The Biker and the Loner (Oil and Water #3)- S. Ann Cole Page 0,46

says, flipping the underwear around his finger. “They’re in real good condition for being dog-years old.”

That’s because I haven’t worn them since. They’ve been tucked in the back of my underwear drawer as memorabilia.

“And you’re holding them why?” I ask as I butter his toasts.

While I was preparing breakfast, he’d come down for my bags, offering to pack my things out for me. And now my panties are dangling from his finger.

“Because I’m keeping them.” He winks and crumples the panties in his fist, then stuffs them into his back pocket. “They’re my new good luck charm.”

I roll my eyes. “Whatever, perv.”

He grins, unabashed, and plops down at the breakfast bar. “That’s your dad’s Range outside, right?”

“Yep.” I sometimes forget how much he knows, how much I used to tell him on our phone calls. “Kathy hid my keys to the Beemer.”

“Hm. It’s in spectacular condition for an old boy.” He shoves a spoonful of diced fruits in his mouth. “Good as new.”

I round the breakfast bar and take the stool beside him. “That’s because I take good care of it.”

“Can I ask you something?” he pitches as he stuffs scrambled eggs, strips of ham, bacon, sausage, mushrooms and tomatoes into a pita pocket. I feel so sad for the poor pita pocket, the fate that awaits it.

“Go ahead.”

“Would you still be attracted to me if I wasn’t a biker anymore?”

That’s a weird question. “Hmm, let’s see…” I bite a piece of toast and drift my eyes to the ceiling as I pretend to think about it. “Would I still want you if you weren’t around sex-crazed Club Cats shoving their tits in your face all the time? If you weren’t getting involved in unnecessary bar brawls because of the club’s feuds? If you weren’t a part of shady ‘club business’—aka criminal activities that will inevitably land you in jail…? Would I still be interested? Hmmm… I don’t know.”

He slides me a side glance as he takes a huge bite of the overstuffed pita pocket, contents spilling back onto the plate. He chews and swallows before muttering, “Smartass.”

I sip my tea. “Why? Are you planning to leave the club?”

He merely shrugs in response.

A Club Cat would have cared. The appeal of big, bad, tattooed men in leather straddling a bike is what keeps them around, so I understand why he’d think that. But it was never his MC that drew me in to begin with. It was him. His natural appeal. His voice, his laugh, his eyes, those lips. The way he used to look at me when he thought I wasn’t watching. I saw him and the attraction was immediate. Intensely so. His motorcycle, tattoos, and leathers had nothing to do with it.

“Well, if you do, keep the Harley,” I tell him. “I love riding with you.”

His brows wiggles suggestively. “What about riding me?”

Indulging him, I slowly drag my teeth across my lower lip. “That, too.”

~

I'm still hated at work, still gossiped about. I'm still constantly hit on. I still lie that I'm engaged, and the men still don't care. That said, I'm not as bothered by any of it as before. Because I'm on a Scratch high. I'm already missing him, and it’s only been a few hours since I left for work. I already can't wait to see him again.

Heart is overriding Brain and Brain is not happy about it.

As I hum through my day, ringing up sales and feeling freer than I've ever been, I know it’s time to start thinking about getting my life sorted. Especially now that there's no promise of a trust fund to fall back on. Not that I'm broke or anything...yet. I’ve quite a bit in savings to last me a few years if I'm frugal.

Long before I’d packed a runaway bag, I'd opened a secret account and began squirreling away cash in preparation for the day she decided to cut me off because I dared to defy her.

It's enough savings that I could maybe invest in something. I’d taken this job as a means to keep myself occupied, less lonely and pathetic, and out of that house for as long as I could get away with it. But for the first time in a long time, I’m thinking about more.

I feel alive and inspired. Unburdened and unhurt. Unbridled and capable.

I feel free.

At the end of my shift, I'm changing in the locker room when my phone keeps going off with text messages. I don’t need to look to know it’s