“Looks like a lull at the card table.” Mav announced.
“You want me to see if I can draw for the club?” Blaze asked, following Mav’s gaze.
“Nah.” Mav shook his head. “I’ll see if they can do a table visit though, since there’s no line.” He glanced at Clea. “You eat up, okay?”
She nodded, giving him another smile as she picked up her sandwich. She found Mav’s protective streak endearing and if she hadn’t just come off that job, Clea might have even let herself settle into his brand of caretaking for a bit, enjoyed it more, maybe even upped the ante in the physical department. Though he’d definitely been protective of her on this trip, aside from some light flirting, Mav hadn’t been romantic or sexual to Clea in any way.
Unfortunately.
It had been ages since she’d had a good lay. And, given the way he moved, she imagined he’d be more than satisfactory.
Still, it was probably for the best, especially since she was probably going to ditch Mav and his MC soon. Considering the heist she’d just pulled, he’d be better off if she parted ways with him.
They all would.
She’d certainly enjoyed her time with the Chaos Riders, though. Despite their rough exteriors, the motorcycle club was full of gentlemen. Some of them were even complete simps, which was a wickedly delicious juxtaposition to their looks Clea found completely endearing. A few of the guys were doing the poker run with their girlfriends and it had been adorable watching those tough bikers go all caretaker on their old ladies as they made the trek to each card draw venue. Kind of made a girl wistful with all that romantic posturing going on. Not that she’d know what to do with actual romance. Sex, sure. Relationships that weren’t a means to an end? Not so much.
Even this thing with Mav, they could probably become more with time, but mostly she’d just liked the idea of rolling with his group, hiding out in the pack as she scouted her next place to lie low. The poker run had been fun so far, and Mav and his Chaos Riders had been excellent traveling companions.
And those bikes, gorgeous.
Hers wasn’t bad either, not that she’d had much say in the make or model. She’d just been happy to get some untraceable wheels and offload the Banksy she’d taken from that asshole mark. Her fence had made a steal with that one - the art she’d offloaded was worth more than double the price of the motorcycle he’d procured for her. Still, it was good to be free and clear with that one, and at least her contact had hooked her up with a comfortable ride.
Which was a good thing, considering how many miles she’d logged in the saddle already.
The poker run was a nice way to explore the Four Corners area, though. With the wind in your face, raw power between your legs and kind companions as an escort. Honestly, if not for the dust, it would be perfect. Too bad it was coming to an end soon. They’d been to venues in Utah and Arizona already and after this stop in Northern New Mexico, they’d hit one more in Wolf Creek then head back to Durango for the last draw and final tally.
While she wanted to complete the poker run with Mav and his Chaos Riders, Clea wasn’t sure that was a good idea. As much as she’d appreciated riding with them and the way Mav had taken her under his protection, she didn’t want them taking any heat for her actions. And the closer they got back to civilization, the greater the chances of that happening became.
“Okay people,” Mav had returned with the guy from the cards table, “This is Mr. Ford. He’s agreed to help us out by…”
Clea didn’t catch whatever else Mav was saying. She was too busy staring at the newcomer. He was built like a surfer, or maybe a quarterback. And with his blonde hair and striking green eyes, there was something about tall, blonde, and handsome that had her struggling to look away.
There had to be something in the water in this town. Every single local she’d encountered was hot as hell, and some of them had oddly colored eyes. Maybe it was a fad, colored contacts or something.
But damn, those eyes.
She’d seen green eyes before, but nothing like this man’s. His were a brilliant green, like flawless emeralds or raw moldavite crystals. And as he caught her gaze and cracked a grin that made her core quiver, Clea wondered if the guy was even real.
Truly, in his well-fitting jeans and black Motorcycle Rally t-shirt, with his artfully disheveled beach-blonde hair, he looked simultaneously at home and like he didn’t belong at all.
And damn what his gaze did to her.
Like a massage across her body, making her woozy.
“Duchess?” The concern in Mav’s voice had Clea shifting her eyes.
“I’m good, Mav.” She reached for her water in case the martini was contributing to the warm haze washing her body right now.
“You look a little dazed.” He frowned. “You get enough to eat?”
Clea couldn’t help but smile. Though she and Mav weren’t involved, he considered her one of his this weekend. She liked the way he looked out for his crew and had included her in that number. But she didn’t want him to worry over her.
“Yes.” She nodded, glancing at her plate. “That Reuben was delicious.”
“You haven’t finished it.”
“I don’t like the crusts.”
