Biker's Virgin

by Claire Adams

  “I do.”

  “And, can you get a picnic basket together by seven this evening?”

  “Not a problem. I know exactly what she likes. Is this for a picnic?”

  “Kind of. There's a charity bachelor auction that Brooke is co-chairing tonight. One of my friends from drama class is one of the bachelors, but he doesn't really want to do it. I'll convince him to switch places with you so you'll be up for auction. And if everything comes together like I'm hoping it will, Brooke is going to be the winning bidder on you, my friend. Just do everything I tell you to and Brooke will be yours by the end of the night. Come on, we don't have much time.”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Brooke

  The rumbling of a V8 engine conveyed that Garrett had arrived to pick me up and take me to the bachelor auction. I did one last make-up check to make sure everything looked perfect since I’d be in the limelight as co-chair—it did. I smoothed a hand over the black cocktail dress I'd chose to wear and admired the new pair of heels I picked up earlier. I couldn’t help thinking it was a shame Emerson wasn’t going to see me all glammed up. Then I wanted to slap myself for even thinking about him. I shook the thought from my mind and locked up the apartment to head down to the car.

  Garrett, as he had before, was waiting next to his Mustang holding the passenger door open for me. He was dressed in a light beige suit and I had to say, he looked pretty attractive.

  “Well, hey there, gorgeous!” he beamed with a toothy smile. “I do believe I might be a little weak in the knees!”

  “Thanks,” I said with a nervous chuckle. The compliment was nice, but there was still something about him I couldn't quite put my finger on that felt a little off. I told myself it wasn’t him; it was my past experience with men. He was at least a distraction from thinking about Emerson who, despite all my best efforts, remained constantly running through my thoughts. Damn him.

  Garrett and I headed over to campus, making light conversation along the way. As I listened, I wondered if my uncertain feeling about Garrett was there because he always seemed to have the perfect responses to whatever I said, and he was really well-informed on… well, pretty much everything, it seemed. Admittedly, it was kind of difficult to escape his charm.

  As we rolled through campus, Garrett's car certainly turned a few heads. I could feel people staring as I stepped out of the beautiful, gleaming vehicle dressed to the nines with a dapper-looking man on my arm.

  “Shall we?” Garrett said and nodded his head toward the main hall where the bachelor auction was to be held.

  “We shall,” I replied with a smile.

  The team had done a great job decking the place out. To top it off, everyone was dressed to kill. It was an awesome sight to see, and I felt proud of our RAG team for having pulled it off so perfectly. We walked through the main entrance, where Garrett paid his entry fee (even though it wasn't as if he was gonna be placing any bids) before we headed up to the stage and over to the desk I'd be sitting at with Stacy. The audiovisual guys were still setting up the microphones and cables. I looked around, but it seemed Stacy hadn't arrived yet, so Garrett took a seat next to me in the chair Stacy would later occupy.

  One of the other volunteers from RAG saw me and came over to have a quick chat about microphone placement and a question one of the bachelors had asked. While I was talking to her, out of the corner of my eye, I saw Garrett take his phone out of his pocket. He started typing something on it and that strange smile spread across his lips again—the smile that made me feel distinctly uncomfortable. When I was finished with my conversation, he quickly slipped the phone back into his pocket, seemingly unaware that I had noticed him sending messages on it.

  I checked the time. “Hmm, I think we may have been a little earlier than needed,” I commented. “There's still a little bit to go.”

  “Yeah,” he said. “I just assumed there would be more traffic on the way. Better safe than sorry though, right?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  “Hey, they have drinks for sale just outside in the hall. You want one?” Garrett asked.

  “Sure.”

  “I think there was fruit punch, tea, soda, or coffee. What’s your poison?”

  I chuckled. “I think I'll go with the fruit punch.”

  “I'll be back in a minute.”

  He stood and walked off the stage and then headed out into the hall. I noticed his phone lying on the chair. It had obviously slipped out of his pocket when he'd stood up.

