“What’s your real name? Please tell me it’s something like Tim or Alan. That would be hilarious if someone who looked like you with the name Bull was actually a Tim.”
“Or a Eugene,” I added, deciding to contribute to some form of communication. It was either that or start drooling over his arms.
Lexie nodded. “Gaylord,” she shot back.
I restrained a snort on that one. “Kevin.” We were so on a roll.
Lexie furrowed her brows. “I like the name Kevin.”
I gaped at her. “When have you ever seen a hot guy named Kevin?”
Lexie pondered for a moment. “Kevin Costner!” she declared, sounding victorious.
“Seriously? Okay, let’s forget that he’s sixty for a moment—even in his prime he wasn’t anything to write home about. You’re grasping at straws,” I said. “And we’re getting you some therapy for your older man fetish,” I added with concern.
Lexie scowled at me. “Saying one supremely talented actor was once a very handsome fellow in his prime does not constitute a fetish,” she argued.
“Supremely talented? We’re definitely getting you therapy,” I told her seriously.
I remembered our current company. The realization came with an uncomfortable sensation of heat, feeling his eyes on me. Sure enough, black eyes were darting between Lexie and I. Bull was standing, and the tire was changed. He was staring at us with a blank expression.
“Done,” he declared, ignoring our debate.
“Have you seen Dances with Wolves, Mr. Bull?” Lexie asked him, taking the keys and ignoring the fact he looked like he would rather be in Alcatraz than having this conversation.
“Nope,” he bit out.
“Field of Dreams?” she continued, unhindered by his attitude.
He shook his head. I personally thought he was lying. He just didn’t want to hand in his badass card by admitting he watched such a tear jerker. Then again, maybe his hobbies didn’t turn to watching movies. It was more likely he learned how to waterboard for fun, or practiced menacing looks in the mirror. He had that shit down pat.
“You’ve missed out on some cinematic gold. You should come over and watch it one night—you know, as a thank you. Mom and I always have movie nights on Saturdays. Well, actually we don’t need a designated movie night, we use any excuse. But Saturdays are when we go all out,” she rambled slightly with a smile.
My eyes nearly popped out of my head. My sweet, slightly antisocial daughter was inviting a biker over for a movie night? Not just that. One that was hotter than any man I had seen in real life or in movies.
“Lexie, what were we talking about just the other day? You know what happens when a little man underneath a bed gets hungry,” I said under my breath.
Bull’s eyes flicked to me and something passed in them I couldn’t catch. It was probably the fact he thought I was insane. I wasn’t exactly at my best. The attraction I felt for this man was consuming. This made it all the more mortifying witnessing the hardening of his eyes as they met mine.
“I think we deduced that man doesn’t exist, Mom,” Lexie said firmly. “Plus, Bull’s not a stranger. He’s our neighbor, who did something nice which saved our necks,” she finished triumphantly, winking at him. Actually winking at the guy who would chew up and spit out Chuck Norris.
I was at a loss of what to do, so I quickly glanced at my watch. “Frickin’, flippin’, shoot,” I blurted when I realized the time. “We are actually insanely late now. My chances of Shelly’s coffee are seriously low. Your acai bowl is out of the question, unless they pour it into a cup with a straw, which of course turns it back into a regular smoothie,” I teased. “You’re going to have to run into the café while I sit in the car with the motor running,” I declared, my attention on my daughter. My eyes returned to Bull, who had been glowering at me the entire time. I swallowed the terrible taste that came with this look. “Thank you so much for doing that. You really did come to our rescue,” I said sincerely, despite the look.
He stared at me a moment longer. “You need to get a new tire on there soon. Treads shot to shit. It’s not safe,” he clipped.
I stared at him. The scowl I was being treated to was more likely to be accompanied by a death threat than a worry about my safety. I bit my lip in confusion, feeling uncomfortable under such a stare. Uncomfortable because it was vaguely turning me on. Okay, maybe not so vaguely.
“Omigod!” Lexie exclaimed loudly, unaware that Bull and I were in some kind of weird moment. “We didn’t even introduce ourselves. I’m Alexis, but everyone calls me Lexie.” Her perkiness was unusual for strangers, as was the megawatt smile she was giving Bull. It stayed in place even as she elbowed me in the ribs.
