3. Blakely
Blakely
I ’ve been sent to the annual biker’s meetup, but it’s more like a camping celebration of bikers in the middle of nowhere, Nevada.
Based on Dad’s stories, this is where he met Mom and fell madly in love with her wide smile and her adorable hostility. Well, he almost ran her over the first time they met and apparently, she didn’t find it charming.
Shocker.
He did try to make amends until she finally gave in but still gave a worthy battle that summer.
Maybe she’s looking down on me right now as I’m stabbing my cigarette on the asphalt and tossing it into one of the ashtrays that cover every table they spread out here, in what they call, The Garage .
Mom, don’t judge. I glance at the bright blue skies. Watch over Dad for me.
Tons of bikers coming here to spend the summer together at The Garage where all the fun begins; racing, performing stunts, and eating the best barbecues I’ve ever seen. Drinking, laughing, meeting new people, and listening to music on high volume like there are no neighbors.
Honestly, there are none, the place is pretty abandoned which makes it the perfect getaway. It’s crazy out here. I never pictured it like this.
As I scan the area multiple models cross my vision, and a victorious smile settles across my face when a specific bike gets a larger audience, Ducati. They are completely immersed in the beauty before them like I am. It is gorgeous. And so damn expensive.
So far, I’ve managed to save two grand for my dream bike—a long road ahead. It’s not just the bike. Maintenance and extra equipment are even more expensive than the bike itself, and I could use new gear.
Bikes are an expensive hobby yet so freaking worth it.
The wired energy washes all over me along with the vibrations, thrill, and roars—I can’t shake the smile off my face and I’m not going to. Maybe Dad was right, this place is exactly what I need. It already feels right as my heart skips a bit upon every rev that hits my chest.
Music to my ears.
Everyone’s faces indicate they are pumped to be here as I glance one last time.
I walk towards the convenience store on the opposite side of the road, where there’s a gas station filled with cars and bikes that are constantly filling their tanks. The place is swarming with people considering it’s the first day.
The fresh smell of gasoline gives me shivers as I continue to stride .
The harsh rays of sunlight clash against my shades and cook my green hair as I free the hair tie from the center of my head and comb my fingers through my strands.
I’m supposed to meet Dad’s old pal, Milo, whom I’ve only seen in pictures that Dad brags about constantly.
As I halt next to the door, a gorgeous German Shepherd and a dark gray Staffordshire sit next to each other outside, gazing at me with starry eyes and wagging tails—I recognize them from a picture Dad took last year with them both.
They bow their big faces down, allowing me to pet them more and rub their bellies while I bend to my knees.
They both wear blissed-out smiley faces and I grin at them in contentment.
“Yes, you like belly rubs.”
I stick my tongue out and make a silly face at them before I stand back up and head in but my body clashes with a firm wall of muscles.
Ouch.
Shit!
He catches me between his strong arms, searing my already heated body with his warmth.
My eyes trail over his white t-shirt, black ripped jeans, and matching combat boots.
“Sorry,” I apologize, sniffing his subtle yet seductive earthy cologne that floods my nostrils and makes me feel lightheaded when he is this near.
“Careful.” The deep rumble of his voice registers and freezes me in place. It propels my thundering heartbeats to jump out of my chest as they echo louder in my ears. “Someone’s in a hurry. What if that was a kid, would you run him over?”
Before I tilt my head to look up at him, he swiftly moves past me and all I catch are the edges of his neck-length, black hair that he covers under a burgundy ball cap.
“Don’t you think you’re exaggerating?” I reply, still assessing him.
“Am I?”
Okay, he’s a bit of an ass.
“Will you apologize too? You bumped straight into me as well,” I use my questioning voice and add a tad of sassiness.
He chuckles but does not turn back, not even an inch. “I think you’re supposed to give way to those who exit,” his hand subtly swings the helmet in his hand, “You got lucky, but green changes eventually.”
Did he just comment on my green hair?
