Beauty and the Bad Boy

by Scarlett Dupree

  When I had pulled up into the garage, I had hoped the mechanic would be quick to look at it, so I could leave as soon as possible. I remember thinking: Don’t show any signs of weakness, Dakota. It was a man’s world inside garages. Hold. Your. Own. That’s what Dad used to tell me.

  My attraction to Jake really blindsided me. He'd walked up and just stood there, wiping his hands, when I pulled up. Before I even stepped out, I was regarding him in a way I hadn't regarded anyone in years. The instant my eyes locked on his existence, I knew he was a bad boy. The only words cycling through my mind were: Oh my... Bad... Oh Boy... Sex... Oh God.

  I had been expecting some middle-aged, bearded biker with a huge beer gut as I was led to believe some old biker gang ran the garage. I had not been expecting the garage to be run by a Greek God. What was he doing there? Shouldn’t his arresting figure be on some pedestal somewhere in the heavens?

  Saying he was gorgeous put it mildly. He was really tall, with broad shoulders. He had short, dark, take-me-to-bed hair that brought out his strong jaw-line, andhe was clean-shaven–my Achilles heel.

  And, holy hell, he’d been wearing a tight, black vest top, and his heavily inked arms were pact with lean muscle. Damn. Damn. Damn. If the rest of him was as defined as those arms... damn. A real pretty boy but still had that sense of roughness about him. Probably from all that muscle and ink.

  I remembered I’d made a fool of myself when I hadn’t realised I’d stopped walking. I think I drooled a little, too. I did try and move but the unexpected makes you do silly things sometimes. When he started walking towards me, he was walking in such a way, that I knew he was used to doing what he wanted, when he wanted. I knew in that second, I was in trouble. But, he was so fine, with a capital F…U.C.K.

  As he drew closer to me, I could see his unbelievably-sexy lips. His body close up was one worth worshipping, and then I could see the most beautiful azure eyes that I'd ever seen.

  They had to belong to a magical dragon somewhere… They had to. And he had been the warrior to slay the evil dragon. God, I needed to get it together and prompt. But the image of his staggering physique was melting my innards. I’ve never seen something so dangerously beautiful and perfectly formed in my life.

  I’d instantly regretted my outfit. I’d spent hours thinking what to wear. I wanted the don’t-mess-with-me look to take on the testosterone that’s a prerequisite for biker-gang garages. But I didn’t really own anything that wasn’t too girly or cute. I did find some sunglasses that looked the part of a biker chick, though.

  Now, I was wishing I had gone shopping for the tightest black leather trousers and a low-cut, tank top. Bloody hell, what was wrong with me? I hadn’t been this way in… I had never been this way!

  The instant he spoke, I knew I was a dead woman. His sonorous voice was like silky velvet licking my eardrums. It was so deep; I could feel tingles in places I didn’t even knew existed.

  But then he’d been a cocky bastard and my first thought was: Great, he was one of those types. The kind that assumed that because he was hot–in his case, super hot–every girl would automatically be interested. He must have thought he was God’s gift to women. But, why was I still so attracted to him? Maybe he wasn’t a warrior. No, he was an evil wizard. An evil, sex-wizard, pulling me in with his sexual powers. God, the thought of his sexual anything was making my legs tremble.

  At the time, I had tried to let him know that I wasn’t so easy to crumble at his godly feet. But thinking about his feet made me think about his legs, which made me think about his manly thighs and I think he’d noticed I was checking him out… Damn, though, I bet his thighs were to die for.

  And I was so annoyed with myself because I was interested in him. More than interested. Why didn’t his remarks make me mad? Usually, I would have switched off completely, but it just made me want him more. But I had held my ground. I wasn’t gonna let him know I found him superiorly hot. He probably had a truckload of girls waiting for him. I wasn’t about to jump into that load and get trampled.

  But then his dragon eyes were twinkling at me. And then… dimples appeared on his pristine face. Sexy. Lick-able. Dimples. Of course he has dimples...

  Determined to shield the power of his dimples from my resolve, I decided the sooner he was done with me–I mean, the car–the sooner I could leave, get home, take a cold shower and then make an appointment at the hospital to check my brain.

