BAD BOY ROMANCE: DIESEL: Contemporary Bad Boy Biker MC Romance (Box Set) (New Adult Sports Romance Short Stories Boxset)

by Parker, Kylee

  “So there’s something I want to run by you,” Megan said casually. “And I hope you’re not pissed.”

  I rolled my eyes. “That sounds like a great start,” I replied. “I don’t have high hopes about this.”

  “This is serious, Leeds,” Megan said. She reached across the console of the car and squeezed my knee. “I wouldn’t feel right doing it without your approval.”

  My stomach did a flip-flop. “Spill,” I said. “You’re making me nervous.”

  “Tyler and I had a long talk and we both decided to sleep with someone else before we get married,” Megan explained. “It can’t be a fling or anything but just one night, or the equivalent, but we both want to do it.”

  I rolled my eyes. “You guys are so New Age and weird,” I commented. “You know I don’t care who you sleep with.” I narrowed my eyes. “But you shouldn’t do this if it’s going to make you crazy and drive you nuts. You know how jealous you can get.”

  Megan patted my knee again and laughed. “I’m totally over that,” she gushed. “But I want to sleep with Stratton. Do you mind? He’s so sexy!”

  I gaped at her. “What did you just say? Why Stratton? Why not some random guy at a bar? Does it have to be Stratton?”

  Megan gave me a strange look. ‘This is exactly why I wanted to talk to you,” she said. “I knew you wouldn’t get it. What’s with you, anyway? Why do you care who he sleeps with?”

  “I don’t,” I said quickly.

  Megan frowned. “Bullshit,” she replied. “You told me that he’s been really good and that he hasn’t been bringing girls home at all. What difference does it make if I hang out with him one night?”

  “Just don’t,” I pleaded. “Don’t you think it would make things awkward for you and Tyler? You’ll still see Stratton around after you sleep together, you know,” I added. “Plus it makes me feel weird.”

  “You have problems, Leda,” Megan said smoothly. She shifted her car into a higher gear and pressed the pedal to the floor. “But if it really bothers you, I’ll find someone else.”

  Gratitude washed over me in a haze. “Thanks,” I said shortly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be unsupportive.”

  Megan laughed. “You’re almost always unsupportive,” she said. “That’s one of the reasons why I love you. You’re like my sister.”

  I smiled. At least we knew each other well enough where it was going to be a huge issue. Still, I couldn’t shake the bad feeling in my stomach as we pulled up to the house. There was an unfamiliar car in the driveway and the porch light was on. I could see moths swarming around it and furrowed my brow. We never left that light on; it was kind of a joke among the housemates. During break my first year of grad school, I’d left it on and it had started a little fire. Since then, we kept the switch taped down.

  “Your house looks different,” Megan observed. “Sweet car, though.” She swept her gaze over the hunter green Jaguar coupe in the driveway. “Did Stratton hit the lottery?”

  I shook my head. “He can’t drive here,” I explained. “Remember?”

  “Those aren’t the kinds of things I remember about Stratton,” Megan said with a sly look on her face. “Want me to come in and hang out for a while?”

  “Nah,” I said, getting out of the car. “I’m good. It was fun to hang, though. I liked those gowns. I thought the saleswoman was going to strangle you for trying on everything without paying, though.”

  Megan laughed. “I’m picky,” she said, pouting. “What do they want from me?”

  We hugged and I hopped onto the pavement. Everything smelled damp; it had been raining for days and days without end. Slowly, I made my way up the front steps. There were voices coming from inside, and they didn’t sound happy.

  With a deep breath, I opened the front door. There was a well-dressed middle aged woman with blonde hair that I’d never seen before, screaming at Stratton. She was so angry that I could almost understand everything she was saying even though she was speaking in German. Shit.

  Stratton saw me and the panic reflected on his face. He jerked his head and I started sneaking down the hallway.

  “Not so fast!” The woman roared, switching to English. She grabbed me by the shoulder with surprising strength and dragged me back into the foyer. “Who is this, Stratton?”

  Stratton looked at me and mouthed ‘I’m sorry’ before turning to the woman and saying: “She’s my housemate, Leda. Leave her alone, Mother.”

  “Fat chance,” the woman sneered. She dragged me closer. I was standing so near to her that I could smell her perfume—a heavy wave of musk and amber—and see the pulse pounding in Stratton’s throat. “Who is she, really?”

  Stratton shook his head. Stepping forward, I wrenched the woman’s hand off my shoulder. “I’m Leda,” I said forcefully. “I’m married to your son.”

  The slap across my face was more than I was expecting and I winced and dropped to my knees. Stratton was instantly at my side. “Leda, I’m so sorry,” he whispered. “Go to your room and stay out of this, okay? I’ll handle her.”

  “You haven’t done a great job of that so far,” I spat, standing up and eyeing the woman. When I drew myself up to my full height, I had a few inches on her. She had the same piercing eyes as her son and traces of his bone structure in her round face. That was where the resemblance ended, however; unlike Stratton, she was short, squat, and red in the face. The fat was separating from the bone on her arms, giving her the appearance of having chicken wings instead of human limbs. And much like a provoked bird, she looked mean.

