Conley (Heartlands Motorcycle Club #8) - Frankie Love Page 0,4
and what do you do?” I ask, having a feeling I might not love the answer.
“I’m in real estate.”
“Really?” I frown.
“What, is there a problem with that?”
“No, I just… you don’t seem like a real estate agent.”
Conley shrugs. “Is it the tattoos or all the motorcycles that threw you off?”
River and I exchange a glance. As a rule, we don’t like bikers. And Conley may be handsome and generous and good at making conversation, but there are enough red flags that have me wondering how his hand could have felt so good when he is so not my type.
“Sorry,” I say. “That was rude. I know you’re not supposed to judge a book by its cover.”
“It’s okay,” Conley says with a light tone that both settles and unnerves me. He seems so… relaxed. Confident. In control. I let my shoulders fall. “But I started getting into real estate in the last few years. My son, Killian, has been helping me build up the business.”
“You have a son?” River asks.
“Yeah,” Conley says with a laugh, running a hand over his jaw. “But I bet he’s the same age as your mom. He’s twenty-eight.”
“Mom’s thirty-one.” River grimaces, looking at me with a half-smile.
I see Conley calculating numbers. I wonder if he is making the same assumptions I made about his job — judging a book by its cover. Only this time, judging a mother by her age.
“I grew up fast,” I say. “I had River when I was seventeen and knew my little guy needed a mother who was responsible.” I don’t say the other part — that I had to be since his father was a deadbeat.
“We do what we have to do, don’t we?” Conley says, wiping his hands on his napkin.
“Thanks for dinner,” I say as we leave the diner. Crossing the street, I wish he had a reason to grab my hand.
“You sure you’ll be okay at this motel?” he asks. “It’s not exactly the Ritz.”
I laugh. “I’ve lived in worse places. I’ll be okay.”
Conley nods, and we stand near his car awkwardly for a moment before River says he needs the key to the room, he has to pee, and Conley and I laugh. Whatever split-second moment we shared while crossing the street has passed.
“Goodnight,” he says. “I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?”
I lift my eyebrows, my heart skipping a beat — thinking he wants to see me again —before remembering. My car. At his auto shop. This is business, nothing more.
I walk to my room, my hand on the doorknob, turning to look at him as he drives away. A desire building in the center of my heart, wishing he had a reason to stay.
Chapter Three
Conley
I drive back to the Ride or Die with a goddamn ache in my cock. Fuck, Calico is something sweet. Bruised but not broken and so damn real. Like she has nothing to hide or fear, like she has been through hell but is stronger for it. No rose-colored glassed perched on her nose — no. Calico understands the mess of the world.
And she’s running.
From what? I’m not sure. But damn, I need to know.
Sitting on a stool, I have a beer. The new bartender, Peaches, serves it with a rare smile. She’s taken over tending at night now that Roxy has a baby and even though her name is sweet, she is a hard ass. It’s why she was hired. After a few drinks of beer, I lose interest. My mind is on Calico. Alone, at that dive of a motel. It doesn’t sit right.
“What’s on your mind, boss?” my buddy Gage asks, sitting down next to me. “The club meeting earlier still have your balls in a bind?”
Gage is the VP of the Heartlands, and I’m fucking glad to have him around. He was a boxer in his youth and he isn’t scared of busting jaws.
“No, it’s not the meeting,” I say. “I mean, sure, the meeting was shit and I know guys are pissed. Change is hard for everyone.”
“Then what is it?” Gage asks, taking a drink of his beer.
“You ever meet someone and wonder where the hell she’s been all your life?”
Gage laughs. “Uh, remember when Roxy and I got together? I fucking changed my whole world for her.”
I smirk. “Right, so you know.”
“Who is the woman?” Gage asks.
I shake my head. “She’s passing through town.”
Gage frowns. “You gonna let her leave, just like that?”
“She’s twenty-five years younger than me.”
“And?” Gage laughs. “Age is just a number, man.