  Things were going well. Men always seem to crumble when they hear the word ‘vagina’. It’s a woman’s secret weapon. Shut his cocky mouth for a short while. I was taming the evil, sex-god wizard. But then he attempted to use his show-stopping grin to win his argument.

  It nearly worked.

  You know those times when it's better to hold back and wait for a moment when you really have something clever to say? Well, I didn’t listen to that rule. Don’t call me babe… I can be such a tool sometimes…

  He did sound a little impressed that I had correctly diagnosed Indie’s problem so early. Men just never could get their heads around the idea of a girl who knew cars at all. Usually that pissed me off, but I thought that Jake's surprise was pretty cute. For one thing, he was much cooler about it than most–surprised but willing to believe. For another, well, he was pretty damn sexy himself.

  I felt like I was taking back control of my resolve at this point. It didn’t last long. It turned out: The evil, sex-god wizard had a secret weapon. As he headed towards Indie, his ripened buttocks called to me. It was so high; I could eat off of it. It was so round and firm; I had to fight the desire to molest it with my hands. It was one of those things you see in real life and you can’t take your eyes off from it, because you can’t believe it exists in the real world.

  My fellow colleagues had warned me about the violence in the Ghetto. But no one had warned me of the dangers of turning into a sex criminal. I’d previously been putting off going there for two weeks because I was unsure of my safety, but I hadn’t realised I’d be the one to commit the unlawful act.

  I couldn’t stop smiling from the view. Instinct was telling me to kiss it. Instinct was telling me to read every inch of his tattoos with my tongue. Instinct was telling me to nibble my way around his tasty posterior. Instinct… "Instinct…” Yeah, I had said that out loud but I quickly saved myself. The evil sex-wizard would not let me lose it so easily.

  But then he bent over to check Indie’s interior. Don’t look. Don’t look… Too late. I looked.

  He turned around so quickly and by his cocky expression, he knew I’d been scanning his incredible buttocks. Heat prickled so tightly on my cheeks, I swear I can still feel them burn.

  His smug and arrogant confidence had annoyed me but then the unexpected happen. It was strange when I’d told him I’d inherited Indie when my father had passed away. For a moment, he seemed to let down his presumptuous, cocksure façade with me. His eyes looked so… compassionate and gentle, despite his obvious, hard, bad boy exterior.

  And then I’d mentioned my husband. I don’t know why. It just slipped out. I didn’t mean to. I didn’t want to. I think it was the guilt. Like I was betraying my late husband because the mechanic was making me think of sex in bad places.

  It hurt talking about Jon. It brought back all the pain. I wanted to leave the garage then. It wasn’t fun or worthwhile anymore. I felt stupid for some reason. But then he apologized and the tenderness I caught in his eyes made me feel like he had suffered the same sorrow. I felt for a fleeting moment we had a connection. His eyes had fallen away from me… maybe he wasn’t as offensive and obnoxious as I thought… maybe there was something more to him than he let on.

  I don’t know why, but I missed seeing those sexy dimples that had only gone for a short while. So I smiled, willing them to return. And, just like that, they came back. Thinking about it now was giving me goose bumps. That connection we had… It made me feel… okay again, inside.

  When our hands touched for the very first time in his office, all the
nerve endings that had laid dormant in my body sparked up simultaneously. My body felt like a thousand fireworks were setting off. As our hands stayed there for what seemed like eternity, it just felt… right.

  “That’s what all the ladies tell me…” He’d reminded me he was too sure of himself, and most likely was a top player in his world. My goodbye had left him with the knowledge that his charm wouldn’t work on me. I’d pulled down my glasses, because they made me look cool, and had headed towards the cab. I’d get in, leave and would take a cold shower at home, washing away any madness left in my system. I’d never think about Jake, the sexy evil wizard ever again. Good plan… but…

  When I walked away from him, something had bothered me. I can’t explain it, but I didn’t want him to be out of my life so quickly. It saddened me that I may never see him again. He was the first guy to catch my attention. He was exciting. He made me feel… alive. I needed him in my life. I don't know why. It was just… instinct.