“Amelia,” I ground out, rubbing my midsection. I resisted the urge to poke my tongue out at my daughter. This guy already thought we were mad. No need to add fuel to the fire of crazy we had started. “My friends call me Mia though, and I think that I not only consider you a friend, but an immortal saint for saving me the horror of missing out on my morning latte,” I added, trying to defuse the tension. Unfortunately, my comedic genius was lost on such a broody biker. Maybe if I had offered an arm wrestle.…
He was staring between the two of us, his face blank. Silence hung in the air after my half-assed attempt to seem witty. I felt like an awkward teenager around such an intoxicating presence. It didn’t help that my actual teenage daughter seemed to have more charisma than me.
“You going to tell us your real name now?” My charismatic daughter asked lightheartedly, with a small smile. I honestly didn’t know how he could say no to that face; she was too cute. Then again, she was the fruit of my loins so I was biased. A biker was more likely to be persuaded by a biker chick on a stripper pole.
He seemed to be contemplating something while Lexie kept her smile, unfazed by the dangerous emptiness in his face. I think I needed to get her back on the stranger danger classes. Stat. Maybe get myself some to curb the crazy attraction.
“Zane,” he grunted finally.
Lexie beamed. “Zane. Totally suits you. Knew you weren’t a Eugene,” she joked lightly.
He said nothing else, just gave Lexie a small chin lift and me a withering scowl before turning his back. No goodbye, nothing. Obviously bad ass bikers with world class goatees didn’t bother themselves with something as asinine as goodbyes. We were treated to a view of the patch of his leather vest, which read Sons of Templar MC. My gaze, however, quickly flickered over the rider brandishing a sword and settled on the amazing ass that filled out the black jeans he was wearing the shit out of.
“He was nice,” Lexie exclaimed, shocking me out of my perusal of a seriously glorious behind.
I gaped at her. “Nice?” I repeated in disbelief.
She nodded.
There were multiple words I would use to describe Zane the ’Bull’ biker. Nice was not one. Wouldn’t even make the top fifty.
I shook my head. I would address my daughter’s total misuse of the word nice at a later date. “I need coffee,” I declared.
“Mom, I think the red light flashing on the dash means something’s wrong.”
I glanced over at Lexie in the passenger seat, who was frowning at the dashboard. “I disagree. It has been flashing on and off for days. It’ll go away soon. I only worry when it doesn’t stop flashing,” I declared, my eyes going back to the road.
“As much as I trust your extensive knowledge about the workings of a motor vehicle’s warning systems, I think you should get it looked at,” Lexie said firmly, with only the slightest glimmer of sarcasm.
I nodded. “Yes. At some point in the near to distant future, I will get it looked at. Right now, in the immediate future I am going to perv at Dominic Toretto. Ain’t no metal machine going to mess with that.”
It was true. I would not let an insignificant flashing light mess with my Vin Diesel fix. I was in dire straits. I needed a hot godlike body to help rid my mind of a tall, dark and deadly biker whose withering looks haunt
ed my dreams. Okay, my sexual fantasies. It had been over a week since Zane had changed my tire. I had glimpsed him exactly twice. Once when I was mowing our front lawn and he was pulling out of his driveway, and once when I was arriving home at the same time as him. Both times I got a look that would frighten young children. However, Lexie had been with me the second time and had waved enthusiastically. She got a chin lift back, which I thought counted as enthusiasm from such a creature. Nevertheless, I think I was getting obsessed. Which wasn’t healthy. Daydreaming about a man who obviously loathed me? Not okay. I didn’t know why I had aroused such hatred when he hardly knew me, but it bothered me. A lot. Mostly because I wanted to sleep with him and I was upset that wouldn’t happen. So I needed my Fast men.
“Mom, we have time to quickly pop in to see a mechanic before the movie starts,” Lexie pointed out.