“It’s still rude, biker boy,” I fix my necklace, latching onto the pendent, “A simple sorry wouldn’t hurt you.”
His fist tightens around the helmet, “As I said, be careful next time,” his tone is clipped before it turns playful, “By the way, I also like belly rubs.”
Oh, fuck you. I almost snap at him but stop myself and just flip him the bird as I turn away from him.
“I saw that!” He raises his voice when the loud exhausts fill the space around us as he strides away.
“Good!” I shout back. Powder your cheeks with it.
I shake my face sideways in a mocking way as my feet shuffle away from the doorway, stride inside, and halt by the wooden counter.
“Is anyone here?” I call out.
“Yeah, I’ll be right there!” A man’s enthusiastic tone travels in the moderate space of the convenience store that is packed from top shelf to bottom.
“How can I help?” he places an ice box stacked with ice cubes on the counter, “I’m Milo,” he extends a hand to shake mine. A man pushing sixties who wears his gray hair like an accessory. He has a few visible tattoos I can scour along his fitted form.
“Blakely Wilder.” I grip his hand for a quick shake.
He disappears below the counter, “Oh, Blakely, I’m so happy you finally arrived.”
Dad left such a strong impression on everyone. He’s a great company other than being a hell of a tattoo artist. And I know Milo is one of his closest friends here.
“They have the same eyes,” a blonde woman pops out from where Milo exited a minute ago, pressing her hand to her heart. “I’m glad you joined us. I’m Donna.” Her warm appearance tugs at my heart.
My mom died before my first birthday so I have no memory of her. Sometimes, I wonder what it would’ve been like to grow up with a mother. Seeing older women often brings these thoughts to the surface. Dad never dated, stating he had to raise me and take care of the business—I want him to find companionship and not remain alone when I’m not around.
“My lovely wife,” he adds, shuffling between clinking bottles.
An enamored gaze washes her expression and a sheepish grin pops afterward. “And he’s my lovely, messy husband with the biggest heart I know.”
Isn’t it the dream to be in this type of relationship?
“Donna, honey, where is the bottle of—” More bottles clink, “Never mind. Found it!”
“Messy!” She whispers to me, entirely amused by her husband. “Can I get you anything, honey?”
I grab a Pepsi Cola can from the cooler nearby, “I’ll take this.” I hand her a ten-dollar bill. “How long have you been married?”
“Thirty-four long, excruciating years,” he jokingly emphasizes each word.
She playfully slaps his shoulder, “So dramatic.”
“Your Dad brought you here when you were in diapers and when you grew up a little as well,” Milo says, still wrestling with the bottles.
“You always wanted to rev the bikes, you just ran toward them like a crazy little kitten.” Donna finishes.
I had no idea I was here before. “I don’t remember much.”
Donna tosses her palm down, “You were so little.”
“He told me about how he met my Mom here.” I take a few candies, signaling her to charge me for those as well.
“Those two were…”
“Hellfire.” Milo completes her sentence.
Donna snaps her fingers, “Exactly! So hot they could sear you from a mile away. ”
According to Dad, they were. I wish I could witness them being completely themselves around each other like Donna and Milo. I wish I could meet Mom. I wish I could tell her how lucky she was almost to get run over by Dad. And how amazing he was with me in her absence.
“We just started.” She informs me in a soft tone. “The next days will be filled with adventures, you’ll see.”
I hope so because I really need to clear my head and collect new memories.
Milo straightens up, dropping two liquor bottles inside the box, “Alright! We’re all set.” His exuberant voice makes me laugh.
“Milo will show you where you can put your stuff for tomorrow and escort you to your preserved motel room.” Donna hands me the change, “Have a great afternoon, Blakely, I’m excited to spend some time with you this summer and meet Jim’s beloved daughter all grown up.”
“I appreciate that, Dad told me many stories about you two.”
“Scandalous,” she playfully replies and I giggle.
