CHAPTER FOUR
“I don’t get it.” I wrinkle my nose at the cards Rambler’s holding. “So like, we just ride around collecting these random cards, and then whoever has the best poker hand at the end wins?” This is the fourth stop we’ve made this afternoon.
Rambler nods, his gray eyes crinkling at the corners as he glances down at me. “That’s it, butterfly. Nothing complicated about it.”
“Huh. That’s pretty cool.”
Rambler tucks his fourth card—a seven of hearts—into his cut, and we rejoin the others who are waiting by the bikes.
“I don’t know about y’all,” Crazy Train says as we approach, “but I’m starving. Wanna head over to the diner across the street?”
I glance over my shoulder at the greasy spoon.
“Food sounds amazing right now,” Cleo agrees, linking her arm through her ol’ man’s.
“I’m in, too,” Klutch nods, his arm slung around Demi’s shoulders.
“Let me tell Chief. I’m sure the rest of these degenerates are hungry too.” Morph heads over to where the prez and his ol’ lady are talking with some of the local brothers.
“We’re gonna head on over,” Rambler calls after him.
Morph lifts a hand in acknowledgment.
“Cmon’, butterfly.” Feeling bold, I thread my fingers through Rambler’s, enjoying how my small hand disappears in his larger one.
He gives me a gentle squeeze as we cross the street to the small diner with a neon sign that reads “Sunny’s.”
The bell above the door jingles as we push through, and a blast of air conditioning hits us. I sigh in relief as goosebumps rise along my arms.
A middle-aged waitress with a blonde ponytail and a name tag that says “Martha” approaches us with a friendly smile. “Y’all with the bike crowd?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Rambler says politely.
“Well, come on in.” She grabs a stack of menus from the hostess stand by the door. “We’ve been seeing bikers all day. Y’all having some kind of event?”
“Poker Run,” Klutch explains, as she leads us to a large booth in the back.
“Ah, that explains it,” Martha says. “Y’all make yourselves comfortable. I’ll be back in two shakes of a squirrel’s tail to take your orders.”
“Take your time, darlin’,” Train says, motioning for Cleo to slide into the booth.
Sliding into the booth next to Rambler, our thighs touch beneath the table. Like a schoolgirl, the simple contact sends a thrill through me. I haven’t been this physically attracted to anyone in... well, maybe ever.
“What are you getting?” I pick up the plastic menu and scan the options. I’m starving and everything sounds good right now. I feel like my big guts are eating my little guts.
“I don’t know. You know what you want?” Rambler asks, his arm coming to rest along the back of the booth behind me.
“Mmm, probably just a burger and fries,” I say, leaning against him. “And an Oreo shake.”
“A woman after my own heart.”
I swallow the lump in my throat. He doesn’t realize how much I wish that might be true.
Martha appears with glasses of water and takes our orders. I’m a little surprised when Rambler orders the exact same thing as me, right down to the Oreo shake.
While we wait for our food, the conversation flows easily. I’m surprised by how comfortable I feel with these people I barely know. Cleo is telling a story about how she met Train, and I find myself laughing along with everyone else.
“So there I was,” she says, waving her hands, “cussing like a sailor because my car had just died in the middle of nowhere. And this guy pulls up on his bike, takes one look at me, and says—”
“Damn, girl, you look like my future wife,” Train finishes with a wicked grin.
Cleo smacks his arm playfully. “And I told him—”
“If that’s your best pickup line, you’d better get back on that bike and keep on riding,” Demi guesses, making everyone laugh.
“Close!” Cleo points at her. “I actually told him if he thought that was going to get him anywhere with me, he was dumber than he looked.”
Train wraps an arm around her shoulders and pulls her close, planting a kiss on her temple. “And yet here we are, six years later.”
“Here we are,” Cleo agrees, her face softening as she looks at him.
There’s something so sweet and genuine about the way they are together. You can tell he’s crazier than a flippin’ loon, but the bond between them is strong, and I find myself envying it.
Will I ever have that?
Martha comes back again with our food, setting plates in front of each of us. The burger I ordered is massive, topped with cheese and bacon, and a heap of golden steak fries beside it. My Oreo shake is thick enough that the straw stands straight up in the glass.
“This looks amazing,” I say, picking up the burger with both hands.
Rambler watches me take my first bite, his eyes darkening when I let out a little moan of pleasure. “Good?”
I nod, covering my mouth with my hand. “So good.”
He picks up his burger and takes a bite of his own, and we all fall into a lull of silence as we devour our food. As I dunk my fries in ketchup and pop them in my mouth, I steal glances at Rambler from the corner of my eye.
He’s beautiful.
I can’t help but appreciate the way his jaw works as he chews, the way his throat moves when he swallows.
