2. Blake
2
BLAKE
A whistle leaves my lips walking into the Steel Saloon. “Mason Cutler, I never thought I’d see the day.”
My best friend's seated at the bar counter grinning wide with his hand on the thigh of his old lady. The sight's still surprising even after a few months of their whirlwind romance.
Once upon a time, Mace swore he'd never settle down, let alone be a one-woman kind of guy.
That changed the day he met Sydney Singer.
The two couldn't stand each other at first, butting heads at every turn, but after false betrayals were cleared up and the real bad guys held accountable, they’ve been smitten with each other ever since.
So much so, Sydney's head old lady and Mace’s in higher spirits than he's ever been.
Not something I say lightly—the two of us have known each other since we rode around in training wheels. He’s never been happier than he is with Sydney.
He tears his attention away from her and looks over at me, his dark green eyes glinting. "Well, if it ain't Cash. My best friend who has every woman in town begging to have his babies.”
My face warms as the couple laughs. I play it off with a shake of my shoulder-length golden hair and a modest smile. "Not every woman. Just most."
"Do you hear this cocky mother ’effer?" Mace asks his girl.
Sydney humors us both by holding up her hands like she's innocent. "Don't drag me in the middle! I just got here."
"You've been here four months now. That excuse's wearing off."
She lets out a squeal as he squeezes her thigh and leans close, nipping at her neck.
I fold my arms over my chest, admiring the two. "You need to tone it down. You're making even me sick."
“Then get you a girl and we can double date,” Mace says.
I wink in answer. “I’ve got plenty of girls. Just not the girl.”
“How are things with Janessa?” Sydney asks in a hopeful tone. “The woman you brought to our last club party? How’s she doing?”
“Right… she’s good. We’re good. Things are very casual.”
“In other words, she’s for late night calls only.” Mace ignores the chiding look Sydney gives him and reaches for his pint of beer. “I didn’t care for her anyway. She didn’t fit in with the club.”
“She was nice!” Sydney says.
“She wouldn’t even put her purse down. Like the bar had fucking germs or some shit.”
I shoot my best bud an easy smile. “I’d say it’s a fair assessment considering the last time the saloon was deep scrubbed, we were in diapers. I’ll leave you two lovebirds be.”
Both call after me as I turn around and wander the rest of the saloon. On a chilly Friday afternoon like this, the mood’s relaxed and casual. The few guys visiting the saloon are sitting back, sipping on their drinks and chatting among themselves.
I pay Mick a visit on the other side of the counter and then hit up the table where Stein and Bush are enjoying a Texas Brew and some pretzels.
There’s a reason I spend most of my afternoons at the Chop Shop. Otherwise, unless we’ve got club business or a mission we’re carrying out, I’m left aimless. I’m left bored. Things never go too well for me when I get too bored…
I’m chuckling as both Stein and Bush give me a hard time about my looks (something I’m used to at the club). I don’t have the same harsh ruggedness most of the other guys do. They tease the hell out of me for looking like a Hollywood actor version of a biker versus a real-life one.
I take the digs in stride like I always do.
My phone vibrates in my jeans’ pocket. I pull it out as Bush yammers on about my shiny golden hair and how I must spend hours conditioning it.
Janessa’s texted me.
Except there are no words in the text message—just heart emojis and a photo.
An explicit one that almost has me feeling it’s inappropriate even for a damn biker club.
Janessa lies on her bed in nothing but a lacy panty. Her body’s arched, pierced tits thrust forward and ass pushed back at an angle showing off her feminine curves.
It’s a photo that would make any male brain malfunction.
Damn sure makes mine. I forget where the hell I am for a second.
A moment later, she follows up with another text.
Miss u babe. im so lonely. when can i see u?;)
I glance over my shoulder at Stein and Bush’s table. The two older gentlemen have moved on to talking sports. I refocus on my phone and text Janessa back, asking what she’s up to this afternoon.
Thinking of u. Duh. Come over 3
I think on her reply one more second before I agree.
Mace’s correct when he says she’s for late nights only—our most recent club party being the exception. I tested the waters and brought Janessa around the guys. Something I don’t do often with women I’m sleeping with.