“Let’s go,” Milo lifts the heavy ice box. “We need to make a quick stop.” He carries it towards the exit like it weighs nothing which probably makes sense. The man looks incredible. Fit. That thick mustache adds a layer of elegance and dominance to his friendly manner.
I open the door for him, trying to catch up with his long strides for a few minutes until we reach the bar’s dark-brown door where a man restlessly fidgets by the entrance .
Milo delivers the ice box straight to his hands, “Hope that’s enough.”
“Thanks, Milo, our machine broke down.” He exhales a breath of relief.
The two continue to chat while I zone out and find the burgundy ball cap guy I bumped into previously amongst the crowd, not far away.
What’s his problem? I squint my eyes, zooming in on him.
He is packed in pure muscles, a tall frame, ringed fingers, and bracelets—drawing attention. Even the way he talks, as he tucks the smoke between his lips and puffs, is sexy.
That silver lip ring in the center of his bottom lip has me biting my lip .
Still, I can’t capture a clear image of his face with the shades covering a significant part of it. Anyway, he’s just an asshole who happens to look sexy.
I don’t need this. I came here for myself to start a new chapter after eight uneventful months.
My gaze drops to my black Converse, I open the tab and it pierces the can with a satisfying pop sound that paints goosebumps on my skin. I’m probably smiling to myself like an idiot.
I don’t care.
I take a long sip, enzymes swim inside the drink, and fizz all over my tongue, and right as I swallow it down, my eyes encounter his face which is turned in my direction.
Another tuck and a puff.
He demonstrates it slowly .
Letting his lips round the butt of the cigarette, he presses them softly.
Inhale.
And blow a cloud of smoke.
A tiny curve forms at the corner of his mouth as he mouths the word, Gotcha .
“No problem. If you need more, call me. Two liquors on the house for the free hour.”
“It’s not necessary you already helped me.”
“Happy to, Russ. Don’t mention it, enjoy the rest of the day.”
“Thanks, Milo, I’ll see you later.”
Mouth gaped, I lick my lips at the sound of the men’s conversation coming to an end. I gulp the liquid down to cool my system from the thing that just happened.
“Blakely, right this way.”
As soon as I turn back to Milo, he motions to the huge, scuffed motel sign near the parking lot, where I parked my pickup truck earlier next to a wide structure.
They don’t have much here but parking lots they have in abundance.
I count the steps on the asphalt to ease my hiking nerves.
One. Two. Three… Forty.
I don’t know why I’m nervous.
Maybe knowing Mom was here before and knew some of these people amps up my anxiety—what if I disappoint her?
“The room is yours for the summer. Unless you decide to leave earlier, in that case, you really can’t stand us anymore and need to flee.”
Sixty-one . Puncturing the bubble that sucked me in, I say, “What?”
“I had a feeling I lost you there.” Milo comments, a genuine grin tucked to his lower face.
I grin back, glancing at him once, “Sorry, must be the drive.” I focus on the mahogany doors of the two-story motel, and the silver railings that cross the second floor.
“Understandable. I’ll show you the setting tomorrow morning. You can rest now.” He extracts a key from his knee-length, navy pants pocket and opens the first door on the right.
Signaling me to check the room, “I assume you ate when you arrived, right?” he asks.
“Yeah, I couldn’t help myself. I was starving.” I pace inside, happy to see a bed, a small table and a chair, a bathroom, and an air conditioner—everything I need. “It’s great. I’ll take it!” I joke and we chuckle in unison.
He dangles the key before he tosses it to me and I catch it.
“If you need anything, don’t hesitate. You have my number or you can drop by the store at any hour.”
“Will do.” I nod. “Thanks, Milo.”
After he leaves, I place my backpack on the nightstand and sink into the mattress, stretching my stiff bones. With each movement I make, the bed creaks beneath me. Yet it doesn’t bother me in the slightest when a yawn entraps my mouth so I close my eyelids for a moment.
