2. Audrina
2
AUDRINA
I hear the rumble of the straight pipes, and it shouldn’t send a thrill through me, but I know it’s him. West. The man the club calls Hustler; he’s also my boss, and I don’t even want to think about how he acquired that name. Though I’ve worked for him for almost a year, and he’s been at my house for dinner multiple times, I’ve never had the nerve to ask how he got the nickname.
I’m also very sure it’s him who comes by my son's house, albeit it’s my home too for the moment, and idles by the curbside. Tonight, I peeled the curtain back a fraction, and I’m certain it was his silhouette straddling his Harley. My heart races at the idea, even if it is just a little bit on the stalkerish side. Is it really stalking if you know the person? What if that person is just checking on you? I mean, it’s no secret the man is always on shift at the cafe when I’m there; he’s also been overly protective of everyone under his employ since Manny, the club’s chef, got shot some months ago. I can’t deny the whole experience has had me on edge. I haven’t been a part of the motorcycle club for very long, even though my son joined years ago. His father and I separated and later divorced, and John wasn’t exactly the type of man who wanted his son running around with a motorcycle club. I’ve gotten to know Cash and the members, as well as the women of the club — who I now love and adore — and they’ve become a second family.
I sit back on the couch, my heart racing wildly. I don’t get out much, and I’ve never been with anyone since my ex-husband, so this kind of inadvertent attention feels foreign to me.
I’m forty-six, not exactly a spring chicken, but also not over-the-hill. I get men’s attention, but I suspect it’s the red hair and not so much me , but I’m not looking for a weekend romp. I don’t really know what I’m looking for, if anything. I was married for twenty-five years. I’m kinda done. While my failed marriage wasn’t all doom and gloom, it wasn’t always roses, either. Asher’s father is a lawyer— Asher is also known as Nevada in the MC.
John and I fooled around in college, and I got pregnant at eighteen. We married shortly thereafter and settled down. I stayed home to raise our son, as John didn’t like the idea of me working. As the years passed, we grew further apart. He was addicted to his work, and I lost sight of myself. Of who I really was. I had no identity. I had Asher, but my ex-husband made me feel like that was my only job. Never having to work is something that a lot of my friends wish for, but I’d always craved having a career and a job I could grow into. It never happened that way, and I don’t regret being a stay-at-home mom. It’s one of the most underrated jobs in the world. It’s hard work. But I’m also still me. I have dreams and ambition. Things I still want to achieve, which is why I took the job in the coffee shop. I wasn’t really sure what I wanted to do. I’ve helped in my friend's office before. I’m not great on a computer, but I’m also not dumb. I catch on pretty quick, but it feels like technology rules the world now, and I’m not so sure I can keep up.
Then there’s dating. My friends are always trying to match me up with someone, but I’ve only been divorced for two years. I haven’t even thought about dating anyone; my divorce was painful. Even if we had grown apart and I was a ghost in the relationship, I still loved him. I always will. He gave me Asher and all the things other people dream of. The beautiful home. A nice car. The designer kitchen I always wanted. Money. I just didn’t have him. John . I never really did. I was just another commodity in his portfolio — the pretty wife to show off at the office party. But I wanted more than that.
The dating scene just sounds hard. The stories I’ve heard from my friends and read online are downright scary. Men are creeps. Okay, not all men, but I’ve heard about first dates from Hell and now there’s a debate on who pays and should you CashApp the guy your half if you don’t want a second date? I’m just not cut out for drama.
But those straight pipes? They do something to me, something deep down inside.
What’s more ridiculous? His straight pipes sound different to my son’s Harley.
With trembling hands, I release the curtain and plonk down onto the couch, unable to move. I’m still sitting here, unsure why this hasn’t just rattled me but shaken me to my very core.
Witnessing West watching me sent tingles through my body that I haven’t felt in such a long time. My body hums all over, and I feel a throb between my legs that I don’t want to admit. Heat rises in my cheeks at what he does to me so easily.