There’s never been anyone serious enough to. Just casual flings that burn for a couple months before the fire goes out altogether.
But Janessa… it’s been longer than usual. Though we’ve got little in common and our chemistry starts and ends in bed, I don’t mind her so much.
An afternoon lay will give me something to do. That photo did what it was supposed to—it turned me on enough to make me want to see Janessa at a moment’s notice.
I mount my bike parked outside the saloon and take off.
November in Pulsboro means frosty air and muted skies. Today’s no different. I speed through the small-town streets, causing looks everywhere I go with the rumble of my Street Bob.
Janessa and I met a couple months ago in the aftermath of what happened with the Hellrazors and Road Rebels. I’d been in the ER when a registered nurse—all curves under the scrubs she wore and with a wild, chocolatey brown mane—had treated me. She’d had a flirty glint in her eye the entire time. It was no surprise she wound up slipping me her number with my prescription.
We’ve been hooking up ever since.
She lives on the outskirts of town. Another twenty minutes, and I’ll be there.
I turn down the last street that’ll lead to the highway. The late autumn wind blows my hair back and feels icy cool on the skin. I’ve got my shades on or else I’d be squinting against the force of it.
I grip my buckhorn handlebars and turn to merge onto the highway. The road leading out of town looks crowded, even for a Friday. I’m easing up on my speed, gradually braking, when I spot the car on the shoulder of the road.
A beat-up Geo Metro that looks like it belongs at a junkyard rather than on the highway.
The female driver stands in front of the popped hood with the kind of glower that tells me she’s having a bad day.
None of my business… ’til I realize I recognize her.
I glance and then glance again.
I’m staring and braking. I’m pulling off to the side of the road to let the impatient cars behind me pass.
I take off my aviators.
My eyes have got to be playing tricks on me. It can’t be… there’s no way it’s…
As I’ve slowed up and pulled over, the woman’s noticed me too. Surprise freezes onto her face, her eyes going wide.
It’s when our gazes meet that I know with certainty. That a wave of familiarity strikes me down.
Korine McKibbens.
The Korine McKibbens.
The girl I haven’t seen in a decade yet have never stopped thinking about.
Distantly. Deep, deep in the recesses of my mind.
The only girl I’ve ever been nervous around. The only girl I’ve ever called my best friend. The only girl who… got away .
It’s like becoming a time traveler seeing her again. An onslaught of memories rush me. They’ve got me locking up and speechless as I suddenly feel seventeen again.
Our history runs that far back. Even further than that.
We were six years old the first time we met.
The McKibbenses moved in next door, and my world changed forever. I still thought girls were gross and had cooties, yet here was this cute little rowdy thing making me all sorts of confused—she climbed trees and played with her brother’s action figures. She raced all the boys—and even beat some of us—and she wasn’t afraid of a damn thing.
I hated her… ’til I realized I liked her. Then I realized I wanted her to like me.
We settled for friends. Good friends. Friends so close, at times Mace was jealous. Friends so close, eventually, as we grew older, things got too complicated too fast.
I’m so lost in memories, I have to force myself out of the past. I jerk and take a stilted step forward, then I stop again.
Korine’s staring back at me, eyes wide and questioning. She hasn’t budged an inch.
She hasn’t changed a bit—that’s almost more startling than seeing her again.
Korine’s always been the kind of girl that stands out without even trying. In high school, she was one of the prettiest girls. Never with a stitch of make up on. Damn sure with no heels or frilly fixings other girls dabbled in.
Korine, the tomboy with the pixie cut and faded t-shirts, was beautiful all on her own.
A decade later, that’s far from changed.
Every last detail about her is the same. Golden-brown skin blessed with a kiss from the sun itself. The earthy shade of her eyes and the fullness of her mouth. High cheek bones and a soft, diamond-shaped face.
Her hair’s currently a frizzy mess of chin-length curls, yet standing opposite her, I want nothing more than to dig my fingers into the tight tendrils and seal my lips over hers?—
I clear my throat and grip my belt buckle. “Kori,” I say hoarsely, like old times. “How the hell are you? It’s been a damn while!”