  I hadn't flirted with anyone since Jon died. I wasn't into the martyr-widow thing–it wasn't that. I just hadn't really regarded or even thought about other men.

  Maybe it was because I still lived in the house I’d shared with my husband. Maybe it was because of what happened with... well, there were lots of maybes. But I still felt married, and I figured that was the way it was going to be–which was fine with me. Or it had been.

  Though I was admittedly a little rusty, it was obvious there'd been some flirting–or at least some interest–going on between us. It had been so long since I had a sexual desire for a man. Jon had been sick for a few years and our marriage hadn't been physical like that for a while.

  I’d been sixteen-years-old when I’d married Jon. At times I felt I had grown up too quickly. I just wanted to feel alive. To live. Really live. To experience something naughty, exciting and dangerous was what I wanted. It was what I needed. The time was perfect.

  Jake fulfilled all my fantasies. I had always had a thing for bad boy bikers. John Stamos in Born to Ride had been a secret fantasy of mine. He’d been my first crush. He’d also been a mechanic. Maybe it was a way for me to try and get back to a time before I hit rock bottom.

  I loved my fast vehicles. I loved a manly man. To have them together sent shivers to every inch of my body and I thought of Jake taking me on his bike as the engine roared underneath me.

  My heart had raced double time when I turned around away from the cab. I headed back trying my hardest to look confident, but my legs had shaken with each step. I’m surprised I didn’t buckle over.

  In that moment, I knew I had lost it. Finally, the years of crap had come to blows. Right there. Right then. In the Ghetto. In the garage. This was my end: The mechanic with his sex-god powers killed Dakota Demonte in the garage.

  I was now feeling really anxious about having asked him to check out Jon's shovelhead–to the point that I almost regretted it. It seemed lame in retrospect. The biker version of inviting someone up to "see me etchings" or whatever. I really did want him to look over the bike, but I had to be honest, at least to myself–I'd had ulterior motives, too. I knew I was walking into dangerous territory, but I wasn’t thinking. I was fed up of being the good girl. I was having fun for once. Life owed me that at least.

  He hadn't said anything about the shovelhead when he called last night to tell me that yes, indeed, Indie’s timing chain was compromised and he'd have to keep the car overnight before he could work on it.

  So now I was waiting for him to call when Indie was ready–and trying to work and not think of lean, hunky biker mechanics with gorgeous hair and inked muscles. And also trying not to mentally beat myself bloody for behaving like an overly excited schoolgirl. I pushed the chair back from my desk and moved to the kitchen. I needed a cold beer.

  I was standing at the kitchen counter taking a long pull from the bottle when my phone interjected. It was him. My heart raced instantly. "Hello?"

  "Dakota? It's Jake at Auto-Fire." I didn't like that he added that last part–if he thought he needed to clarify how we knew each other, it probably meant that I hadn't made the same kind of impression he had. It hurt more than I wanted it to.

  "Yeah. Hi, Jake. Indie ready?"

  "She is”–God, he wouldn’t let that go. Stubborn bastard–“Replaced the timing chain. You looked like a girl who loved a good wash and wax so I had the boys give it some attention afterwards. Hope that's okay."

  My legs shuddered slightly at his teasing, and I felt a little hotter than I had been. "You know me so well… But thanks, Jake. I'll drop in as soon as I can arrange a lift."

  There was a longish pause on his end. I was beginning to think the call had been dropped–bloody Shadowbeach reception–when he said, "Well, if getting a ride is a hassle, I could pick you up… if, uh, you don't mind riding behind me back to the garage."

  I hadn't been on a bike since Jon had become too sick to ride. I'd loved it. I missed it. But it was all bound up in my memories of Jon. And yet, I realized how besotted I already was with Jake when my head started spinning out fantasy scenarios. The idea of straddling his bike, feeling him nested between my legs and arms, the engine thrumming deeply under me... I felt a spasm deep down and closed me eyes.