I drummed my fingers on the steering wheel. “We do not have time,” I said with impatience. “We time our movie going arrival specifically. We need to allocate enough time to get appropriate snacks and make sure we get good seats.” I frowned as I thought I heard a weird sound from the engine. I decided to ignore it. “This is doubly more important as this is our first visit to this particular theater, therefore we do not know the caliber of the food there. Therefore, we need the time to do recon on movie snacks,” I finished as if Lexie didn’t already know this. Which she did.
There was a pause and I was sure I heard another weird sound that didn’t sound like it belonged, but I couldn’t be sure.
“I agree. New movie theaters do always require extensive research as to the best snack combinations, plus an evaluation of seating options. But I must insist we sacrifice some of this time to make sure we actually make it to the movie,” Lexie demanded, crossing her arms.
I frowned at her, not liking how sensible she was being. “It’s a Saturday—mechanics aren’t even open,” I shot back triumphantly.
Lexie looked defeated and I did an inward fist pump. My happiness was short-lived as we approached a mechanic-like structure that was surrounded by fencing but had an unmistakable Open sign outside.
“Hah! We have to go in. It’s like fate,” she declared with a snide grin.
“It’s hardly fate,” I argued, slowing down despite myself.
“It’s fate,” Lexie said firmly.
At this declaration, the car grumbled and jolted slightly.
I looked over at her in disbelief and I relented, pulling into the lot. “Are you a wizard?” I asked seriously.
“Of course not. Girls can’t be wizards,” she replied just as seriously.
I shook my head and chuckled slightly, focusing on maneuvering my way into the parking area of this garage. To my amazement and horror, I noticed a Sons of Templar flag flying above the bays of the garage doors and an emblem over the top of a structure off to the side.
Holy shit.
I didn’t have any choice; I had already pulled up close to the bays where cars were hoisted into the air and a couple of men in coveralls were staring at me. Plus, my car made a final death splutter and turned itself off. Fate was definitely getting her jollies today.
“Bitch,” I muttered under my breath.
I turned to my daughter, who was staring at the same flag in amazement. “Isn’t this the club that Zane’s in? Cool, he might be here. We can say hello,” she suggested brightly.
I narrowed my eyes at her. “This is a biker hangout, Lex, I doubt he’d want to shoot the breeze with us. It’d damage his street cred. He’d have to like, steal a cop car to make up for it. Do you really want to be responsible for Zane getting arrested?” I asked her solemnly. I said that instead of saying there was no way in Hell my sixteen-year-old was going anywhere near the hangout of a motorcycle gang.
“Mom,” she started in that distinct teenage voice that suggested all parents were idiots.
“Nope,” I interrupted her. “We are not going to sit here and debate this. Every second we waste chews into our movie snack selection time. I do not want to be rushed and make a bad snack choice,” I said firmly. “I’m going in. I’ll get someone to look at the car. You stay here while I do so,” I instructed in the best mom voice I could muster.
Lexie conceded with a sigh and yanked a book out of her bag. She opened it and curled up into the seat. I didn’t get much fight out of her; this was yet another prime example of how placid she was. It almost worried me sometimes. No teenager could be that compliant, that well-behaved. I almost wanted her to sneak a beer or go to a party, just to set my mind at ease.
I reluctantly got out of the car. I seriously didn’t want my daughter walking around a biker hangout; I wanted to only slightly less. But I needed my hot guy fix. And by the looks of it, I needed my car fixed in order for that to happen. What were the odds of seeing Zane here anyway? I doubted he would trouble himself fixing cars; he was most likely stealing nuclear launch codes or something.
“Can I help you, darlin’?” a man in coveralls asked me as I approached the garage.
I swallowed as I took him in. Maybe I didn’t need Dom after all; this guy rivaled even Vin Diesel on the hotness scale. He was Hispanic, tall and muscled. His shaven head accentuated his chiseled jaw and sharp cheekbones. A day’s stubble darkened that sharp jaw, while his tattoos peeking out from the collar of his shirt hinted at danger. In fact, it wasn’t his tattoos that spoke danger. It was him. I would have been slightly scared if it wasn’t for the easy smile he directed at me, and the soft look in his eyes. I knew what really dangerous men looked like when they smiled at you. What hid behind those smiles. This guy didn’t have it. I smiled back at him.
