I wasn’t feeling too good about this. I glanced down the road, just in case, but zero luck.
“What’s the matter?” Geneva teased. “Is this fit, strapping hockey player afraid of a few out-of-shape bikers?”
I ran my gaze down the line of bikes and back to her. “Looks like more than a few.”
“Come on, Superman, let’s go inside. I’m starved, and they have the best bacon double cheeseburgers around.”
Now she was talking. I ignored my misgivings and opened the door for her, following her inside.
The inside didn’t look much better than the outside, badly in need of paint and a good cleaning. It was dark and smelled funny, probably from decades of cigarette smoke back when smoking was allowed in bars in Washington. The tables were old and cracked, covered with faded orange Formica from the seventies. The wooden chairs had seen better days. The bar was long and metal stools with padded seats lined the entire length. Someone had patched the torn orange vinyl seats with gray duct tape.
I’d been in bars like this. I certainly wasn’t above them, but I hadn’t dressed for such a place either. As I followed Geneva across the room to an empty table, every set of male eyes in the room watched her traverse the crowded room. The women, on the other hand, eyed me like I was a rare piece of candy.
I kept my gaze on Geneva’s ass, not wanting any of those women to get the wrong idea, especially if their jealous biker boyfriends might be in close proximity. Besides, staring at her fine ass was hardly a chore.
Geneva claimed a seat at a round table for two, and I sat across from her. Either this was a test to see if being here discouraged me or this was who she was. I might not be comfortable here, but the whole biker chick thing heated me up hotter than the summer sun in Death Valley. I didn’t mind taking the good with the bad.
A saucy waitress with a large rack wandered over to us. She never took her eyes off me as she took our drink orders. Both beers. Usually I was the predator, but in here I was definitely feeling like the prey for both women who wanted to take me out back and fuck me and the men who wanted to take me out back and beat me into oblivion with a tire iron.
“Your dad hangs out in places like this?” I spoke without any censure or judgment. I wanted to get to know her. If this was part of her life, I wanted to know about it. She intrigued me, and this new layer wasn’t any deterrent.
“Yes, and so do I. Or I did. My dad repairs Harleys, mostly for an outlaw biker gang. So, while he isn’t one of them, he’s accepted by them. I grew up around guys like this.”
“I see. I’ve never had much exposure to the biker culture. I mean, I watched a few documentaries on TV, but that’s it.”
A smile tugged at the corner of her luscious mouth. I was about to say something wildly suggestive and inappropriate when a shadow crossed near us. I looked up to see a guy who made Ethan Parker’s hulking bodyguards look like pansies. He had long gray hair, a gray beard, more tattoos than visible skin, and wore a black leather vest and worn black jeans. The tats were fascinating, but I knew better than to stare for too long. The canvas on his arms, shoulders, and chest appeared to be a biker’s version of hell with multiple nasty-looking snakes wrapped around his biceps and neck.
He grabbed a chair from a nearby table, flipped it around, and sat down backward in it. “Geneva, what are you doing here?”
“I could ask you the same thing.” She winked at him. “Good to see you, Ham.”
“Just hanging with some brothers before I head back to Canuck land.” His penetrating gaze swung to me.
“This is a friend of mine and my brother’s. We were just out for a late-afternoon ride. Axel. Ham.”
I stuck out my hand, knowing I had a hard, firm handshake, which would hopefully win me a few points with this guy. He took and shook my hand so hard it was like we were in a wrestling match.
My hand was numb by the time I extracted it. I opened and closed my hand several times to get the feeling back.
He watched me, his grin feral. “You might want to go back to the city, pretty boy. We eat dudes like you for a predinner snack.”
“I can handle my own.” I narrowed my gaze and met his arrogant stare straight on. I was a hockey player. I understood the game of one-upmanship. I understood the clashing of macho egos. And I understood I was out of my league, but I’d give it a shot.
“Later, Geneva.” With a grunt, and not sparing me another glance, he heaved himself to his feet and hobbled over to a table of rowdy men. The guy was beat-up, not sure why and wasn’t going to ask.