West isn’t just a handsome man; he’s mouth-watering. His face is ridiculously perfect; high cheekbones, blue eyes, a gray and white beard, and his floppy hair is cut and groomed so it hangs just out of his eyes. He has a kind face, and his smile can light up a room. Being six-foot-two is also a nice perk; then again, I’m five-one, so most people tower over me.
The girls at the club tease him with Silver Fox jokes, which he takes in his stride, but it’s no laughing matter. One day, I saw him without a shirt on when he was changing out in the back, and holy hell is that man ripped. His body is insane for a fifty-four year old man, with muscles and ripples in all the right places. It shouldn’t be legal. Clearly, he works out and puts men half his age to shame. I respect that. He also doesn’t drink and always has a smile and a joke… and why does it sound like I’m selling him to myself?
I guess I’m nervous. I haven’t been in the dating game in a long time. The only man I’ve ever had sex with was John, and it was vanilla at best. Not that I’m a freak in the sheets or anything like that, but there are more ways to please a woman than missionary once a month — that’s if John hadn’t had a hard time at work. His stress levels, as well as being a workaholic, are ultimately what ended our marriage. He just didn’t see me anymore, and I didn’t see him either. He wasn’t the man I married, and I’m reminded time and time again we were too young. It should have ended a long time before it did, but I held on for the sake of our son. I didn’t want Asher to grow up in a broken home, and it wasn’t as if John was a bad person. He’s just set in his ways. His goals and mine didn’t align; they never did. But he provided for us, and even when he was being a bit of a dick, we kept it as civil as possible.
My phone beeps and my heart races as I imagine it’s West, asking what I’m doing. If I’m at home alone on a Saturday night and if I’d like some company. Of course, that’s just a fantasy. Lace, one of the girls from the club who I’m close to and worked with until recently, is the worst tease. Nobody can understand why he hasn’t asked me out, and frankly, I don’t know what’s more irritating — the fact he hasn’t, or them all betting on when he’ll pluck up the courage to do so. I want to scream in frustration, then again, what would I do with a man like West?
My body knows what she’d like to do with him, but I’d never act on it. You could say I’m old school. Back when I was dating John, things were different. It was almost thirty years ago when we first got together. Everything now is so fast-paced. Too fast-paced. With dating apps and speed dating conventions... and then those documentaries on murderers lying in wake waiting for the unsuspecting dateless woman in her mid-forties. I think I’ll take my chances staying single. After all, it’s been a nice couple of years being by myself. For the first time in my life, I’m independent. I have my own life, and it doesn’t revolve around a man. I don’t have to work, but I enjoy it. I love talking to people and discovering this city which has always fascinated me. When I moved in with Asher, I didn’t think I’d be here this long, but the housing market has gone a little nuts, and I know now is the time to buy my own place before I’m priced out of the market.
I smile when another message pops up.
This time I read it.
World’s Greatest Son
Hey Mom, we’re about to leave, you want us to bring you back something?
Asher broke into my phone and changed his name, thinking it would be hilarious. Really, I think it was his way of keeping tabs on me and making sure I’m not secretly texting anyone he doesn’t approve of. I know he likes West; in fact, he’s suggested on more than one occasion that I should take the plunge if I like him, which I denied. Talking about dating with my son isn’t going to happen. I’m not a prude, but he has one of the filthiest mouths in the MC, and he certainly didn’t get that from me. Plus, dating and stuff is private, or it should be.
I quickly type back, knowing he and Star went out to the Whiskey Shack tonight, the restaurant the club owns. They asked me if I wanted to come, but I figured I spend enough time with them as it is. Three’s a crowd, or so I’ve heard.
Me
I already ate, but thank you, honey.
World’s Greatest Son
No problem. Cu soon
Even though I still clip him around the ear most days and tell him to wash his mouth out with soap, I love him to bits. He’s my everything.