  I knew I shouldn't, but a burning curiosity compelled me to pick it up and have a look at what he’d been typing. It was that gut instinct I had ignored so many times with Andrew. There had just been something about the look in his eyes and the smile on his lips while he'd been typing that message that had me incredibly suspicious.

  I swiped the simple L-shaped code I’d seen him do several times and hoped it was right. The screen lit up. I knew it wasn't right, and it wasn't something I'd normally do, but my sixth sense had been tingling furiously about this guy, and after everything I’d dealt with in the man department, I was at a point of stepping over the line to make sure I didn’t pick another d-bag to let my walls down for.

  I glanced at the screen to find his text messages still open with some guy named Nick. As I read through them, my jaw dropped and my blood began to boil.

  Nick: So, you gonna seal the deal with the uptight chem partner tonight?

  Garrett: Not tonight, unfortunately. She's a tough nut to crack, but she'll put out soon enough. They always do.

  Nick: It's that Mustang, man. The rumble of that V8 hits 'em right where they need it.

  Garrett: LOL! It's a vibrator with wheels.

  Nick: Did you give her the bullshit story about restoring it from scrap with your dad?

  Garrett: Yep. And like they always do, she fell for it, hook, line, and sinker.

  Nick: Awesome. Well, don’t take too long baggin’ that one. I’m still two ahead of ya.

  Garrett: No way! I’m at 12! And I've had blowjobs from another 8 on top of that. No way you’re at 14.

  Nick: I am. And, I have 3 videos. Bonus points if you can get video of the uptight chick. She's smokin' hot, dude. I wouldn't mind a look at that naked.

  Garrett: You know you'll be the first to get the video when it happens. Note that I said WHEN, not IF. And—”

  The stage door slammed, and I looked up to see Garrett coming back. With my heart pounding in my chest and anger and disgust gushing through my veins, I quickly locked up the phone again and slipped it back on the chair. I couldn't say anything to him, of course. Doing so would mean revealing that I'd snooped around in his phone. But I didn’t need to say anything. I’d learned what I needed to know and I'd never speak to the scumbag again after tonight. I'd find an excuse, and he'd be gone. When he handed me the glass of punch and smiled that fake, insincere smile of his at me, I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do more—vomit or throw the drink in his face.

  “Thanks,” I said, doing my best to keep my emotions in check.

  Luckily, at that moment, Stacy showed up to divert my attention and rage.

  “You should go find a seat with the audience there,” I said to Garrett. When he stood, his phone was still in the chair. “Oh, look, you left your phone on the chair. Don't forget it.”

  “Thanks,” he said as he picked it up. “I'll see you later, beautiful.”

  I pressed my lips tightly together in a forced smile and nodded as I watched him go, seething with disgust and anger as he did, but managing to keep it under control.

  Leslie passed Garrett as he walked through the stage doors She was walking quickly, like a woman on a mission. I’d seen the look on her face before. Pure determination. Something was up.

  She saw me at the desk on stage and made a beeline straight for me just as the stage lights came on and the other lights started to dim.

  She ran up onto the stage and my eyes widened. “Les, what are you doing? You've gotta get off the
stage; we're starting!”

  “Meet me backstage at intermission, alright?” she said with urgency coloring her voice. “It's really super important! You are going to want to know about this.”

  “Alright, alright, backstage at intermission! Got it. Now go, off the stage!”

  “Be there!” she demanded as she hurried off stage.

  I couldn’t imagine what could be so important to have her acting as if it were some sort of emergency.

  Stacy nudged me in the ribs as I watched Leslie disappear into the shadows of the side stage. “You ready?” She asked.

  I nodded. “Let's get this show on the road.”

  She smiled, stood from her seat, stepped behind the first podium, and took a microphone. I followed her lead and picked up the second mic that had been set up at a my own podium.

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” she said, the sound of her voice echoing through the crowded hall as it vibrated from every speaker. “Welcome to tonight's RAG charity bachelor auction! We have a stunning lineup of eligible bachelors who are just waiting to take you on the date of your dreams! I hope you're ready to bid and bid generously!”