“He’s been around the block a few times, served time in prison for multiple offenses, and he’ll fight at the drop of a hat, but I’d trust him with my life.” Geneva drew my attention back to her with those words. The waitress delivered our beers, and I took a long pull before setting it on the sticky, stained table.
“You would?”
“He’s a good friend of my dad’s. He’d die for me.”
“I see. I guess I don’t really understand the code bikers live by.”
“You don’t need to.”
“So did Jock grow up in a biker family too?”
“Oh, no, we have the same mother but different fathers. She got around a lot. She got entangled in the biker lifestyle when Jock was young. His dad was a conservative workingman. Way too boring for her. And my dad was only an outlier, he wasn’t a member of any club, so she aspired to more than that. Wanted a real biker. She eventually found one.”
“Do you ever see her?”
Geneva looked away for a moment, but not before I caught the pain in her gaze. I knew that look because I’d seen it before. In the mirror. “No. I hear about her once in a while. She was within three blocks of where I lived last year and never bothered to stop by.”
“That’s brutal.”
“It’s life, Axel. It’s not all perfect and neat and tidy. It’s usually messy, bloody, and painful. You do the best you can and deal with things as they come at you.”
“That’s all we can do.” I admired her toughness, her determination, and her try. A lot of people Geneva’s age would’ve played the victim card and wallowed in self-pity, but Geneva didn’t use her childhood as a crutch. I didn’t either, so I appreciated her attitude.
We were a lot more alike than we were different. I don’t think I’d ever spent enough time getting to know a woman like I felt I knew Geneva in such a short amount of time.
One thing I knew for sure. I wanted to know a lot more.
I glanced up as a couple scary-looking dudes walked up to our table. They weren’t staring at Geneva; they were staring at me. I shot Geneva a questioning glance, but she was studying them as if trying to decipher whether they were friend or foe.
Their expressions weren’t unfriendly. In fact, they reminded me of the expressions fans got when they realized they had a pro hockey player in their midst. I wasn’t as recognizable as many of my teammates since I was relatively new to the team and a rookie, but I did get my share of requests for autographs.
I took a chance and treated them as I would any fan. “Hey, guys, what’s up?” In my peripheral vision, Geneva opened her mouth, thought better of it, and snapped it shut.
“Hey.” The smaller of the two stepped forward, tentatively, while the larger guy fidgeted in the background. “Are you Axel Vanderbuel of the Sockeyes?”
“Yeah, that’d be me.”
“Rat and I are huge fans. We followed your career in Portland and Vancouver.”
Rat? The big guy didn’t look like a rat, more like a bear.
“Thank you,” I said graciously, then I had a wicked thought on how to get even with Geneva. “Why don’t you guys sit down and join us. I’ll buy you a beer.”
They didn’t wait for a second invitation. In fact, they scrambled so quickly to find a couple empty chairs to pull up to the table that they ran into each other several times. I watched the entire performance with amusement, purposely ignoring the annoyed glares from Geneva.
&
nbsp; The two bikers sat down, their big bodies barely fitting in the chairs. The other guy’s name was Gator. I didn’t ask how either got their names. Instead, we talked hockey, and I admired their tats. Within the next half hour, several other guys joined us, and we talked hockey and bikes. Of course, I didn’t know a damn thing about bikes, so I mostly listened.
I sat back and sipped on my beer, enjoying myself immensely. The crowded conditions at the table had forced my chair against Geneva’s to the point where our thighs rubbed, which was a blessing and a curse. Having physical contact with her felt heavenly but also increased my frustration.
Just because I wasn’t torturing myself enough, I put my arm across the back of her chair and fiddled with her hair as I spoke to these guys. She stiffened for several seconds but eventually relaxed when I rubbed the back of her neck slowly and gently.
We ate our burgers, and I played a game of pool with Rat and almost beat him, but the man was a damn pool shark who gave the appearance of not having a competitive bone in his body until he picked up the pool cue.
