by London Casey
“I wasn’t kidding about firing you,” Tate called out as Prick shut the door.
“You couldn’t live without him,” I said.
“You say that again and I’ll fire you next,” Tate said. He gave me the sketch back. “But seriously, Z, that drawing is great. Whoever this goes on is going to be a happy person.”
I put the sketch down on a folder of other sketches. “I’ve been working on this for hours. I need to clear my head. I can’t fall in love with it when it’s not done yet.”
“What’s not done?”
“I don’t know. I like to ride after I draw. Clear my thoughts and shit. Then come back and look with fresh eyes. Gives me a better perspective. When you’re in the moment, you feel too attached. You look beyond the flaws. You know?’
Tate nodded. “In some fucked-up way, you’re a genius, Z. I hope you know that. I don’t quite get your deal and why you’re okay just chilling here.”
“No commitment,” I said.
“Right. Well, if you’re hitting it, there’s a great strip club in the next town over. I’ll spot you a little afternoon release. You’ve been killing it here.”
“Thanks for the offer,” I said. “I think the road will do just fine. Two wheels and my mind. Freedom.”
“That outlaw bullshit?” Tate asked with a grin.
There was a time in my life when I had been patched in with a motorcycle club down outside Pasadena. That felt like a lifetime ago, though. It was hard to get and harder to get out of. Kind of like falling in love with the wrong woman. That shit almost cost me my fucking life.
“All that outlaw bullshit,” I said back to Tate. “I just need to fade into the horizon for a bit.”
“Fucking hippie,” Tate said.
“How many motorcycles do you own?”
“Anytime I ride, there’s a woman sitting bitch, playing with my dick.”
“Great visual there, boss,” I said.
Tate gave a nod. “Hey, I know the owner of that strip club. You want to fade into the horizon? Trust me: top to bottom, over there is something nice. And they have an upstairs area for couples only. I’ll make sure you’re a couples only for an hour.”
“Only an hour?” I asked. “Can’t hang, huh, boss?”
Tate laughed out loud.
I grabbed my leather jacket and walked out the back of St. Skin. My motorcycle was waiting for me. She was goddamn beautiful and she never let me down. She didn’t say hurtful shit back to me. She didn’t do hurtful things to me. She didn’t fuck with my head and my heart. She didn’t leave me wondering what the fuck had happened in my life. She was loyal to me and I was loyal to her. She was the only thing I rode with a committed passion.
And nothing was going to fucking change that. Not again.
At least that’s what I told myself.
I started to ride and I didn’t stop. I ended up going long beyond what I thought. I was outside of Hundred Falls Valley in no time and just kept going. I settled on this long stretch of road that was so flat, smooth, and straight, I didn’t have to think to ride. And my mind cleared itself out. I wasn’t thinking about the tattoo. I wasn’t thinking about St. Skin. I wasn’t thinking about Miami either. And I finally wasn’t thinking about the fucking wedding invitation I had stuffed into a drawer back at my place. The wedding invitation that caught me off guard. The wedding invitation that I kept hiding in my apartment until it became something like a curse so I moved it to my drawer at the shop. But it weighed on me even more so I took it back home. I just couldn’t throw the fucking thing out.
My one weakness.
That fucking wedding invitation.
Now it was burning its way back into my mind.
Why the fuck would she invite me to her wedding? Was it some kind of proof to show me that her fucking decisions had somehow paid off in life? And I was supposed to just show up? Fuck that, right? I told myself I wouldn’t be caught dead at her wedding. Even if she called me, texted me, and sent a second invitation. Hell, it wasn’t even just an invitation that came. It didn’t give the option to say no. Like she had this one custom made just for me. And I wanted that chance to say no. To say fuck off, woman, you got your piece of me, now stay the hell away.
Thinking about that shit had me throttling my ride and picking up some serious speed. There was something about being pissed off and riding faster. And picking up speed. Tempting fate. We called it giving the finger to the reaper. Always wondering when he was going to strike. Most of it was bullshit, though. I was happy to be away from that life, even if I wasn’t happy about how or why it all went down the way it did.
I started to ease off my ride a little, calming down, coming toward a small hill. It was the first change in the road for miles. See, I wasn’t from Hundred Falls Valley. I sort of just stumbled my way into town. I met Tate through a friend of a friend and he saw some of my work and wanted me to work for him. I declined so he offered me a chance to just work as I wanted. Bring in business and split the cut. Sort of like having my own shop to a point. It was better than getting piss drunk every day and night and waking up with regret and a headache.
So I took my place at St. Skin, coming and going as I pleased. Then again, that’s how the shop always functioned. All the guys were able to come and go. Tate kept things free and easy, which was pretty cool.
The horizon lowered into the ground and then pulled back up. The road continued for what looked like hundreds of miles. It was really an amazing sight. A real sense of freedom there. But then something caught my eye. There was a car on the side of the road.
I wasn’t really the giving type. I wasn’t a damn charity and I wasn’t anyone’s fucking savior. As I got closer to the car, I saw a woman sitting on the hood, smoking a cigarette. I could see the smoke rising up into the air. She wasn’t even looking back at me. For all I knew, she wasn’t even broken down. Maybe she just needed a break from reality, like me.