A loud bang from outside startles my sleepless form. My pulse skyrockets, hearing another one that follows. The whimpering sound outside my window causes me to jump out of my creaking bed and investigate the noise.
Stepping outside my room, I close the door behind me and then lock it. If some asshole is trying to peep through my window to see me naked or something, I’m going to run him over with my bike. The levels of capacity that I have to deal with this shit are none, as of non-existent. I just arrived here and I’m not in the mood for assholes with no boundaries.
I shove the key into the back pocket of my jeans.
The skies are a calming midnight blue, indicating I slept for a few good hours.
The convenience store in the distance is open and the big electrical sign that stretches across the front of it projects colorful logos and commercials in a loop as different groups are still out there chatting, drinking, and eating.
Where did the bang come from?
At night the patches of palm trees that are scattered in different areas are lit by green and yellow LEDs. The Bar’s neon sign projects a warm orange, red, and yellow glow from afar.
I round the perimeter of the motel wondering if the bang came from back here. I search for an animal on the ground that might be responsible for the sound when my body slams against a hard one for the second time today.
“Shit,” I say as he steadies me. The impact blurs the trail of rocks and plants I scanned and the pang in my chest is brutal, aches from the gear he wears. “Where did you come from? ”
“You have a way of leaving a strong impression, don’t you?”
That voice.
Plus the mention.
I tilt my face up but all I get is yet another disappointing vision of him under the helmet. “You again,” I say dryly. “You seem to be everywhere.”
“You seem to like bumping into me everywhere.” He pulls away to check me from head to toe. “Did I wake you?” He prods himself in the chest and the eagle tattoo that trails across his knuckles disappears underneath the sleeve of his jacket.
“Yeah, you kind of did.” I place my hands on my hips.
“I helped someone who forgot her suitcase and bags out here, being a good samaritan you know.”
I give him my deadpan expression. “How chivalrous of you.”
“I thought so.”
Rolling my eyes, I help him lift the bag that lies on the floor and hand it over to him. But he drops down and crouches right in front of me, so I stand back up while his bag dangles off my finger.
I tilt my gaze down, seeing him tying my shoelaces.
“You got to be careful, those are a hazard especially when it comes to you.” He says annoyingly while amusement drips from each word.
“You don’t know me.”
He flicks his visor upward, “Yet clearly, you continue to bump into me on purpose or stalk me,” he pauses, “I haven’t decided yet.”
“Did you read that line in some novel?” I sass back, arching a brow as I catch a glimpse of green in his eyes.
“Wouldn’t you like that?” He slowly rises back up, towering over my frame as he pushes his body flush against mine and takes his bag, grazing our fingers as he curls his index inside the loop and pulls it away from me.
I blink up at him as my chest heaves up and down and my breasts brush up against the lapels of his opened jacket. It’s pretty dark around but his amused gaze pierces through me as a shiver glides down my spine.
“Thanks,” his throaty voice envelops me.
“At least you’re not some creep groaning and looking through my window.” I focus on something else while my body’s temperature increases.
“Or maybe you heard someone having sex, it’s a motel you know, thin walls,” he whispers the last two words.
“That would’ve been better than bumping into you again.” I pull away, taking a couple of steps backward.
“I knew you were naughty, Grinch.” Another green reference. It sounds like a taunt just to get under my skin.
I roll my eyes at that ridiculous nickname.
“Anyway, you should keep an eye out. All kinds of people come in here, the majority are good people but there are always loose screws who try to ruin it for others.”
I pull my hair tie out of my wrist and twist my hair into a bun, “Yeah, I’m sure.” I stare at the lit palm tree a few feet from us, my fingers playing with a loose strand. A bunch of bikers seem to be getting ready to go for a ride and it itches me to go on one as well.
I turn my gaze back to him—the mysterious guy I know nothing about, yet he still looks distracting.
He pushes the bottom of his helmet upward, revealing the vertical word Home that is inked along the side of his neck. His fingers penetrate his full lips and push against his tongue as he blows a resounding whistle into the warm breeze.
