I blink. “I did?”
The man with the spider-web tattoo snorts. “Ridge Renegades MC funded half the renovation.”
Double oops.
I scan the room again. A motorcycle club who apparently do... community renovation projects?
“We're not all outlaws,” says a red-bearded man pressed into the too-small chair. “Mostly just on weekends.”
A few of the guys chuckle.
The man at the head of the table doesn't laugh. He's still watching me, and the weight of his gaze presses into my chest. My heart speeds faster. I'm suddenly very aware of how short I am compared to everyone here, and how pink and utterly out of place.
“You have a presentation?” he asks.
“Yes.”
"Then present, cupcake."
I raise my chin.
“My name is Karina.”
He raises the scarred eyebrow. “Noted. Is there a problem?”
Seven bikers stare at me. The smart thing would be to apologize and reschedule. Maybe come back another time with a strategy specifically tailored to this audience. But the charity is counting on me. And I've already messed up so spectacularly that I might as well see it through. At least it'll make a good story for Tania.
“No,” I shake my head, then set my laptop on the table. My fingers are trembling, but I get the slides pulled up and turn toface the room, avoiding looking directly at the intimidating man in charge.
“Good afternoon, everyone.” My voice only shakes a little. “I'm Karina Browne, and I'm here to talk to you about the power of a simple hug.”
Spider-web tattoo-guy’s eyebrows shoot up, while the red-bearded guy grins. The leader leans back in his chair and crosses his arms over that unbelievably broad chest. His expression reveals nothing, but there’s a glimmer of interest in those gray-green eyes. Or it could be amusement. Either way, at least he's paying attention.
“Go on,” he says.
So I do.
And it’s either the bravest thing I’ve ever done, or the dumbest.
Chapter Two
CLAY
This girl looks like a tantalizing lost pink cupcake surrounded by a bunch of reprobates looking for a sugar hit.
Her fingers tremble a little, those big blue eyes sweeping round the room. They’re the kind of blue you see at the center of a flame, bright and hypnotizing. Cute little freckles dust her nose and her soft pink lips are parted. She’s curvy.Verycurvy. Hips that flare beneath that ridiculous pink dress and full tits that strain against the fabric. I drag my gaze back to her face before my thoughts go somewhere they shouldn't.
A rapid pulse flutters at her throat. She doesn’t run, though. Standing there in her pretty pink dress, surrounded by mean-ass bikers who tower over her, she holds her ground.
Interesting.
“Hugs for Hearts is a Valentine's initiative focused on combating loneliness in small communities.” Her voice is steadier now. “Studies show that meaningful human touch reduces cortisol, lowers blood pressure, and increases oxytocin… that’s the bonding hormone. But in our increasingly disconnected world, many people go days or even weeks without a single hug.”
She clicks to the next slide: statistics about isolation. Elderly people who haven't been touched in months and teenagers so glued to their phones they've forgotten how to connect face to face.
“Our Valentine’s Day event will feature hug stations staffed by trained volunteers, donation drives for local mental health services, and community connection activities. The goal isn't just to raise money, it's to remind people that they matter. That someone cares enough to reach out and hold them."
Hug stations and cuddle volunteers? Ridiculous.