  A cheer resounded through the auditorium.

  “It certainly sounds like you are ready! I won’t keep you ladies waiting. Please welcome our first bachelor of the evening, Calum Jones!”

  A tall, handsome guy in a white suit sauntered onto stage holding a bouquet of flowers and a smile beaming from his bearded face. I turned to the first page of my booklet and began to read.

  “Calum is twenty-two years old and a member of our own Blue Devil basketball team where he plays first-string point guard. Calum’s hobbies include playing the drums, recording and editing videos, and cooking Mediterranean cuisine…”

  The first half of our bachelor auction took about an hour. But when the time came for an intermission, I did what I had to do to help Stacy and then hurried to the backstage area to meet Leslie, curious as hell about what her emergency was.

  She was there waiting, tapping her foot impatiently on the floor. “You took your sweet time!” she exclaimed.

  “Sorry, I had to tally up the bids before I could get backstage. What's the problem? Is everything alright? Are you alright?”

  “I'm fine. But there's been a major, major screw-up involving you! And, since part of it was my fault, I'm doing what I can to make it right.”

  I scrunched my forehead and peered at her in a confused state. “Screw-up? How? What exactly happened? What are you talking about?”

  “Hard to explain. Just watch this.” She tapped a few times on her phone and brought up a video for me to watch. I was surprised to see our neighbor Chris. It seemed to be a hidden recording. The bottom half of the screen was covered by material, evidently someone's pocket, in which the phone had been hidden.

  “You listening?” asked Les as she held her finger over the play button on the screen.

  “Sure. But what on earth does our neighbor Chris have to do with anything?”

  “Just listen, and you'll see.”

  She hit play, and the voice that came from the phone speaker immediately cut straight through my ear-drums and traveled directly into my heart: Emerson.

  “Hey, man,” Emerson said.

  “Dude,” a very drunk-looking Chris replied.

  “Are you seriously wasted at three o’clock in the afternoon?”

  “What? It’s a Saturday,” Chris mumbled.

  “Are you planning on having another party tonight? You know you can’t be loud again. You’re on probation.”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah. I know, Mom. It’s just gonna be a couple of the girls coming over a little later.”

  “Girls? As in more than one?” Emerson asked.

  “Well, at first, man. Only one of them is gonna stay. I’m a one woman at a time kinda man, ya know, bro,” Chris said with an inebriated laugh.

  “One at a time, huh? Tell me, Chris, how many different girls have you had over just this month?”

  Chris laughed loudly and obnoxiously before replying. “Dude, I've been killing it! I think eight or ten different chicks, just this month. How's that for playing the game, bro?!” He laughed again and then reached for a beer, from which he drank a hefty swig.

  “I hope you haven't been doing anything in the kitchen or the living room, dude,” Emerson commented.

  “No way, man, only in my bedroom. Why do you care, though? You don't even live here anymore.”

  Leslie paused the clip.

  “Wait,” I stated, glaring at her. “I’m confused. Emerson doesn't live next door to us anymore.”

  “Seriously? That’s what you got from all that?” She rolled her eyes at me. “No. He doesn’t. And he hasn't since the night the cops came over. He's been living at his mother's house until last night when he moved into his new apartment—which he had to sell his motorcycle to pay for. Now, keep listening and pay close attention.”

  She pressed play on the video again.

  “Oh, just asking,” Emerson said. “Tell me something, what's the view out of your bedroom window again, what can you see?”

  Chris raised an eyebrow as he sipped on the beer again. “Huh? Dude, you've been in my room. You know what the view from my window is. Why the hell are you asking me that?”

  “Just humor me, man. I'm, uh, testing your short-term memory.”

  “Uh, okay bro,” Chris replied. “If I look out my window, the first thing I always see is the big water tower on the hill.”

  “Yeah, that's right. I can't see it from my side of the apartment,” Emerson stated.