Then it was game on.
I thankfully shook his hand and backed away when someone else placed money on the table in order to be next to challenge the winner.
Making my way back to the table, I caught Geneva’s eyes and smiled. Taking my seat, I grinned at her. “Fun place. We should come here again sometime.”
She frowned, then much to my surprise, she let out a bark of laughter. “You played me.”
“I didn’t play you. You were playing me. I called your bluff and raised the stakes.” I leaned toward her and lowered my voice. “You underestimated me. I fit in most anywhere with any crowd. You thought I’d be floundering in a biker bar, but you didn’t count on hockey being the universal language around here.”
“You got me there,” she said with a shrug.
I was a bad winner, because I couldn’t resist a smug smile.
Chapter 20—Biker Chick
~~Geneva~~
When I’d accepted a date with Axel, I came up with the idea of taking him to a biker bar. I’d fully expected him to be a fish out of water, or would that be a Sockeye out of water? My intent had been to demonstrate how wrong we were for each other.
Instead, he surprised me at every turn.
He reveled in riding on the back of the bike, while the majority of men who weren’t bikers would be scared shitless by my driving. While he’d been awkward in the bar at first, he’d regained his stride and was like one of the guys by the time the night was over.
The joke was on me.
I wasn’t sure how I felt about that. In some ways, I was relieved he wasn’t just a pretty, rich boy who was only comfortable with his people. In others, this realization made him even more dangerous. I’d gravely miscalculated his star power, and now I was contemplating what my next move might be.
“We should be getting home before it rains,” I said.
“Sounds good.” He paid the bill before I was able to grab it, and we walked to the door. He paused to wave goodbye to all his newfound buddies and told them he’d be back soon. I didn’t wait for him. I pushed the door open, and he soon followed me to the Harley.
We didn’t talk much on our ride back to Seattle. I pulled up in front of Axel’s condo.
“Want to come in for a drink?” Axel asked hopefully.
“I don’t know. I—” I hedged as I considered my options. I really did want to go in for that drink, but did I dare?
“Kaden and Steele should be home, so don’t worry, I won’t make a move on you—yet.”
I hesitated. I really didn’t want this night to end yet. “Okay, just for a short while. I have to be at work early tomorrow morning.”
“It’s only seven thirty.”
“I have time for one drink.” I left my bike in the parking spot on the curb.
His handsome face lit up, and he grabbed my hand, leading me to the front doorway of the large building. I wasn’t sure what I expected, maybe a messy bachelor pad with beer-stained carpets and holes in the walls.
I stopped in the hallway, kicked off my boots, peeled out of my leathers down to my jeans and tank. Then I took a look around.
The place was immaculate and huge with the open concept so popular right now. On the opposite side of the room was a wall of windows looking out at Seattle and Lake Union with sliding doors and a large balcony. The furniture was sleek and modern, done in beiges and whites with dark wood floors and cabinets in the kitchen. While it was beautiful, the décor was impersonal and cold and looked like every other recently decorated place I’d been in lately. This wasn’t my kind of place, too cold, too perfect, and too neat.
“Do you actually live here?” I asked as I gazed around. The kitchen counters were a gleaming dark granite. The large U-shaped kitchen had room for four barstools on the living room side.
Axel chuckled. “Steele is obsessed with cleanliness and tidiness. If it was left up to Kaden and me, this place would be a mess.”
“Where are they?”
He shrugged. “Might be in their rooms. Maybe they went out. Not sure. It’s not my day to keep tabs on them.”
“Is this a trap?” I eyed him with mock suspicion.
“Do you want it to be?”
“Of course not.”
Axel’s pouty face made me laugh. He moved into the kitchen with his usual catlike grace, while I took a seat at the counter and watched him pour two glasses of Chardonnay from a bottle in the refrigerator.
He sat down beside me and offered me a glass. He held his up, so I did the same. We eyed each other over the rims, our gazes burning with pent-up desire.
