Chapter 2
CHAPTER TWO
The morning cast a golden hue over my hotel room. I stirred beneath the crisp sheets, remnants of a dream clinging to the edges of my consciousness. Images of Clark flickered behind my eyelids. His penetrating gaze, the way his lips curved into that teasing smirk. Except in my dream, he wasn’t just the intriguing stranger from the bar. He was intimately familiar. My fake fantasy boyfriend and the real live man rolled into one.
My eyes snapped open as realization dawned. Did I really just dream about him like that? Embarrassment washed over me as my cheeks flushed. I sat up, pressing a cool hand to my heated face. This was ridiculous. I’d met the man once, for goodness’ sake. Shaking off the lingering sensations, I swung my legs over the edge of the bed and stood up, determined to put Clark—and my naughty dream—out of my mind.
Get a grip, Aurora , I chided myself. It was just a dream. A very vivid, wet dream.
After a quick shower, I dressed in jeans and a cozy cream-colored sweater, hoping the simplicity would ground me back in reality. I packed my suitcase, mentally preparing for the drive to Brevard and the impending family drama. I checked out of the hotel, but the scent of fresh coffee beckoned me to another counter. Perhaps caffeine would help clear my head.
As I exited through the double doors, I almost spilled my coffee. There, leaning against a gleaming motorcycle, was Clark. Gone were the casual jeans and t-shirt from last night. Instead, he wore a black leather jacket adorned with chains and patches, his rugged boots and dark sunglasses completing the badass look. The morning sun glinted off the metal of his bike, casting an almost halo-like effect around him.
Damn. My heart did an involuntary flip as I struggled to pick my jaw off the ground. Man’s even more sexy in daylight.
Seriously?
But no. Not just a man, but a biker.
Reality set in. The emblem on his jacket caught my eye—a symbol of a notorious biker gang from Music City. The Royal Bastards MC.
I lifted my chin, determined not to let him see any hint of interest. As I walked past, he glanced up, a slow smile spreading across his bearded face.
“Morning, Aurora,” he drawled.
“Clark,” I replied curtly, not breaking my stride.
He pushed off from his bike, falling into step beside me. “In a hurry?”
“Yes, actually,” I said, keeping my gaze fixed ahead.
“Heading to Brevard still?” he asked casually.
I shot him a sharp look. “Why do you ask?”
He shrugged. “Just making conversation.” But then he gestured toward the road. “Need a ride?”
I scoffed lightly. “No, thank you. Look, I don’t know what you’re trying to pull, but I’m not interested.”
He cocked an eyebrow, like he was genuinely puzzled. “Trying to pull?”
“I know who you are,” I said, pointing to his jacket. “You’re part of that biker gang from Nashville. I’ve heard stories.”
He laughed softly. “Gang? You shouldn’t believe everything you hear.”
I glanced at my watch, eager to escape the uncomfortable encounter. “Well, I should get going.”
As I walked away, I heard him call after me, “Offer stands if you change your mind.”
Reaching my rental car, I unlocked it and slid into the driver’s seat. I inserted the key and turned it. Nothing happened. Frowning, I tried again. Still nothing. You’ve got to be kidding me.
I got out, popping the hood in a futile attempt to diagnose the problem. Not that I knew the first thing about cars. As I stared helplessly at the maze of metal and wires, the rumble of a motorcycle approached.
“Car trouble?” Clark’s voice carried over the sound of his bike.
I closed my eyes briefly, taking a deep breath before turning to face him. “Just a minor issue.”
He parked next to me, cutting the engine. “Need help?”
“I’ve got it handled,” I insisted.
He hung on his handlebars, watching me with an amused expression. “Doesn’t look like it.”
I huffed in frustration. “Fine. It won’t start, and I have no idea why.”
“Want me to take a look?” he offered.
I hesitated. Accepting help from him seemed like admitting defeat, but I was running out of options. “If you can fix it quickly.”
He dismounted and approached the car, peering under the hood. After a moment, he shook his head. “Probably the spark plugs.”
“Great,” I muttered. “Just what I need.”
“I can give you a ride.”
“I’m smarter than to go off with some random biker,” I retorted.
He sighed, a hint of frustration crossing his features. “I ain’t asking you to ‘go off’ with me. Just thought I’d offer a friendly ride, seeing as we’re headed in the same direction.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Oh, now you’re going to Brevard, too?”
“Yeah. Why would I lie about that?” he countered.
“Maybe because you... planned to follow me?” I suggested, crossing my arms.
He laughed outright at that. “Believe it or not, I don’t have to follow a woman to get what I want.”
I bristled. “Excuse me?” Was he saying he wanted me?
He held up his hands in mock surrender. “Look, Brevard’s my hometown. Land of waterfalls, white squirrels, and those blue ghost fireflies.”
I blinked in surprise. “You know about the white squirrels?” No one I ever met outside my hometown had ever heard about them.
“Of course. They’ve got their own festival and everything,” he said confidently. “And nothing beats hiking up to Triple Falls this time of year. Ever gone?”
“Yes, actually. Many times.”
“Then you know how special it is,” he breathed.
I studied him for a moment, suspicion fading. Maybe he was telling the truth. “Fine. So, you’re from Brevard as well.”
“Born and raised,” he confirmed. “Though mom doesn’t live in the same house, I grew up in anymore. It was a real shit hole.”
Maybe I’d misjudged him. “You’re heading home for Thanksgiving too,” I said, reminding myself of our friendly conversation last night.
He nodded. “That’s right. Look, I can’t blame a girl like you for not getting on the back of a Harley with a guy she just met but let me offer you a ride across the highway to the airport. You can sort out another rental there.”
I chewed on my lip, considering. Waiting for an Uber would take ages since it’s Thanksgiving, and I was already behind schedule. But getting on a motorcycle with him? I wasn’t sure that was a good idea.
“Come on,” he coaxed. “I promise I don’t bite.”
I met his gaze, searching for any sign of ill intent. Instead, I found sincerity—and maybe a hint of concern. “Just to the airport?”
“You have my word,” he said.
I exhaled heavily. “Alright. But no funny business.”
He grinned. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”
He gave me a helmet. I put it on, adjusting the strap under my chin. Climbing onto the back of his Harley, I held my breath.
“Hold on tight,” he advised.
I gingerly placed my hands on his sides.
“Tighter than that. Don’t want you falling off.”
Reluctantly, I slid my arms under his jacket, around his firm waist. The warmth of his body seeped through the leather, and I tried to ignore the way my pulse quickened.
The engine roared to life, and we sped out of the parking lot. Despite my initial reservations, a small part of me couldn’t help but enjoy the thrill.
All too soon, we arrived at the airport rental car terminal. He eased the bike to a stop, and I released my grip, stepping off carefully.
“Thanks for the ride,” I said, removing the helmet and shaking out my dark chestnut hair.
“Anytime,” he replied, taking the helmet from me, but not taking his eyes off me.
I hesitated. “And... sorry about earlier. I might have jumped to conclusions.”
He offered a half-smile. “No worries. I get it. Not everyone trusts a biker.”
“Well, maybe some people should be more open-minded,” I admitted.
“Perhaps you should,” he concurred, our gazes locking.
“Well, I should go,” I said finally.
“Safe travels,” he said, inclining his head. “I might run into you in Brevard.”
“Maybe you will,” I replied softly.
He swung back onto his Harley, revving the engine. With a final nod, he took off. I watched until he disappeared from sight.
Damn. Clark was hotter than I could even dream. Shaking my head, I turned and headed inside to sort out my car situation.