God, he’s a sexy bastard.
I’m still not sure what’s happening between us. One amazing night together, and suddenly I can’t stop thinking about him, which is totally freaking stupid. He’s leaving in a couple of days, heading back to St. Louis.
And I’ll be... well, I don’t know where I’ll be. Away from Jacksonville, that’s all I know for sure.
“How’s your shake?” Rambler lifts his glass and sucks the yummy goodness through his straw.
I pick up my own glass and take a long pull. “Mmm… Orgasmic.”
Rambler almost chokes on the bite of french fry he just took.
“Jesus, woman.” He coughs some more.
Klutch pats hard on his back. “Quit being dramatic.”
Rambler’s brows hit his hairline. “Dude. I saw my life flash behind my eyes.”
I can feel my cheeks getting warm.
“But did you die?” Klutch counters.
“Fuck off.”
This is so embarrassing. Everyone is staring at us. “I’m so sorry.”
Cleo reaches across the table and squeezes my hand.“Ignore them, babe. They’re like children.”
Rambler pulls out his wallet when Martha returns with our ticket. “Gimme’ hers.”
“Uhh, no, sir!” I grab for my bill, but he lifts it out of my reach. “I can pay for my own food, Rambler.”
“I know you can, baby. But you’re with me, and I take care of what’s mine.” His eyes hold mine, determined to have his way.“Don’t fight me on this, butterfly.”
I bite my lip, then nod. “Okay. Thank you.”
After paying the bill, we all slide out of the booth and head back to the bikes across the street. Rambler climbs on first while I put on my helmet. Once the strap is fastened under my chin, he offers me his hand, and I climb on behind him.
“Hold on tight, butterfly.” I nod and wrap my arms around his waist, loving the feel of his solid body against mine.
Rambler starts up his bike, and one by one we fall in line behind Chief and Morpheus.
The next hour passes in a blur of winding roads and ocean views. By the time we reach the outskirts of Daytona Beach for our fifth card, I’m feeling completely relaxed and happier than I’ve been in a long time.
Rambler follows the line of bikes down the strip to the Sippin’ Sissy Roadhouse, a famous biker bar where the next checkpoint is set up.
“Almost there, babe.” Rambler’s voice crackles through the Bluetooth in my helmet.
“I’m okay.” I give his middle a little squeeze.
He pulls into the parking lot and takes the spot next to Morpheus.
Killing the engine, he pulls off his helmet and climbs off first. “Here, butterfly.” He holds out his hand.
I take it gratefully, my legs a little wobbly after being on the bike for so long. Then, pulling off my helmet, I shake out my pink hair. “Ugh, I bet I look like a hot mess express.”
Rambler’s eyes soften as they trail over my face. “You’ve never looked more beautiful.”
I roll my eyes, but warmth spreads through my chest. “You’re full of it.”
“Maybe.” His lips twitch as he offers me his hand again.
I grab hold, threading my fingers through his, and we make our way across the lot to where the next tent is set up.
“That’s a long line.” There must be at least fifty bikers waiting to get their cards.
“Looks like we’ll be here a while,” Rambler agrees, taking his spot at the back of the line.
I nod, leaning against him. “That’s okay. I’m not in any rush.”
We chat with Klutch and Demi, who are standing in line behind us. Crazy Train and Cleo are a few people ahead.
The line moves slowly, and I’m starting to get antsy when I feel a prickle at the back of my neck. It’s that weird sixth sense feeling. The one you get when you feel like someone’s watching you.
I glance around casually.
And that’s when I see him.
No, no, no.
My blood turns to ice in my veins.
Eddie.
He’s standing across the lot, leaning against a black Harley. Some of his brothers from the Dirty Devils MC are standing beside him. His silver hair is pulled back in a low ponytail, and his long beard hangs in a single braid. He’s staring right at me, his cold blue eyes boring into mine.
My body goes stock still.
Oh God. Oh God. Oh God.
“Butterfly?” Rambler’s voice sounds far away. “You okay?”
I can’t answer. Can’t move. Can’t breathe.
Eddie’s lips curve into a slow, cruel smile that I know all too well.
After months of hiding, here he is.
I try to act normal, but my heart is pounding so hard. Shit. I feel like I’m going to pass out.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Train nudge Rambler and nod in Eddie’s direction.
“Butterfly.” He leans down, his lips close to my ear. “Who’s the guy staring at you?” I can hear the tension in his voice.
“ I—I don’t know,” I lie, my voice coming out shaky.
I try to act like I’m not freaking the fuck out, but my body betrays me, shaking uncontrollably.
Rambler’s arm slides around my waist, pulling me tighter against him. “Bullshit,” he whispers. “You’re shaking like a leaf.”