I’m about to send an emoji when another text pops up; this time my heart practically leaps out of my chest.
It’s West.
West is freaking texting me! My thumbs can’t move quick enough to press on the message to see what he’s got to say. Maybe he’s finally going to admit that he’s the one curbside-stalking me, and I’ll tell him that’s no way to treat a lady. He could at least buy me dinner first...
West
Hello Audrina
I feel like a silly schoolgirl whenever I get a text from him. Usually, it’s about changing my shift at work — or more frequently since the shooting — if I’m okay or need anything. This is West. He’s a very sweet man under all that gruff exterior.
Another text bounces right after it.
West
I just wanted to check in and make sure you’re okay
I smile to myself, enjoying his words on the screen, knowing that he was just here. He can’t see my car from the street, so aside from the lights being on, he has no idea if I’m home or not, which is kind of sweet in a stalkery kind of way.
Me
Hello, Boss.
I like to call him that, and I’ve seen his nostrils flare when I say it to his face. I think he likes it.
Me
I’m fine, thank you for asking. How are you doing?
Of course, you should know, you were just here...
West
I’m doing good.
So many things flick through my mind to ask him; were you just here? Why were you here? Why are you dragging this out instead of dragging me to your bed? My own thoughts jerk me back into the present moment.
What on earth?
I can’t even let my mind take me to those depths;West’s bed and what it would be like to be there with him.
Holy crap.
Pretending I know what a man wants in bed these days is another joke. But sex is pretty basic, right? I mean, it’s just like riding a bike... Or so they say. I picture West pulling away from the front of the house, his legs spread wide either side of his motorcycle, his hands gripping the handlebars with force as his exhaust roared, leaving little to no doubt to the entire neighborhood he was here.
The gray bubble appears, then disappears. This happens several times before I decide to take the lead. I refuse to ask him out, even though the girls are always saying things like ‘men like strong women’, ‘take charge; you don’t have to wait for him to ask you’ and ‘girl power’.
I guess I’m still at the point where I want the fairytale. I want a man to sweep me off my feet. I want a man who knows what he wants and isn’t afraid to go out and get it. I definitely don’t need a man who isn’t emotionally available or just wants a good time. I want more substance than that.
If West can’t stack up, then I’m happy to remain single. He isn’t the only man in the universe, but he is the only man who makes my knees shake and my heart tremble. I guess I’m just an old romantic at heart.
Me
How are you enjoying being a grandpa?
The minute I hit send, I cringe. I’m sure he doesn’t need to be reminded that he’s old enough to have a grandson. But it’s nothing to be ashamed of. Bella and Priest named him Jack, and he is just a peach. And West is the hottest grandpa I’ve ever freaking seen, if I do say so myself.
West
It’s taken ten years off my life. Kids are the fountain of youth
Me
Bella says he’s sleeping well, the perfect baby
West
He’s an angel. Must take after his grandpa
Me
Really? That’s not what I hear
West
Uh, huh. Exactly what is it you hear, Audrina?
When he types my name like that, I picture him saying it like nobody else has — his deep, gravely voice in that rich, southern tone. It resonates deep down in the lower part of my belly that I try to ignore. It’s an itch I can’t seem to scratch, and it irks the ever-living crap out of me.
Me
A little birdie told me you were a terror when you were a kid
West
My son been braggin’ about me again?
In fact, he and Priest only connected a few years ago, but I’m sure West has told Priest stories of when he was a boy. I smile at the thought of a teenage West, or the young man who grew up in the Midwest and was a diesel mechanic for years in the army. Another thing I found surprising is that he seems so placid. Then again, I was witness to him punching a mafia don’s personal bodyguard in the face for harassing Lace right before the shootout. That was something that will live in my brain rent-free for the rest of my life. He took charge.
