There were no airs and graces. There was no fakeness. She was all real. She was herself, and that I could really appreciate. The kind of women who hung around biker clubs fit into two camps generally, those looking for a good time, and often primped to within an inch of their lives, and the ones who thought they’d find a biker to attach themselves to for an easy life. Hint: there’s no such thing as an easy life, and being with a biker is never easy either.
Caroline didn’t try to fit into any camp, or any group, or any trend. She just talked, smiled, laughed, and warmed up my stone cold heart every second she was around me. I’d been with women since my first girlfriend, and the first fuck that had lifelong consequences, but never for anything more than a onenighter. When you’re afraid of more lifelong consequences, you tend to stay fluid and away from commitments.
Something about Caroline made me feel the opposite though. It was scary, but freeing too. I could be the right guy for her, couldn’t I?
“Can I take you out tonight?” I asked her, and look at that, that was me blurting something unplanned, like she sometimes did. Her eyes widened, and she fidgeted with her empty plate, and the carefully folded napkin.
“I… really?”
Her bouncy dark curls were escaping again, and I ached to tuck them behind her ear again. Even though I knew she struggled with touch, against all the odds, she liked it when I did that. Her eyes softened, and her cheeks pinked a little, and I wanted to see that again.
“Harley?”
Well damn, too busy being a pervy predator to listen to her. What a prick.
“We have fun, don’t we?” I asked, feeling like an asshole for missing what she’d said, because she deserved my full attention.
“Yes. Yes, we do, I just… I don’t know how to do normal stuff like that.”
I had a feeling she was way better at the stuff she thought was normal than she realised, but now wasn’t the time to point that out.
“Darlin’, I wouldn’t mind betting we can find something we’ll both enjoy.”
Her looking conflicted was most likely a prelude to her backing out, but I was willing to do pretty much anything to prevent that. Not because I wanted to push her beyond her boundaries, but because I wanted to learn where each one was, so I could stay on the right side of them.
“Tell me something you like doing,” I suggested, sipping the last of my coffee, and fighting the vague urge to check the time, because this wasn’t a moment to rush, and I didn’t actually have anything pressing to get back for.
“I… are you expecting sex?”
Whoa. Did a car just screech to a stop somewhere? I feel like I heard that sound in my head right then.
“Pretty sure sex is a third date kinda thing, Caroline.”
She gasped, and shot up from her seat, backing away a few paces, while I realised my fucking huge mistake. I was trying to say that it’d be our first date, but technically if you counted our two coffee ‘dates’, you could call a date tonight our third one.
“Fuck. I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking. I was just trying to keep the mood light.”
I stood up and approached her, but only so I could keep my voice low. I stayed as far back as I could so I wouldn’t crowd her.
“I promise you I’m expecting nothing but maybe some conversation and laughter. Caroline, I’m not a predatory guy, and if I’m coming off like that, I apologise. I sometimes make bad jokes. My daughter’s always accusing me of making ‘dad jokes’, so I guess maybe my sense of humour isn’t as hilarious as I thought it was.”
She was trembling. I did that. I fucking freaked her out enough to make her tremble.
“Do you want to sit down again?” She shook her head vehemently.
“Can I… can I offer you comfort? A hug? Hold your hand?” She was shaking her head to all of those options too. Fuck. I ruined this, just as we were starting to communicate.
I forced myself to take a deep breath and consider my behaviour right now. Even if I wasn’t trying to be a predator, perhaps that’s what she was seeing. I backed up a few steps, fully aware that we were attracting attention from other tables now.
I reached down and grabbed my phone from the table, holding it up to show her.
“I’m going to get back to work, and I’ll stay away from you unless you want to see me. You know where to find me. You know how to reach me. Pop me a little text if you want to hang out. I’ll never be a threat to you, but I’ll go now, so you go safe riding home.”
I turned to leave, catching the eye of the people at the closest table, and offering them a sad smile. Not because I was trying to curry favour, but because I literally felt gut punched.
“She’ll be okay,” I assured the two women, “she just needs some peace and quiet, and she’ll get her mojo back. Please don’t crowd her or anything.”
“Harley!”
