson told me that you might be here.”

  Mike turned toward the inside and said, “Thanks for dinner, Bridge. I’m going to talk to Stina on the porch then I’ll walk her home.” He turned back to look at her. “If she’ll let me?”

  “It isn’t necessary,” Stina replied.

  “Don’t be silly. Your house is almost completely across town. I wouldn’t be a gentleman if I didn’t walk you.” He closed the door and grasped her elbow and led her to the porch swing, asking, “So you came here about the article?”

  “I did,” she replied, settling onto the bench swing. “I wanted to thank you. I didn’t realize that you would publish the article so soon.”

  “I promised you that I would.”

  She watched as he sank down beside her. After all the times her suitors had promised her things and not followed through, she didn’t think Mike wouldn’t. Then again, Mike wasn’t her suitor, not technically, anyway. He was just a friend who maybe wanted to be a suitor.

  After a soft sigh, she admitted, “I’m not used to men keeping promises they’ve made to me.”

  “Well, it’s time you’re shown that men can do it. I was raised to always keep my promises, and I’ve never broken one.”

  “I can’t tell you how grateful I am that you wrote it, Mike. I already have a helper. In fact, she tracked me down to Elise’s house because she wanted the job so bad.”

  “That’s wonderful! What’s her name?”

  “Gloria Scott.”

  “I don’t believe I’ve ever heard of her.”

  Stina smiled. If Mike hadn’t heard of Gloria, he probably didn’t frequent the saloon or pay prostitutes to take care of his manly needs. Whereas, she knew for a fact that Lars was at the saloon almost every night. It wouldn’t surprise her if he knew exactly who Gloria was.

  “Now I just have to figure out how much to pay her. I told her that I don’t know yet, but she didn’t care.”

  “I’ll help you decide a fair salary—maybe by the load of laundry she washes or irons.”

  “I would appreciate that.” A crack of thunder startled Stina and she slapped her hand over her heart. “That was loud. Maybe I should get home.”

  “I should probably get back to the hotel before it starts pouring, too.”

  He stood and extended his hand toward her. She put hers in his and his fingers wrapped around her hand tenderly before he pulled her up. Bending his arm, he put her hand in the crook of his elbow and escorted her down the steps.

  Chapter 8

  Stina enjoyed their light banter as they wandered back to the house she shared with Karin. It was nice to be on the arm of a true gentleman, and Mike could talk about all kinds of things and make her laugh at serious topics when their conversation got too gloomy.

  Lars rarely made her giggle, and when he did, he usually turned out to be serious. He didn’t want to laugh at himself, and he hated it when others did. Mike often made jokes at his own expense and seemed to enjoy it if someone poked fun at him. The two were so different that she wasn’t sure she would ever be able to choose which one she wanted to pursue.

  They were three blocks from her home when the clouds opened and dumped them with a sudden rain. Holding up her skirts, Stina bolted toward the house. Keeping pace, Mike ran at her side. By the time they reached the house minutes later, they were both drenched.

  While Stina searched her wet pocket for the house key, Mike took off his jacket. Pulling the key from her pocket, she held it aloft and turned toward Mike. The white, cotton shirt clung to his body, soaked even though he’d had on a jacket. As he wrung out his jacket, she stared at him.

  His biceps flexed enticingly. His shoulders were broad and muscular. His pectorals bulged with masculinity and his stomach … Oh, that stomach! Even under his shirt, she could see that his abdomen was more than flat. It was rippled unlike any man’s she’d ever seen. How could a man who worked at a desk job be so well defined?

  With a shake of her head, she tore her gaze from his body before he could see her staring, put the key in the lock, and opened the door. When she turned toward him to thank him for walking her home, she noticed him staring at her chest. She glanced down, stunned to find that, in her coldness, her nipples were hard against her dress.

  Oh, my God, he can see it, she thought. But the words that came out of her mouth hadn’t even presented themselves in her head until she heard them. “You should come in and get out of those wet clothes.”

  He shot his startled gaze to her face. “I should just go back to the hotel.”

  “Don’t be silly,” she said, grabbing his wrist and dragging him into the house. “You’re soaked, and it will just get worse. Let’s build a fire in the fireplace and one in the stove. That should warm us up at the same time it dries our clothes.”

  Although he willingly let her pull him inside, he said, “I don’t think this is a good idea, Stina.”

  Noticing that no lamps were lit, Stina realized that Karin wasn’t home. “It’s just the two of us. Nobody’s going to care. There are no lamps lit, so Karin must be spending the night at the Coleman house. She does that when the weather is expected to be bad.”

  “That’s another reason I don’t think this is a very good idea,” he replied, closing the door behind him.

  “Would you please build at least one of the fires while I change into dry clothes? Then you can go into Karin’s room and change your clothes. For some reason, she loves sleeping in men’s nightshirts, so you might find one your size in her armoire.”

  Then Stina fled into her bedroom as casually as she could. She needed to put on something dry to hide her figure from Mike. That way he might not feel uncomfortable around her.

  Standing in front of the mirror, Stina unbuttoned her dress and let it drop at her feet. Then she removed her camisole and bloomers. She stood there naked for a few moments, studying her figure in the mirror. Her curves were pronounced, with a narrow waist and wide hips meant for childbearing, and her breasts were slightly large and firm. She’d always liked her figure, and her stomach seemed to have gotten flatter since she’d been working in the laundry. It was probably from all the hard work she put in there.

  Unexpectedly, she wondered what Mike would do if he saw her undressed. She had to stop thinking like that! He was a gentleman and probably wouldn’t do anything untoward to her.

  To get the thoughts from her mind, she dried her body, unwound the braids wrapped around her head, and released the plaits. Her hair was just as wet as the rest of her, so she tried it with a towel and brushed it out to release the tangles. Finally, she slipped into a wool robe, tied it firmly around her w
aist, and went into the other room.

  Mike stood in front of the cast-iron stove as she exited her room. When he turned to face her, his eyes widened in surprise. Apparently, he hadn’t expected her to be wearing just a robe. It was a heavy robe, though, so she didn’t see why it would be a problem.

  Then she realized that he’d removed his shirt. Both it and his jacket were draped over kitchen chairs and set in front of the fireplace to dry. Now she could see his torso. His chest had a smattering of red hair, but for the most part it was bare. His pectoral were so well defined that Stina found herself drawn to them for a moment. And his abdomen! She had never realized that a man had so many muscles to give him such a chiseled stomach.

  “I’d better see if I can find one of those nightshirts you were talking about,” he said as he passed her.

  “Wait!” she exclaimed, grabbing his arm just below his elbow as he went by her.

  It felt so strong, so hard when she gave it a light squeeze. She was being awfully forward, but she didn’t care. She desperately wanted to feel that torso before he covered it up again.

  “What is it?” he asked with a frantic tone.

  “I’ve never seen a man who looks like you,” she replied, letting her gaze settle on his stomach.

  “Do you like what you see?”

  “Very much.”

  Her fingertips slid up his arm to his shoulders. Then they meandered down his torso. Each breath he took made his chest move, and when she touched his pectorals, they jerked alive. She kept going, lower, over his rock-hard stomach, which twitched under her light touch, and onward to the waistband of his soggy denim dungarees. She glanced lower, where his maleness danced beneath his loose-fitting pants.

  “That’s a dangerous game you’re playing, my dear,” he said, his voice hoarse with desire.

  “You don’t like the game?” she asked as she let her gaze wander up his body until their eyes met.