The Biker and the Loner (Oil and Water #3)- S. Ann Cole Page 0,22

suppose I won't be feeling left out this time. The thought puts a smile on my face as I climb onto the back of Scratch's bike and circle my arms around his waist.

He revs up. "Good?"

In answer, I squeeze my arms around him.

Never been better.

~

The movie has already begun when we arrive. Most people remain in their cars, but the MC can be seen at the back on blankets and fold-out chairs. As I dismount, Scratch kills the engine then gets out a blanket from the storage compartment.

I spot Onyx. His grin is wide and infectious. I want to grin back, but I'm too nervous. It’s been almost two years since I ghosted the Heathens and stopped accepting their invitations. I do see the occasional one or two during my shifts at Tipsy Scoop, but I’ve not been around them in this capacity for a long time now.

When Scratch is done laying out the blanket on the brown grass, he beckons me with two fingers. "Peach, quit looking like a lost chicken and get over here."

“Peach?” I ask. “So I’m not ‘yams’ anymore?”

“Nah, I’ve decided I like Peach better,” he says. “Yams makes me hungry for food, Peach makes me hungry for you.”

“I hate both.”

“Tough luck.” He beckons to me again. “Get over here.”

I lance him a vicious glare but go to him nonetheless.

Sliding his big paw to the back of my neck, he asks, "You alright?"

I nod.

"Good. Sit down. Lemme go grab us two beers." He massages the nape of my neck, sending shivers down my spine. "You want junk food? Hotdog, popcorn?"

"Popcorn."

I watch him go, and only when he disappears through the doors of the Snack Bar do I lower to the blanket. Had I known of his plans beforehand, I would have brought along two cushions.

One of those multi-superhero movies plays out on the big screen. I'm not a fan of action so I don’t particularly care to watch. Glancing around, I notice that only Onyx and two others are dateless, propped back on their bikes. The rest are all cuddled up on blankets or in chairs. Big, bad bikers all tamed by their Old ladies and Steadies.

Scratch returns a few minutes later with a bucket of popcorn, a large Snickers bar, and two beers.

We pop the caps off the bottles, clink them together, and suck back beer. He watches me the entire time.

"You're a bombshell, you know that?” he compliments after his second swig.

I avert my gaze and give a one-shoulder shrug. "I'm all right."

He scoffs. "There ain’t nothing ‘all right’ about you, Ley. Trust me."

"Shh. I’m trying to watch the movie."

I'm not. I don't care for what’s showing on the big screen, but I also don't do well with compliments. They embarrass me. And I get them a lot, unwanted and unsought.

The way Scratch looks at me is compliment enough. His stripping gaze makes me feel like nothing or no one else exists, leaving me heated and bothered. The words, though...I prefer not to hear them.

"C’mere," he says, pointing to the spot between his bent legs.

Defiant as I am, I crawl between his tree-trunk thighs and lean back against his chest. When I pick up the Snickers bar and start to open the wrapper, he snatches it from my fingers. "Nuh-uh, this is mine. That big ass bucket of popcorn is yours."

"Who said romance is dead?" I grouse as I scoop up a handful of popcorn and begin munching.

He chuckles. "Asked you what you wanted and you said popcorn, Peach. So you got popcorn."

"Whatever," I mumble.

Still chuckling, he tugs at my ponytail and leans down to press a soft kiss to my neck. Butterflies go haywire in my belly.

We fall into comfortable silence as we join in watching the movie. It’s so warm and cozy between Scratch’s thighs, against his hard chest. Such a snug and perfect place to be that I find myself enjoying the movie. It's action-packed with tons of dry humor, and whenever something cool happens, people honk their horns obnoxiously, while the bikers roar.

Scratch feeds me tiny pieces of his Snickers bar, and my sneaky tongue tries to steal a taste of his fingertips each time he does. I keep having small flashes of our first—and only—night together. How it wasn't the most pleasant at first, but then he took his time to make it good.

I bite my lip and inwardly scold myself. I shouldn't be thinking of him in a sexual manner. He's Scratch. A leopard doesn't change its spots.