I got on the bike, roared it to life, and sped up. But before I even got to the speed limit for the street leading back to Santa Maria, I slowed down. The bike was helping. But it wasn’t quite the panacea I’d hoped for.
I was Steele Harrison, a man who had suffered great heartbreak in his youth, continued slaps in the faces from reality, and the consequences of an unwillingness to accept that I could not perfectly control the future.
But fucking hell, I was also a man who was unafraid to put hands up against the sheriff, who would call out people for their shit, and who apparently had a thing for Rogers girls.
I chuckled to myself at that last one.
But then an actually funny thing happened.
The thought lingered.
Elizabeth wasn’t just a taboo dare, a sort of “wouldn’t it be funny if…” hypothetical. She was someone who, in one night of conversation, had tried to understand me better than the supposed better sister had in two years of dating. Some of that, sure, was my fault; I didn’t exactly open the door for Tara to know me. But then again, Tara hadn’t really ever knocked, either.
Was this really fucking going to happen? Was I actually going to fucking let Elizabeth Rogers closer into my life?
Well, it wasn’t like anyone else was trying to knock on the door. It wasn’t like anyone else already in was doing me any favors.
“Fuck me,” I said with a chuckle.
It was a risk. But if I was in the spirit of trying out uncertain possibilities, then why the fuck not take a risk?
* * *
Monday Morning
I drove up to the NME Services office in Santa Maria. The sun had risen long ago, as I hadn’t had to wake up to a stupid alarm clock this time. There were no clouds in the sky, and my forearms felt warm and nice from the vibrations of the handlebars and the glow of the sun.
I parked the bike at the back of the lot, taking note of how this office, even in just the week or so since I’d left, had grown significantly. I wasn’t about to pat Elizabeth on the back for doing good with a company worth billions of dollars, but knowing she oversaw the office gave me an odd surge in satisfaction. Like the girl that seemed to morph before my eyes could, in fact, do really damn well for herself.
I got off the bike slowly, taking my helmet off but leaving my sunglasses on. I had on my Black Reapers MC cut, knowing that anyone else at the office would stay a healthy distance away accordingly. That was the point—I may not know what the far future held, but I sure as fuck knew it wouldn’t involve small talk with a cubicle farm.
I walked to the front door.
And then it swung open, courtesy of none other than Elizabeth Rogers.
And today, she wasn’t wearing slacks and a button-down. She was wearing a long, black dress. And though it was obviously professional attire, with no cleavage and a skirt that stopped at the knee and not mid-thigh, it left less to the imagination than her normal clothes did. That hourglass figure all but burned itself into my brain with the way her hips jutted against the dress.
“Steele?” she said. “What are you doing here?”
“I came here to thank you,” I said, stuffing my hands in my pockets. “But not with words. That’s not me. I want you to come get drinks with me this Friday. Let me pay for a couple rounds.”
Her face flickered enough that my suspicions were proven correct. This taboo was available for exploration. It almost didn’t matter what we said to each other now. It was dangerous to think this, but I was absolutely sure I could keep chasing this if I wanted without consequence.
“Drinks? You? Me?” she said. “Are you sure that’s a—”
“What, a good idea?” I said, arching an eyebrow. “It’s not about if it’s a fucking good idea or bad idea. Don’t get it into your head that this means anything. You’re a Rogers.”
A Rogers who listened to me and protected me from jail.
Strange but true, you probably know me better than anyone except Tara. And it wouldn’t take you long to pass it.
“I just want to show my appreciation for you saving my ass.”
“Well, I…I mean, I’ll have to check my calendar if I’m free, but if you’re paying…I get to pick, though. I’m not going to some dirty Reapers bar again.”
I snorted.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t know an offer for a couple of rounds of drinks came with terms and conditions.”