Intrigued, I slowed and pulled to the side of the road. Going against everything I told myself to do as though that would pay off in some way. In the old days, I would be looking for a set up. Someone waiting to ambush me, start some trouble, hell, maybe even this woman would turn over and pull a gun. Funny how little things like that would set your mind back in time, thinking about when enemies and demons collided together.
As crazy as my life had been, that fucking wedding invitation burned me even more.
I killed the engine on my ride and climbed off.
I reached into my leather jacket and took out a smoke of my own. I walked along the side of the car, the woman still not even giving me the time of day to turn around and acknowledge my existence.
What the fuck is with this one?
I got up to the hood of the car. “Hey, darlin’, you got a light?”
That’s when she finally looked at me. I was smirking like an asshole. Her eyes were the most beautiful brown color I’d ever seen in my life. They were also full of tears. A few of those tears were streaming down her cheeks.
Oh shit.
Before I could say anything else, she handed me a lighter.
And then she looked straight ahead again.
Silently telling me to fuck off.
Maybe that was the moment I started to fall in love with her.
3
BELLA
He popped his head out from under the hood of my car and stared at me for a few seconds. His face was almost too perfect, yet almost too rough. His eyes were squinting, like he was trying to read me. I knew how to keep myself under control so I just stood there like I didn’t care. To a point, I really didn’t care, but what this guy didn’t know was that on the inside I was completely collapsing.
Being alone for however long it was, smoking cigarette after cigarette, everything really hit me. Strangely enough, I wanted to be alone, and I was alone, but then being alone made me hate being alone. I felt like I was going to be alone for the rest of my life. Because I had given so much to Parker. So much time. Care.
My love.
My mind suddenly shifted gears as this guy kept looking at me.
So I studied him.
Why not?
He was definitely something to look at.
There was a little scruff on his face, just enough to be visible but nothing crazy. His dark eyes matched his dark hair. He had the kind of eyes and stare that told a story. When he stood all the way up, he was a hell of a lot taller than me and his shoulders seemed like they were the length of my car. His plain black t-shirt did no justice to the muscles that seemed to be aching to rip through. But trust me, there was plenty of muscle showing on the visible skin. Well, his skin wasn’t exactly visible. He was tattooed from his wrists to where the tight sleeves of his t-shirt swallowed his arms.
I tried really hard not to eye-hump him, but come on, it was impossible not to. I needed it. I deserved it. My heart was broken and my body, heart, and mind were in total rebound mode. Then, in a sick and twisted way I suddenly saw myself marrying this tattooed hunk just to flaunt him around someone else for fun. I tried to imagine Parker’s face if I brought this guy around. Parker was totally short, skinny, classically good looking. Nothing like this guy. This guy was built from living life. Definitely not some pretty boy at all.
Rough and tough, which wasn’t the worst thing for me at that moment.
I swallowed hard, trying to chase away some thoughts and collect some others.
“What’s the verdict?” I asked.
“I don’t know, darlin’,” he said. “I don’t have any tools with me. I’m just looking for anything obvious.”
“I usually just pour water. That’s what I was told to do. Always does the trick.”
“Where do you pour the water?”
“The engine, or something…”
He smirked. Little dimples formed on the edge of his scruff. “I take it you don’t have any water with you?”
“I normally do.”
“But today you don’t.”
“The container of water had a hole in it.”
“Shit. You’re having a bad day, huh?”
“You have no idea,” I muttered.
“I’ll make a call then. Get you all fixed up and on your way.”
“Fixed up,” I said. “Right. And you are…?”
He wiped his big hands on his jeans, leaving some black streaks. He was sexy and dirty.
Just the way I was craving it…
Before I knew it, my hand was attached to his in a handshake.
“Zayne,” he said.
“Bella,” I said.
“Beautiful.”
“What?” I asked.
“Your name. Doesn’t it mean beautiful?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “Maybe. Why?”
“I’m pretty sure it does.”
“So you’re a language expert who rides a motorcycle?” I asked. “Trying to look cool and tough but you can’t fix my car, huh?”
I was flirting. And I didn’t care. I liked it.
Zayne took his hand back. “Wow. Taking a shot at the only person out here who can save your ass.”
“Who said my ass wants to be saved?”
“So you’re going to just hang here and…”
“That’s my business,” I said.
“Right. Well, it was a pleasure to meet you, darlin’. Or should I say, beautiful?”
He took a step and I grabbed for his arm. My fingers touching his bare skin. Touching the muscle of his forearm. Touching the ink that buried itself into his skin.
“Wait. Sorry. I…”
“It’s okay,” he whispered. “I’m just fucking around.”
I nodded. “Your name. Zayne. What does it mean?”
“How the hell should I know?” he asked with a grin that made my knees want to call it quits. “It’s a name.”
“Just like mine,” I said.
“Need a smoke?” he asked.
“I’m good for now,” I said. “Had one too many as it is. They’re not good for you, Zayne.”
“The best things in life aren’t.”
He was so smooth. He was so cool.