  “You don’t deserve to be with my son,” she said to me in a calm voice. “You should relinquish your hold on him immediately.”

  I snorted. “Are you kidding me? Do you know what a prick he can be sometimes?” Stratton shot me a wounded look and I shrugged. “He’s notorious around here,” I told her. “And really, you don’t get to have a say in that part of his life. He’s an adult,” I said. Stratton’s mother looked like I had slapped her.

  “He is still my son,” she said stiffly. “What part of that you don’t understand?”

  I laughed. “So what, my parents are still my parents. They don’t get to make decisions about my life. It doesn’t work like that after you turn eighteen, sorry.”

  She came closer to me and again, I was flooded with her awful perfume. “Maybe in this country,” she said loudly, shaking a fist at me. “But in Germany, we respect our elders. Stratton knew better than to get involved with a whore like you.”

  “I’m not a whore,” I said icily. Stratton raised his eyebrows at me over his mother’s back. “And you can’t speak to my husband that way. This is our home, and you’re not welcome here.”

  Stratton’s mother laughed. “Good thing I am not flying out until next week,” she replied. “I will be staying here until then.”

  “Nope, sorry, Mom,” Stratton said. “We don’t have space for a guest. I’ll call a cab and get you to a hotel instead.”

  Stratton’s mother looked like she was going to throw her son through the window. I winced as she stepped closer but Stratton put a hand firmly on her shoulder and guided her through the front door. Automatically, I reached into my bag and grabbed my phone. After I’d called a cab for her, I joined the two of them on the porch.

  “Mrs. Müller, I’ve called you a cab,” I told her. “You can either go back to the airport or to a hotel. You’re not welcome here again unless Stratton invites you inside.” She looked at me with shock on her face. “Have a good trip,” I told her enthusiastically, stepping back inside.

  When I was alone, I could feel my heart pounding through my chest. I felt a wave of shock and horror when I thought about how I’d talked to her. I’d never treated an adult like that in my life. But she was something else. I knew how hard Stratton had worked to get out from under her thumb; I’d be damned if I was going to let him cave to her now. It didn’t make any sense: why did she care so much about who her son was with?

  Back w
hen Matthew and I were together, my mother used to warn me about getting married before we finished school. I knew that she hadn’t always liked Matthew, but she’d never said anything of the kind to me. Most of the parents I knew wouldn’t dream of interfering in their lives the way Stratton’s mother had with his. It made me sad for him, and simultaneously proud that he’d managed to succeed as much as he had.

  When Stratton came back inside, he knocked on my door. “Come in,” I called, dreading a lecture. I knew that even though his mother was a pest, he couldn’t have been happy with the way I’d treated her.

  “That was pretty incredible,” he said slowly. “You were amazing, Leda,” Stratton said. “I can’t believe you stood up to her like that.”

  I narrowed my eyes at him. “Well I can’t believe she barged in our house like that,” I replied. “Did you even know she was coming?”

  Stratton shook his head. “I got home from soccer practice and there she was,” he told me. “I can’t believe she did that. That was one step too far. I should have known it would happen after the email.”

  “What email?” I looked at him. “What happened? Did she threaten you?”

  Stratton rolled his eyes. He pushed a hand through his tangle of brown hair and flopped down on my bed, sending the pillows flying. “She emailed me a few days ago,” he said, covering his face with his eyes. “And I was angry and told her to stay out of my life. This was apparently her way of retaliating.”

  I almost laughed. “I mean, what does she think she’s going to accomplish?” I asked. “You’re an adult. She can’t force you to do anything. Just tell her no.”

  Stratton peeked at me through his fingers. “That’s easy for you to say,” he scoffed. “She’s always been tough on me and Suzan. She likes to think that because she created us, she has a say in everything we do.”

  “That’s ridiculous,” I replied. “She should know better than that.”

  Stratton shrugged. “I know Germany is progressive, but in some ways, it’s not like here. My sister and I were always expected to do what our parents wanted for us. Because I broke with them, they’ve been angry with me ever since.”

  “I can’t imagine that,” I said honestly. “So you told your sister that we got married?”

  Stratton wrinkled his nose. “I was hoping to get away with that,” he said, grinning at me. “Yeah, I did. I’m sorry, Leda. I had no idea she would tell our mother. Suzan and Miriam have been friends for a long time and she kept asking me questions about what I was doing in this country. It was the only way to get her off my back.”

  The air whooshed out of me like I’d been punched in the gut. “And you just went along with it? You couldn’t lie?”

  Stratton shook his head. “I really am sorry, Leda. I had no idea this would happen, honestly. Suzan’s always been trustworthy. Obviously, I’m never going to share anything with her ever again.”

  “It’s fine,” I lied. “You did what you had to do.”

  “No one else will find out,” Stratton promised me. “I swear, Leda.”

  “What about Miriam? Wouldn’t Suzan tell her, if they’re as close as you say?”

  He shrugged. “He might, but who cares? She doesn’t even know where I live now, Leda. She’s not going to tell anyone. I promise, no one that we know here will find out.” He held out his pinky to me and I smiled. Something about the gesture was endearing and cute. We shook on it and I laughed nervously.

