Page 13 of What They Say

He’d spent the last couple of years trying to figure out who he was when he wasn’t “Mason’s kid.” Trying to find his place in OY, in the club, or hell, in his own damn life. And on one random Tuesday morning, a girl on Bear’s custom bike had walked in and made everything feel louder.

He wanted to know her name.

He wanted to know why she was riding that bike.

He wanted more than that.

Chase let out a slow breath and risked another glance.

She was looking right back at him this time, lips curved in a small, amused smirk like she knew exactly what he was thinking.

Chase held her gaze, loving how bold she was. The moment was only broken when the waitress walked between them, depositing a plate in front of the gorgeous girl.

***

Chase’s coffee had gone lukewarm, but he didn’t care. He couldn’t stop watching her.

From the booth she’d sat in, she still projected the same easy confidence she’d shown getting off the bike. The red stockings stood out against the faded vinyl seat like a warning flag. Or an invitation. He wasn’t sure which.

Don’t stare, idiot, he told himself. You look like a creep.

But his eyes kept drifting back anyway. The way the sunlight caught the platinum streaks in her hair. The small tattoo peeking from the neckline of her white tank top. The way she drummed her fingers on the table like she was hearing music no one else could.

She was beautiful in a way that felt dangerous. Not soft. Not safe. The kind of beauty that made you forget you had reasons to keep your distance.

The waitress brought her a refill on her coffee. She thanked her with a quick smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes, then wrapped both hands around the mug again, bending close to take in a deep breath of the coffee.

Something I can feel. Something I can smell.

Chase recognized that move. He followed the same mantra most mornings when his head was too loud.

She’s got ghosts too.

The thought came uninvited and stuck.

He was still debating whether to go back to his eggs or do something stupid like introduce himself when she lifted her head and looked straight at him again. But this time she didn’t just glance. She held his gaze, one eyebrow arching slowly, like she was issuing a challenge.

Chase’s heart kicked hard against his ribs.

Fuck it.

He stood up before he could talk himself out of it, grabbed his coffee mug like a shield, and walked over. She watched him the whole way, expression unreadable.

“Hi,” he said, stopping at the edge of her booth. His voice came out steadier than he felt. “I, uh...noticed the bike outside. That’s Bear’s custom work, right? The blue-and-white streaking?”

She tilted her head, studying him like she was deciding whether he was worth the conversation. Up close, she was even more striking. Her face was all sharp cheekbones, full lips, and eyes that looked like they’d seen more than most people her age.

“Yeah,” she said finally. Her voice had a low, slightly raspy edge that did dangerous things to his pulse. “You know Bear?”

Chase nodded, sliding into the seat across from her without waiting for an invitation. She didn’t tell him to leave, so he took that as a win.

“I live at his place sometimes. Help out in the garage. I watched him dip and paint that tank for weeks. He was ridiculously proud of it.” He offered a small smile. “Didn’t expect to see anyone else riding it. Especially not...” He trailed off.

Especially not someone like you.

She finished the sentence for him anyway. “Especially not a girl?” Her tone was amused, but there was steel underneath it.

Chase rubbed the back of his neck, feeling heat creep up his ears. “That’s not what I meant. Just...most of the guys who ride Bear’s customs are patched. You don’t look like you belong to any charter I know.”