  Chill out, woman. What the hell? "Wow, I don't mind at all. It would be a big help, actually. You sure your bike can handle me?" I couldn’t help myself. I saw the lion’s mouth and there was no stopping me from going inside. Even if it was just one, hot, unattached steamy night, I wanted to experience my fantasy. I wanted him.

  "I’m pretty sure me and my bike can handle you, gorgeous. No trouble at all. I could come over around five, if that works for you." There was another pause. "If you want, I could take a look at the shovelhead while I'm there."

  "Oh, Jake, thank you. That would be brilliant. You have my address, right?"

  "Yep, it's on your paperwork. Okay. See you real soon, Dakota."

  "Bye, Jake. And thanks again, really." As I headed straight to my closet,

  I regretted not doing a P.H.D in the Karma Sutra book. This time I’d get the outfit just right. He wouldn’t be able to resist.

  Chapter Three

  Jake

  I spent the rest of the afternoon tinkering with the panhead and watching the clock. It was really quiet at Auto-Fire, on all fronts. Most of everybody was off doing our thing, whatever it was. I could have picked Dakota up at any time. I put it off until 5:00 PM because–well, why the hell had I put it off?

  Though I hadn't fully understood what I was doing at the time, I eventually realized that I'd put it off because she had affected me like no other girl had. She was… she was simply sweet and light. I was a not so simple dark and heavy. The total opposites. She was like forbidden fruit. But that just made me want to fuck her more than what was normal.

  I always held dominance when I was with other girls. Groupies were all giggles, beer and sex. With her… my influence seemed to slip away without my say.

  I was acting like a fucking teenager.

  Between being with Tina and then being without her, it had been a lot of years since I'd had anything deep with anyone. I had been a one-woman kind of guy when I met Tina, no matter what–home, on the road, anywhere.

  She had been killed during a rival gang attack on Fire Bird’s turf, and I blamed myself for her death. So, I immersed myself into one-night stands with bird feeders. No challenge, no connection, no commitment. It gave me the assurance of: No loss, no hurt. Groupies knew what they were getting themselves into. Girls like Tina and Dakota, didn’t.

  With a woman like Dakota, who hadn’t been touched by the hell-fire that came with biker gang life, I knew I couldn’t act on my fantasies with her. She was smokin’ hot and so different to any girl I had ever been with. Hell, she knew her stuff when it came to classic cars and bikes–my passion. And the agony I caught sight of in her eyes connected me to her like a moth to the flame. She too, like me, had suffered the same loss.

  I thought I'd felt some inter
est coming from Dakota, too. I had no idea what I thought or expected would happen when I got to her house. I wasn't even sure what I wanted to happen, really, except that I wanted to be around her. I didn't understand why I was acting like this. I didn't even know the girl. Somehow, though, it felt like I did.

  I stood up and looked at the clock again: 4:17 PM. Okay. I packed up my tools and nodded to my fellow mechanics, who were on the clock until closing. I crossed the lot to the clubhouse. When I reached the apartment, the squalid little room I'd been crashing in lately, I took a quick shower and changed into a pair of clean jeans. I pulled on my boots and slid on a fitted black T-shirt over my head. My hair was still wet, so instead of wearing the beanie I usually wore, I left it messy on top. I started to pick my rings up off a shelf, considered for a short while before putting us back down.

  I didn't want to get there too early, so I figured I still had a couple of minutes. I called Tina's mom and asked to speak to my daughter. Yeah, I had a kid, but I'd sent her to Southern California to live with her grandma a few months after Tina died. After she had been so brutally killed… I knew I had to get my kid as far away from this life as I could.

  Then I had been sent to prison a year later… I wasn't a good father–that wasn't self-pity, that was just fact. I loved my daughter deeply, but I had missed so many years with her, and I had not been able to connect with her since I got out a year ago.

  Without Tina, and with me fully back in the Fire Birds–despite gang life being the reason my girlfriend was killed–the distance between my daughter and me was a chasm I couldn't cross. There was no safe place in my life for children. I wanted her away from everything dark. Away from… me.

  But still I called a couple of times a week, and tonight I really wanted to talk to her. She was six-years-old now but she didn't really want to talk to me, however, and after a strained ten-minute call, I told her I loved her and hung up.