A minute later, the two dogs I encountered earlier show up next to us, all happy and so goddamn cute, the Staffordshire jumps on him and licks the other dog countlessly .
The helmet is shoved back down—not that it showed much other than his mouth.
“Hey, beautiful.” He pets their big heart-shaped heads.
I grin because dogs are my biggest weakness on the planet. If I’m in a bad mood and I see a dog it instantly changes—they make everything better. “You know them?”
“They’re mine.” He crouches to the ground to tickle them and their jolly faces are adorable, lowering their bodies to the asphalt. “The owners babysit them for me. They’re the only animals out here unless someone brings their pets. Not many strays either.”
“Good to know.”
These purest creatures groan in pleasure as he rubs their necks.
“Let’s escort the lady back to her room,” he announces.
The German shepherd licks his helmet probably dying to remove it too. “Chaos, you’re drowning me with kisses.” And she continues without a care in the world.
I giggle to myself, watching her drool stick to his gear.
“Chaos likes kisses, Arrow likes cuddles. Isn’t it right girls?” he opens his arms wide and she jumps on him, tucking her head into the crook of his neck.
My heart melts like an ice cube in the fucking desert—maybe getting a dog is my next chapter. An emotional support furry friend is not a bad idea.
“Is it okay if we walk with you?” he rises back up and I nod to confirm. “Are you on your period or is it your usual Grinch mode?”
I shake my head sideways.
“First, what is wrong with you, we’ve just met?” my facial expressions take my face hostage, “Second, stop calling me that.”
“Or what?” He cocks his head to the side, “You will make this summer my worst nightmare?”
I bite my tongue this time, exhaling hot air from my nose like a trained dragon. “We’ll see.” If I need to guess, there’s a tiny smile hiding under that helmet and I want to scrape it off. “Are you unusually this antagonizing?”
He contemplates for a moment before he answers playfully, “It really depends on the day. But I was asking because I can buy you some chocolate to turn that hostility down a notch.”
“I will never turn down something sweet,” I reply with an innocent grin.
“Good to know,” he pets the dogs one last time, “That there’s a way to get to you. ”
“Fuck around and find out.” Those are not the words I should’ve used.
“With pleasure.”
The dogs back away from him and jump on me, asking to be petted and I can’t refuse them so I rub their smooth fur and watch the joy cover their faces.
Opening his backpack, he extracts a key resembling the one I have.
Great!
He’s staying at the motel as well—I use my sarcastic voice inwardly.
“So if I were an animal you would have been nicer?” he questions.
I sigh, “Probably,” and nod to fortify that statement.
“They seem to like you,” he remarks like I haven’t noticed.
“What’s not to like?”
“Hmm, so far, I’m charmed.” The way he responds so dismissively but with intent causes me to clench my jaw in annoyance. Tearing his gaze away from mine, he strides to the foreground of the motel and I follow along with the dogs that trail between us.
The atmosphere is loaded although not tense, simply disconnected. We remain quiet. We’re both here, but at the same time, it feels like we are a million miles away—lost in our thoughts.
Opening the lock of my door, I say in a low tone, “Goodnight.”
“Goodnight.” He twirls the key in his hand a few times. “Say goodnight, girls.”
The dogs bark once and follow him as he climbs the stairs to the second floor and gets inside his room. Instead of entering my room, I scurry to my Dad’s pickup truck that I borrowed for the summer where I have my bike.
I curse at the wind as I try to unload it. I almost fell, broke my bike, and possibly injured my knee in the process, and it is still, up there.
“Can I give you a hand?” A guy approaches me, clearing his voice and scratching his forehead. “It’s kind of painful to watch, really.” He says with a bright smile.
“Oh, excuse me,” I tighten my hair tie, “Refunds for the show will be accepted after it’s over.”
His rich laughter echoes as he offers his hand for me to shake. “I’m Brook.”