He took control and got Lace out of danger, and then he turned his sights on me, shielding me from the carnage when the sniper sent bullets flying across into the cafe. I shudder, my eyes glazing over at the sight of poor Manny… I take a breath. You’re fine. Nothing happened. You’re a strong, capable woman. Manny is okay.
I have to remind myself from time to time because I’ve never truly felt a hundred percent capable. Sure, I raised a beautiful child, ran a busy household, and was a doting wife for more than half my life, but my identity has really only just begun to shine. Who knows what I’m capable of?
Me
He says you’re wonderful with him, and I’ve seen with my own eyes. I can’t wait to have Grandkids running around everywhere
The truth is, I love kids and always have. When Asher and Star announce they’re pregnant, it will be the happiest day of my life.
West
You’re too young to be a Grandma
Me
I’ll have you know I’m not, sadly
West
It’s a crime, you look half your age
Butterflies stir in my stomach the way they always do when he talks like this. He’s big on the compliments, especially my cooking. At least being a wife and housemaid kind of paid off for the last twenty-five years.
Me
You’ll have me blushing if you keep that up
The gray bubble appears, then disappears, and my heart runs away with me. I’m flirting, and a man like West knows I’m flirting. The question is, what’s he going to do about it?
West
We can’t have that now, can we?
West
Actually, I was going to ask
Yes?
Yes…
YES!!
For pity’s sake, just ask!
West
If you were okay to work on Monday?
I let out a sigh, my eyes almost rolling into the back of my head.
He’s not the one.
Oh, but I wish he was.
I pinch the bridge of my nose and try not to recite square peg, round hole several times in my head. If we don’t fit, we don’t fit. Even if the sexual energy around us is pretty damn obvious, even to someone as clueless as me, that clearly doesn’t mean we’d be a good match.
Me
I’m fine to cover, West, whatever you need
West
Life saver. Appreciate it
Me
I’m going to bed now. See you Monday :)
West
Goodnight, Audrina
Me
Goodnight, West
I toss my phone onto the cushion next to me. I could wait up for Asher and Star to get home, but they’re on a date night. I should really make myself scarce and give them some alone time without Mom hanging around.
Am I a pathetic mess?
I can’t even get the one guy I’m interested in to flirt back with me.
I stare at myself in the mirror before I take a shower. I pull up the sides of my eyebrows, emulating a brow lift. My cheeks are a little pink, thanks to West, but I’m not completely horrific. I hold my hair up in a short ponytail, unable to stop thinking about West’s hand gripping it tightly in his palm while he whispers dirty, dirty things to me.
I close my eyes. I need to stop this. It’s a dirty fantasy, one he can’t know about. We may have gotten close, and he may be the ideal man on the surface, but there is no way I’m asking him out on a date. If I’m completely off base, the rejection would be too much. And then there’s that voice in my head that says he’s probably just being nice. He didn’t just protect me in the cafe; he protected Lace and his other staff too.
Then again, I remember his blue eyes shining like dark sapphires as he laid on top of me when we fell to the ground. The grunt that left his throat and the protective glare that penetrated my gaze will never leave me. It was scary, but West made it all better.
But I’ve got it wrong. He’s not willing to date a woman like me. I’ve got baggage. I’ve got enough of the damn stuff to rival American Airlines lost baggage claim. As I turn my head to the side and suck my cheeks in, I wonder what West’s type is. Does he like busty blondes? Dark-haired women with brown eyes? Or natural, clueless redheads like me who have a swear jar in their kitchen, plant lavender in the garden for good luck, and can make chili like nobody’s business. I have skills.
A man like West would have a legion of women at his beck and call; why would he want me? Then again, I’ve seen him politely refuse the sweet butt’s advances; that’s what the bikers call some of the women in the club who hang around to drink booze, eat their food, and sleep with any of the single, available men in the clubhouse. I like that he doesn’t sleep with them.
And as much as I’d like to try, I can’t make the first move.
I’m gutless. And I’m going to stay like that until my child gives me some grandbabies to spoil, and then I can shut this madness down.