“I, uh, was just heading out on a little trip,” I said, stumbling around words like I was drunk. “I didn’t expect my car to break down.”
“That’s a lie,” he said.
“Excuse me?”
“You keep a thing of water in the trunk. So this happens all the time, right?”
“Not all the time, but yeah, it’s happened before.”
“So you knew there was a chance.”
“Fine. Sure.”
“Which means going somewhere is a risk. So wherever you’re going you were willing to take that risk.”
This guy was calling me the hell out. He was reading me with ease.
I started to shake my head. Like I wanted to deny what he was saying. But he had my number. If I had been taking a planned-out trip I would have had my car looked over. Or maybe even rented a car to ensure I wouldn’t deal with something breaking down.
“That’s why I ride a motorcycle,” he said.
“What? Your motorcycle never breaks down?”
“Hasn’t let me down once,” Zayne said.
He looked over his shoulder at his ride.
We were too close to one another, thanks to the handshake we had as we introduced ourselves properly. Although, anything proper here seemed to be long lost. He’d rolled up on me as I was smoking and crying on the hood of my car.
There was a pause of silence and I feared he was going to keep cutting into me. I had no desire to tell Zayne what I was doing, or why.
“I like your tattoos,” I blurted out like a damn fool.
Zayne looked down at his arms and then back up at me. He knew exactly what I was trying to do. A small smile crept along his sexy face.
Then without missing a beat, he said, “Thanks. I better go make that call.”
Zayne winked at me and reached for his pocket. He took out a phone and walked away a few steps. I leaned against my car, trying to look cool (for whatever reason), and started to think about what exactly had just happened in the last hour of my life. The one thing that jumped out was from the second I heard Zayne’s motorcycle approaching, everything bad that happened faded away. For a little while, I forgot about it all.
The sounds of them together. The sight of them together. Standing there, stomach sick, watching her grab for her clothes. Not really prepared for that particular situation and what I was supposed to do. Spending too much time watching way too much of them.
“Hey, Gonzo. It’s Zayne.”
That brought my attention back to reality.
Gonzo?
I tilted my head.
Wasn’t that someone from a kids show or something?
“I’m a little stuck here,” Zayne said. “Way out here, man. I need a tow. Nah, not the ride. That thing never lets me down.” Zayne looked back at me, half smirking. “A car. Yeah, I said a car. No, it’s not my car, though. It’s, uh, a friend of mine. She broke down. Okay. Yeah. Sounds good. Thank you. Just take the main out of Hundred Falls Valley and keep going until you find me. Oh, you’re sending Robby out. Got it. We’ll be here. See you soon.”
Zayne ended the call.
He turned all the way around to face me. He leaned against my car, his right elbow on the roof. He made sexy and cool so smooth.
“Gonzo?” I asked.
“He’s a good guy. Owns the garage in town. He’ll get you back on the road.”
“Right. So you can’t fix it, huh?”
“I don’t work on cars,” Zayne said.
“Then what do you do?”
“Tattoos, darlin’.”
Oh. Shit.
So this hunk was built like stone, inked up, and was a tattoo artist himself. Could he get any hotter?
I bit my tongue as I watched him pull out a cigarette and stick it between his lips. He lit it, bowing his head a little, his eyes looking at me. He was smoldering with sex. It just radiat
ed from him. I was happy to be leaning against my car because I felt like I was going to pass out or something.
“We probably have about twenty minutes or so to kill,” Zayne said. “So… where were you heading to?”
No. No. No.
“Somewhere,” I said.
“Somewhere,” he said.
“Nowhere,” I said. “I mean, I was just… driving.”
Zayne nodded. He took a drag and blew smoke. The gentle breeze that helped to keep me semi-cool took the smoke and swirled it into the air.
He looked so cool. So hot, too. The kind of guy that would make people want to smoke because he made it look so good. And that made him so damn bad.
He was totally rebound-worthy, that thought still pinging at my mind. I could imagine him chasing away everything with his hands. His mouth. His lips and tongue. And not just for a little while either. Maybe hours. Maybe enough to make it go away for good.
I was standing there, eye-humping like crazy.
“Just driving,” he said. “I respect that. That’s what I was doing. The road opens things up, you know?”
“Yeah, right.”
I folded my arms and looked away from him.
“So my car is getting towed into town?” I asked.
“Yeah. Gonzo will take a look and figure it out. Is there somewhere you need to be? I could give you a ride…”
“Actually, I have nowhere to go. Nowhere to be.”
Zayne took the cigarette from his mouth and flicked it as far as he could. He stepped toward me, smoke blowing out of his mouth. He stopped with just a foot between us. He was like a giant as he towered over me.
“You’re broken down on the side of the road, nowhere to go, crying on the hood of your car. You’re every guy’s nightmare, darlin’.”
“Then you better run,” I said. “Things could get really scary.”
Zayne grinned again. He reached for my face, gently touching my chin. “I can handle scary. I’m not sure you can handle me.”
I played the game and I reached up and pulled his hand off my chin.
“How about one of those smokes?” I asked.
Zayne didn’t give me an inch to breathe as he got one for me.
It was hotter between us than it was outside.
And that was serious trouble.
4
