Chapter Three
Leon spends three days with Sara.
Whiskey tasting in the Westland Distillery, comparing notes and swapping glasses when he finds one that he loves and she hates.
They return to his suite a little tipsy, her nipping at his lower lip as he fucks her on the couch.
She falls asleep, entwined with him, blanket strewn over their naked bodies as his fingers comb through her chin length waves.
The day after, they hit the Golden Nugget casino where he discovers she’s terrible at poker but half decent at blackjack.
She wins some, she loses some, but it doesn’t really matter when the band starts to play, and Leon pulls her onto the dance floor.
He’s a good dancer, much better than her but he doesn’t care, he just likes holding her close, the feel of the music rushing through his veins as he dances with the most beautiful woman in the room.
On the last night, they sneak into the outdoor hot tub after hours, both conveniently forgetting their swimsuits. He makes love to her with the jets running, his fingers running through her damp hair as he climaxes so hard that stars flicker across his vision.
Those three days, it’s the most fun he’s had in forever, which makes it hurt all the more when their time at the Lodge comes to an end.
Sara’s packing her things when he enters her room, his black leather cut draped over the white t-shirt that hugs his form.
He’d kept it tucked away during this trip with Melina, there’s a clear divide for him between club business and family business and the two should never mingle.
He sets down the compact black backpack containing his clothes before joining Sara alongside the bed, picking up one of her shirts and folding it neatly into her silver suitcase.
“Where are you off to next?” he asks, preoccupying himself with the task.
“Thailand,” she tells him as his shoulder nudges against hers. “I’m doing a pictorial article about the metal tube technique they do out there, the cultural aspects of it. It’s a very spiritual practice; I’d like to find out more about it.”
The thing he’s learned about her over the past few days is that she has an affinity for spirituality and culture.
When she talks about her experiences, the rituals she’s viewed, the knowledge she’s gained, it’s always with respect and reverence.
It comes across in her writing. He’s read a few of her pieces online, studied the pictures.
She’s a gifted journalist and photographer which is why she won that award last year.
He can understand how Duke would have been captivated by her.
“You should send me a postcard,” he says nonchalantly. “I don’t get to travel much being tied to the MC.”
“Where to?” she laughs and that sound, it resonates right through him. “Leon at the Black Bear Lodge, I don’t even know where you live outside of somewhere in Sunridge.”
Leon reaches over to the nightstand, picking up the pen and paper residing there before he scribbles down his address and hands it to her.
“Now you do.”
He sees the expression on her face. He understands her reservations.
She’s been burned before. The man before him wanted a partner, someone to share his life with.
She isn’t that kind of woman. She craves independence, freedom because at the heart of it, she’s a nomad, seeking out adventure and living for new experiences.
Trying to stifle that would be like caging a bird, it needs to be set free, to fly.
“I’m not asking for anything from you,” he tells her resolutely. “I’ve got my own shit going on. Between my kid and the Club, I don’t have time for anything else, but it would be nice to get something in the mail that isn’t a bill, maybe see the world a little too.”
She smiles at that. He thinks she understands it in her own way. The responsibilities she frees herself from are the ones he willingly accepts. His daughter, the MC, his community. He’ll never be able to break away, but he doesn’t want to. He’s in the exact place he’s supposed to be.
“I’ll see what I can do,” she tells him before zipping up the suitcase.
“I’ll hold you to it,” he teases, picking up the luggage off the bed and tugging it through the door with him.
His fingers link with hers in the hallway, his thumb smoothing over the apex of her hand as the two of them walk down to her rental car, shoulders and hips bumping.
He’s not ready to be out of her proximity just yet.
He usually doesn’t have a problem with leaving but Sara, she’s different. He hasn’t felt this content in a while.
“Hit me up next time you’re in town,” he says, lingering alongside his bike. It’s a cherry red Indian Scout Classic, one that rides like a fucking dream when he has to cruise the highway in between Sunridge and Pinehurst. “You’re a lot of fun to be around.”
He’s going to miss her, he realises. Her easy-going nature, her humor, there’s something about this woman that’s gotten under his skin, and he just can’t seem to shake it.
“I will,” she promises him, standing up on tiptoes, her lips brushing over his. “You’re a lot of fun too Leon.”