“I hope so. My car just kind of died right here in your parking lot. If you could bring her back to life in time for me to catch a seriously good movie, I’d be eternally grateful,” I told him with all seriousness, keeping my smile.
He grinned back and I didn’t miss the way his green eyes swept up my body. I felt myself tingle. This guy was at least five years younger than me, and one muscle away from being a sex god. I couldn’t help but feel flattered at the manly appreciation in his gaze.
“I’d be glad to help in any way I can, sweetheart, especially for eternal gratification,” he flirted.
I was glad I took time on today’s outfit. I was wearing tight, distressed jeans that hugged my legs in the perfect way. That was thanks to the fact they were years old and had practically been molded to my body. I also wore strappy wedges, which did wonders for my legs and my height, since I was only five foot six. My flouncy ruffled top had little flowers all over it and cinched in at my waist, showing a modest amount of cleavage. My makeup was natural and I had swept my blonde curls into a messy side braid. Not exactly biker chic, but I wouldn’t be scaring children on the street.
“Thanks…” I glanced down at the nametag on his coveralls. “…Lucky,” I added.
He tipped an imaginary hat. “My pleasure, darlin’. That it over there?” He pointed to my bright red VW beetle, which currently had a young hot guy lounging against it. I frowned. “Yes, it is,” I muttered.
My mind quickly switched from ”check out hot younger guy” to momma bear mode.
“Let’s go check her out,” Lucky said, wiping his hands on a rag and walking toward my car.
I momentarily moved my thoughts of maim and possibly murder. My eyes cut to the attractive Lucky sauntering over to my car.
“What?” I shot at him dangerously.
He looked over his shoulder at me. “Your car? I’ll probably need to get a look at her if I can have any hope of fixing her in time for you to make it to your movie,” he told me on a grin.
I exhaled slightly and caught up with him. “Well, anything that you can do to make sure I don’t miss the previews is an act which will make me look upon you as a godlike being for the rest of my life,” I told him seriously. I kept my eye on the dark-haired kid leaning onto the passenger side of my car, but focused on maintaining some form of conversation with Lucky. He probably al
ready thought I was weird. On the plus side, I hadn’t seen Zane yet. Always a silver lining.
Lucky looked at me sideways, a hint of a smile tickling the edge of his attractive mouth. “The previews?” he questioned.
“Yeah, they’re like our favorite part. It’s integral to the entire movie-going experience. Watching a movie without the previews would be akin to not having cheese on a pizza. It simply isn’t done,” I informed him sagely.
Lucky didn’t have a hint of a grin anymore; he was flat out smiling, and giving me a look that made me wish I was about five years younger. Or more of a cougar. Maybe I could turn into a cougar.
My cougar thoughts were quickly shattered as we reached my car and the man-boy who had been chatting to my little girl straightened. I rectified my earlier man-boy thought; this was just a straight up man. Yes, he was most likely still a teenager, but there was no pimples or gangly legs to be seen. He was tall, taller than most fully grown men, with a shadow on his jaw which made him seem older. His jet black hair was messy and in need of a cut, but it just added to the bad boy vibe he had going. Wearing a leather vest, a black tee and black jeans, he screamed mother’s worst nightmare.
I narrowed my eyes at him. I’m not normally one to judge, but he was talking to my little girl. And a kid like that did not ”just talk” to a kid as pretty as Lexie. He’d probably impregnate her by giving her a smoldering look, which I’m sure he had down pat.
“Shouldn’t you be polishing hub cabs or sweeping out the garage, kid?” Lucky shot at the dangerously attractive youth whom I was feeling slightly murderous thoughts toward. I couldn’t help it. I was a protective momma bear.
He looked up lazily and didn’t seem to be worried at the hint of the warning in Lucky’s tone. Brave kid.
“Smoke break,” was all he said, holding up a nearly finished cigarette.
Well, that was it. Nail in his coffin. Subjecting my girl to not only his raging hormones, but secondhand smoke also? Nuh uh.
Lucky gave him a look, then focused on the passenger seat of my car, squinting. He shook his head knowingly, a shadow of a grin reappearing on his face.