  “Sorry, this is just kind of a lot,” I admitted. “I can’t wait for our trip.”

  Stratton grinned again, for real this time. “I’m so excited,” he said. “Thank you again. That was a really awesome present, Leda.” He leaned forward and kissed me on the cheek. “I can’t wait to get away from Ursula and go skiing with my wife.”

  I blushed when he said ‘wife.’ “Ursula?” I wrinkled my nose. “Really?”

  Stratton laughed. “Yep,” he said. “That’s my mother.”

  There was a buzzing sound and Stratton looked at his desk. When he saw that it was his phone, he made a face. “Answer it,” I said. “What if it’s Ursula and she wants to apologize?”

  Stratton laughed; we both knew how unlikely that would be. “I doubt it,” he said as he reached over and swiped the device on. “I don’t recognize this number,” Stratton said under his breath, more to himself than me. “I have no clue who this is.”

  “They sent you a picture,” I pointed out. “Maybe it’s one of those promotional things where you can get a free burrito if you show up with that on your phone.”

  Stratton held his phone angled away from me so I couldn’t see the screen. I watched as all of the blood drained from his face.

  “Stratton,” I said quietly. “What is it? Did something happen?”

  He bit his lip. “I’m not sure I should show you this,” he said in wary voice. “But I have a feeling that if I don’t, you’ll find out anyway.”

  My heart started thudding in my chest like a caged animal. “What?” I demanded. “Show me what?”

  Stratton held up the phone so I could see. The picture was of a naked blonde girl, sitting cross-legged on a desk. She wore a grin and some red lipstick on her chest in a language that I couldn’t read. I backed away as though I’d been slapped.

  “What the fuck, Stratton,” I hissed. “Who is that?”

  Stratton looked at me and tossed the phone aside. “That’s Miriam,” he said in a dull voice. “And she says that she misses me.”

  Angry tears came to my eyes. I knew it wasn’t Stratton’s fault, but I still felt hurt. “And what are you going to tell her?” I asked, looking away.

  Stratton put his arm around me. “Leda, I’m done with her,” he said. “She knows that. I bet anything my mom called her as soon as she left here. Don’t you understand that you’re the only person I want now?”

  I blinked and nodded, feeling foolish. “I get that,” I said slowly. “I’m sorry. It’s just weird, that’s all. Most of the time, my boyfriends’ parents always liked me.”

  Stratton chuckled, a deep-throated and pleasant sound. “I bet,” he said. “But I’m not really your boyfriend, am I?”

  Chapter Six

  Stratton

  “Fuck,” I mumbled under my breath after Leda had gone. “How am I supposed to get out of this one?” I pulled my phone out of the pocket and looked at the photo of Miriam again. She still had a tight, perfect little body – I owed her that much, at least. But her grin seemed artificially bright and the red lipstick on her chest made her look like an attraction in a side show. She’d scrawled “Ich vermisse dich” or “I miss you” right above her perky breasts. Despite the fact that I wanted nothing to do with her, I felt my mouth go dry. Shaking my head, I deleted the picture and tossed my phone on my desk.

  That night, I couldn’t sleep. I kept thinking of Leda, and Miriam, and my mother. I couldn’t understand why my mom was so hell-bent on making me unhappy. It wasn’t as though she’d liked Miriam while we were together. She’d always found her annoying and immature. But she must have reached out after Leda kicked her out of the house. Morosely, I rolled over in bed and buried my face in the pillow.

  An hour later, I was still awake. Finally I got out of bed and grabbed my laptop. I had three new emails, all from my mom. Seeing that the first and second emails were brief, I deleted them in favor of the most recent. I began to read:

  “Stratton,

  I have told Miriam your plight and she’s just as sympathetic as you could imagine her to be. Why you had to leave her years ago still confuses me; don’t you want to be with someone who cares about you?

  I may not know your friend Leda, but I wasn’t born yesterday. Stratton, she’s a typical American. She cares about no one but herself. Did you see the way she treated me? Do you want to be with someone who disrespects her elders, and furthermore, disrespects her in-laws? She should have been begging my acquaintance, like Miriam did when the two of you were together. Stratton, if you had to get involved w
ith an American whore, why couldn’t it have been an attractive one?

  Miriam knows everything, Stratton, and she’s still willing to take you back. I beg you to consider it. If the two of you are married, your father and I will pay for the entire wedding, as well as a nice vacation for the two of you. Please don’t break your mother’s heart, Stratton. You know I have my ideas that Suzan might be a lesbian; how would she give me grandchildren? You’re my only hope, Stratton, and you can’t let me down.

  Please take a moment to consider how deeply you are hurting those around you. Stratton, a little empathy would do you good at the moment. If you want to continue to break my heart as well as the heart of your father, be my guest. But please know that if you continue to act in the same way, you will no longer be welcome in our home. You will no longer enjoy our support, nor our blessings. We will be happy to be a family of three, lesbian daughter or not. Stratton, you have already disappointed me more in the past year than Suzan has done in her entire life. Can’t you see how deeply I am hurting?