  Leslie paused the video again. “Do you know what this means?” she asked. “Has it hit you yet?”

  “Umm…I t ink it might have,” I replied, realization beginning to dawn on me.

  “Brooke, what's the first thing you notice when you look out of your bedroom window?”

  “The… shit. The big water tower on the hill.”

  It hit me like a ton of bricks. “Oh my God,” I exclaimed. “It was Chris. It was Chris all along.”

  “Damn right, girl! All the porno practices you heard through your wall—that wasn't Emerson! His room was on the other side of the apartment!”

  “Oh no,” I gasped, as I felt my blood starting to run cold. “Oh my God, Les, I made a terrible mistake.”

  “Yeah, you did—and so did Emerson when he assumed you were the one who called the cops. But, he's really, really sorry about doing that. I’ve talked to him, ya know. There’s one thing I can say for sure. All he wants is you, Brooke.”

  “But what if… What if it's too late? I sent him a really nasty message telling him to never speak to me again. And, I did that all because I made a horrible assumption about him.”

  “Well, I guess that means you're both even,” she chimed. “And it is time to put the mistakes of the past behind you and do what's right! Fix this mess!”

  “But how am I supposed to do that?”

  “I hope you've got your credit card on you,” she said with a cryptic smile.

  Stacy came backstage just as I was about to ask what the hell she meant by that. “Brooke, we're about to start again, come on!”

  “I'll chat to you after the auction is done,” I said to Leslie. “Thanks so much for showing me this. We can sort this out after the auction.”

  “Oh, I think maybe you'll sort it all out before the auction is over,” Leslie declared with a wink.

  I wanted to ask her what she meant by that, but the cue music had already begun. I hurried back to the stage and took my place.

  “Ready to call out the next guy?” asked Stacy.

  “As ready as I’m gonna be,” I replied.

  We continued with the auction until we reached the final candidate. I glanced back at the silhouette standing in the shadows at the edge of the stage. Something about the figure commanded my attention, although I couldn't quite place what it was. I didn’t have time to try to decide what it was. Stacy called out his name and I flipped t
he page to read his bio to the audience.

  “And the final bachelor of the evening is Ricardo Daniels. Come on out, Ricardo!”

  The man walked out into the spotlight and my heart almost stopped. It seemed Ricardo Daniels was the alter ego of Emerson Reed.

  Taking in the sight of Emerson looking absolutely gorgeous in a dark gray suit and coordinating tie, was almost more than I could recover from. My stare stalled on his slicked back hair and square jaw, rough with stubble. He held a picnic basket and big bouquet of flowers. That wasn’t all that unusual for the evening, but the ribbon around them with my name printed across it was.

  I put down the program and began to speak from my heart instead. “Ricardo, otherwise known as Emerson, is twenty years old. This bachelor is extremely intelligent, generous, sweet, and hard-working. He has a heart of gold. He loves riding motorcycles and has a passion for science, physics, and chemistry. To top all of that off, he’s a big Game of Thrones fan. And, as perfect as he looks, sometimes he makes mistakes—like all of us do because we're only human. In my opinion, ladies, our last bachelor is the catch of the evening. We're going to start the bidding at $100.”

  A girl in the audience immediately put up her hand.

  “Can you take over?” I whispered to Stacy.

  She looked surprised but nodded and took the mic from me. “We have $150 down there,” Stacy announced. “Now, do we have $160?”

  Another girl raised her hand. Meanwhile, I rushed off stage, grabbed a paddle left laying on a table, and took an empty seat at the back.

  “Do we have $170?” asked Stacy.

  Yet another girl raised her hand.

  “$180?”

  Another hand went up.

  Emerson saw me at the back and our eyes locked, and an intense expression passed between us. Heat rushed through me. I raised my hand.

  “$350!” I shouted.

  It was the largest bid of the evening and everyone fell silent. Stacy stared at me from the stage.

  “Are you sure? $350?”

  “Absolutely!” I replied.