She blinks out of her shock, no other emotion on her beautiful, bare face. She’s dressed down, in a hoodie and some jeans that swallow up the slim, athletic figure of hers that I remember. Nothing really has changed.
Kori’s still a tomboy at her core.
“Hey, Blake,” she says softly. “I… I wasn’t expecting to see you… right now.”
“What are you doing in Pulsboro?! You come back to town, and you don’t hit me up?”
Her head bows to stare at the sneakers she wears. “It’s been a crazy couple weeks. We’re still getting settled.”
“You’ve moved back to town?!”
I should temper my reaction. Drain some of the enthusiasm from my voice and demand my heart stop beating so excitedly in my chest.
But I can’t help it—it’s second nature to have these reactions around Korine. After a decade spent apart, being around her for even a few seconds feels like old times again.
A familiarity I’ve missed. A sense of home that can be dangerous but addictive.
“Yeah, I have,” she answers after a tense pause. “ We bought a house here.”
The spinning wheels and cogs in my brain come to an abrupt, lurching halt. I freeze up again, digesting her words, realizing their meanings. The excitement disappears from my mood and my skin warms despite the November chill.
It’s in this moment that I metaphorically step back and reassess the situation—a diamond-encrusted gold ring glints from the fourth finger of Korine’s left hand. Inside her car, dangling from the backseat overhead handle, is a man’s suit wrapped up in a layer of plastic. I look into her eyes and suddenly I get it.
I understand what’s going on.
Korine’s married.
Of course she would be. Girls like Korine don’t stay on the market for long…
“Who is he?” I husk out, my voice gravelly, sounding almost primitive. I try to be the opposite—the usual levelheaded, mild-mannered Blake Cash most know me as. Mace’s the hothead. Not me.
But damn if I don’t become one in this moment. I don’t even know the guy and yet I already want to bash his face in. A deep-rooted, irrational hatred scorches through me at the thought another man married Korine.
My Kori.
“No one you’d know,” she answers vaguely. “We moved here for a promotion.”
“Kids?”
She shakes her head. “You should get going, Blake. Don’t stop on my account.”
“Your car broke down?” I ignore her comment and walk around to stand beside her in front of her engine. Peering down at the rusting guts of the car, I cast her a glance. “I’m surprised you didn’t fix it on the spot. You’ve always been a pro at this.”
“No tools.”
I raise a brow. “ You ? No tools? You practically carried ’em wherever you went!”
“You should get going.”
“I don’t got much on me. But the Chop Shop’s not far. I can give you a ride. We’ll have one of the guys tow the car back there?—”
“No, Blake, really… it’s okay.”
“It’s no trouble. It’s what we do at the Chop Shop. You know. You worked a summer there.”
“It’s not a good idea. You should be on your way.”
“I’m not leaving you on the side of the road?—”
“Please,” she snaps, irritated. “Just go!”
I take half a step back and survey her up and down. Now that I think about it, now that we’ve interacted, something’s off about her.
There’s a restraint she possesses that wasn’t ever there before. Almost as if she’s holding back. Her true personality’s bottled up inside. Trapped for some reason.
I cock my head to the side. “You okay?”
“I just need to get home. Without your help.”
“Alright,” I say slowly, taking another step away from her. An awkward beat passes between us where we don’t speak but our eyes remain on each other. I can’t put my finger on it, on what’s off about the moment. So I play along. I do as she asks. “It was cool seeing you again, Kori. Come by the Steel Saloon sometime if you get the chance.”
She gives a stiff nod in answer. Restrained and noncommittal.
Eyes dark and mysterious.
I turn and walk away, feeling like my teenage fantasy has been crushed. The many what ifs and somedays that always lingered in the back of my mind about Korine go up in smoke. Not only is she married to some asshole she’s bought a house with, she wants nothing to do with me. She doesn’t even want to be friends.
…she won’t even let me give her a ride.
We hadn’t left off on the best of terms, but shit. I thought we were still friendly enough.
I mount my bike, revving my engine, aviator shades disguising any emotion from my face. Then I blast off, speeding by Korine as she stands stranded on the side of the road.
Leaving my dream girl in the dust.