He waves me off. “Put it away. You’ll never pay when you’re with me.”
I follow his instructions, then put my bag down. It’s nice of him to pay.
“I want to get to know you,” he says.
I clasp and unclasp my hands. “Why?”
He gives me a funny look. “What do you mean, why?”
“Out of all the girls on the website, why did you want to meet me?” I’m pretty sure he could have had any woman on the website, and it’s clear from my brief interactions with him that women love him.
He gives me a thorough once-over. “Because you’re fucking hot.” Heat rises from my chest, up to my neck, and to my face. “And you seemed like a cool person to get to know.”
I snort, then cough.Real smooth... “No one has ever called me cool.”
“Who cares what anyone else says or thinks.”
He has a point. It sucks that I care.
“My question is,” he says, “why did you move here?”
“I wanted freedom, I guess you could say. I wanted a chance to experience what life has to offer outside of my hometown... It’s my turn.” So many questions run through my brain. I peer at his leather vest, which has a 1% and a War Brothers MC patch on it. “How did you become a member of a motorcycle club?”
“Most of my brothers, who are club members, were in the military. Me and Cash served together. When we got back from the war, we struggled to fit in.”
It pains me to see the deep frown on his face as he pauses and looks away.
“We heard of a few veterans who were starting a motorcycle club, so we came to Crown Village to check it out. That’s where we met Reaper, Bomber, and Viper. We all just clicked, so me and Cash never left. Then a few more members joined, and now there’s seven of us.”
A surge of shock courses through me, entwined with guilt for judging him, and grips my heart like a vice. He’s so much more than I thought.
He grins mischievously. “What do you do for fun?”
I pause, trying to find my words. I’m boring as hell.
“You know what fun is, right?”
My eyes narrow at the amusement in his voice. I lift my chin. “Yes.”
He leans back lazily. “Then what do you do?”
“I read?—”
He bursts out laughing.
“And I enjoy yoga,” I add, making him laugh louder.
He slaps his thigh. “Aw, babe, you’re so innocent. Don’t you go to church too?”
I pout. “I used to. How do you know that?”
He leans over and touches my neck. I suck in a deep breath. I peek down as he pulls my necklace out and lies it on top of my shirt. My parents gave me the gold necklace with a cross pendant on my fourteenth birthday.
“Just a guess,” he comments with a smirk, and then he leans back in his chair. That cheeky smile is addictive.
The server comes over and places our plates of food in front of us. My pancakes look delicious, with a swirl of cream on top and strawberries on the side. But as I inspect the pancakes further, I notice a pink tinge, which makes me think they’re strawberry rather than buttermilk and honey.
“Here’s my number,” the server says seductively, “in case you lost it. You didn’t call me back.”