“To a great evening with a beautiful woman.” He winked at me, and I did the unthinkable—I giggled. I never giggled. I sounded like such a girl, which I was not. I was a hardened woman who’d been around the block several times and knew how to take care of myself. I didn’t need anyone or anything, yet here I was, giggling like a teenager when the hot guy noticed her.
“To a great evening,” I said as we clinked glasses. “You sure you’ve never been on a motorcycle before?”
“Positive.”
“You were right at home.”
“That was easy to do since I had a competent driver and anywhere with you is a good place to be. After the season is over, I’m buying my own Harley, and we can spend the summer exploring the great Pacific Northwest together.”
“That’s a little premature, don’t you think? We’ve only had one date.”
“No woman can settle for just one date with me.” His grin grew mischievous. “Admit it. You expected me to be a duck out of water at the bar, and I wasn’t.”
“You were at first.”
“Yeah, well, it took time to adjust, but I did, and by the time I left, I had those bikers eating out of my hands,” he said smugly.
“Some of them. The few that were hockey fans.” I shrugged, not willing to give him that much credit, even if he was right.
“I beg to differ.”
“You can beg all you want but you’re not getting in my pants if that’s your end game.”
His gaze heated up to the point he appeared almost feral. “You underestimate me. I thought you would’ve learned your lesson earlier tonight.”
I’d underestimated him, and I’d been pleasantly, if not disturbingly, surprised. Disturbing because his newfound fondness for Harleys made it doubly hard for me to resist him.
Our gazes met, and that time-standing-still thing happened again. I shook it off quickly before I was sucked in by the sheer power of the unseen to the land of the unknown. I liked my feet to stay on familiar, solid ground where I had the upper hand or close to it. With this man, we were too equally matched for me to be safe. He wasn’t a physical abuser, but the damage he was capable of doing to my heart chilled me to my bone marrow. On the other hand, the fear of not taking a risk on what might end up being the best thing that ever happened to me paralyzed me with uncertainty. Did I take the safe way ou
t or take that chance?
He watched me over the rim of his wineglass, sizing me up like he did his opponents when on the ice. “I’m not sure what my end goal is. I’m fumbling in the dark like you are. What I do know is that I’m insanely attracted to you. I enjoy spending time with you. You’re easy to talk to. I respect your opinions. And, yeah, I’d lose my Puck Brothers card if I didn’t admit I wouldn’t mind getting in your pants at some point in time, but we can play it slow. See where this thing goes.”
I absorbed all that he said, mulling the possibilities over in my mind. I usually didn’t think much beyond the getting-in-the-pants part. My one boyfriend that’d lasted more than a few weeks hadn’t been a good experience. I wasn’t sure what dating Axel would be like. I’d never been a dater before. Just a bones jumper.
When I didn’t respond to what he had to say, he frowned, his eyes troubled. “Are you okay with giving this thing between us a go?”
“I—I don’t know.” My answer was as honest as could be. I wanted to explore a relationship between us, but I was frozen by the fear of being irrevocably hurt. Everyone who’d ever loved me had left me, except for my father, and he was emotionally distant, and Jock, who was the best family member I had. There had to be something wrong with me if so many people walked away once they got to know me. That’d happen with Axel, too, and I’d be left behind with a broken heart and shattered soul. Neither of which I’d be able to repair.
Beneath my tough exterior, I harbored a deep secret. I wasn’t nearly as tough on the inside. I was vulnerable, a marshmallow. I’d concealed my weakness by maintaining an emotional distance and playing up my biker chick persona.
Axel scared me on a level so deep down I didn’t know if I’d recover if and when he walked away from me. And he would leave, wouldn’t he? I wasn’t worthy of love, was I?
While I was an external risk taker, internally I didn’t take risks at all. If you didn’t fall in love, you couldn’t be hurt. If you made your relationships about sex, your heart wasn’t involved. Axel was asking for both—a foreign concept to me and a scary-as-fuck one.
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