“Blakely.”
It takes us a few tries before we manage to unload my persistent bike. Luckily there are still bikers out here and everyone is used to the sound and doesn’t seem to be bothered either.
“Nice work,” Brook says as we high-five, and breathe heavily like we ran a marathon.
“Where are you from?” I ask as I fix my helmet.
“San Francisco,” he looks at his friends, “This is the best biker’s meetup we know.”
Damn, they do have a reputation that travels miles ahead of them.
“This is cool that you took the time to come here.” Sliding my key in the ignition, I’m ready to hit that starter. “I’m a local so that doesn’t count.”
“Yeah, this place is worth it and the company is just too good to miss,” Brook motions with his head to a few bikers who laugh out loud and tell jokes.
“Can’t argue there.”
“Nope!” His buzz cut fades at the sides, creating that masculine frame atop his head and his bright blue eyes shine like crazy. “Are you here with friends or something?”
“I’m replacing my Dad, the famous tattoo artist, Jim Wilder.”
His eyes go wide, “Oh shit, you’re Blakely Wilder?”
“In the flesh.”
“My friend showed me your work, and I signed up to get a tattoo from you this summer.”
“That’s great! I’m looking forward to it,” I grin back, “Care if I join you guys?”
“Absolutely!” He excitedly nods his chin up and down. “Hey guys, let’s go! And say hello to Blakely, she’s riding with us.”
“Sweet,” one of them says while the rest greet me.
My gorgeous red Ducati roars as I exit the parking lot and go for a night ride. The camera I attached to my helmet captures the journey perfectly. I go under the name BikerGirl99 . Thousands of followers enjoy my biker content on my social accounts. I’m a biker girl who enjoys making them.
I swerve in my lane, enjoying the sound of freedom .
The adrenaline kicking in my system. My arms strum the wind before they return to grip the handles.
This group is wild.
They love to go fast and loud and wheelie every few miles.
I’m laughing to myself as I enjoy the sound of the exhausts encasing me. They seem to be about my age or a bit younger and they constantly check in with me, ensuring that at least one of them stays next to me.
My first group ride and it feels awesome.
The miles keep piling up and tail lights move from side to side and back and forth as the hot wind caresses my skin.
Out of nowhere, like a freaking tornado, a bike passes us at the speed of light and my first instinct is to catch up with him.
Twisting the throttle, I detach from the group and speed toward that sick bike which I already recognize the sound of—that was the beast from earlier today, the expansive one that caught everyone’s attention.
After a few long miles, he comes into view not far away in the distance, easing up on the gears.
My curiosity grows as I level my bike with his and give him a friendly nod. I get goosebumps just from watching it gliding along the road and creating those beautiful sounds.
We swerve our bikes in sync, gliding and teasing each other as if we had practiced this a thousand times before. My bike crosses his, and his bike crosses mine. We’re not speeding, just enjoying the ride for a few minutes until he signals me to do a wheelie.
He raises his bike, popping a wheelie in seconds, and another one, showing off and probably thinking I can’t wheelie my bike.
Guess what… I can tame a beast.
I balance myself, take a deep breath, and pop the front wheel up for long seconds.
I’m in control. I always feel in control on a bike.
As I change positions, I taunt him for fun and push the rear downward just a tiny bit more, it almost collides with the road and then I’m back riding it.
I shake my pinky and my thumb, so freaking pumped to do it and he returns the same gesture.
But now it’s game on, I twist the throttle and bang up the gears as I fly forward and lose him.
Not for long.
His bike is faster and I can tell he is a skilled rider by the way he maneuvers himself on the road, taking advantage of every space, and mastering different tricks.
Slanting his head over to me, he salutes me as he rides at top speed into the night.
I kind of lost the other guys somewhere behind which I’m sure they’ll catch up pretty soon.
I put on some music in the meantime until they show up which doesn’t take them long as they all look impressed by the fact I managed to get away and ditch them this long.