Chapter 6 Rebel
When Heron parked his bike, I couldn’t have been more surprised at the restaurant he picked out. I’d heard of Gaetano’s. Fancy. Expensive. Intimate.
I loved that he decided to bring me here. He wasn’t joking earlier when he said he intended to make me hot and bothered and ready to jump into bed with him. He was a lot craftier than I imagined.
The aquarium was a nice touch today. Heron must have gotten the idea from my nails. I knew he saw the shark along with the crow, motorcycle, flames, and pink carnation—all my favorite things. Sometimes, I wasn’t so great at verbally expressing myself, but I knew he’d pick up on my silent signals.
The sexy biker must have snuck and reserved a table when I wasn’t paying attention. It wouldn’t have been hard inside the aquarium. I’d been pleasantly distracted the entire time. The hostess led us to a table in the back corner. The darkened room and candlelight provided a cozy, romantic atmosphere as we sat across from one another at a booth.
Heron picked up a menu and handed it over, not bothering to look at his. “I’ve tried almost every dish here. Everything is delicious.”
“Any recommendations?”
“I suggest we start with bruschetta and fried artichoke hearts, then move on to the house salad. What do you prefer? Steak, chicken, or meatballs? Linguine and alfredo or tomato-based sauce?”
“Tomato, for sure. I’d like to try the four cheese ravioli.”
“Any meat?”
I almost rolled my eyes. I glanced from the menu to Heron and noticed his lecherous grin. “Meatballs.”
“Done. I’m going to sample the fettuccine alfredo and lasagna and add a side of jumbo shrimp. Anything else?”
I shook my head. “I think there’ll be plenty.”
When he said sample, that wasn’t exactly what he meant. Heron devoured everything brought out to him, but he shared a bit from every plate, ensuring I got to try anything I wanted.
I sat across from him, drinking a glass of Moscato after I pushed my plate toward him, not surprised when he ate the rest of my pasta. “So, I have a question.”
He nodded, swirling his fork in noodles. “Go for it.”
“Why do you wear shirts with wild prints?”
He snorted before eating the bite on his fork. He chewed, swallowed, and then set the utensil down. “Well, I guess that would have to do with my dad. I grew up traveling a lot since he was in the military when he was younger until we moved to Las Vegas and put down some roots. I lost him a few years ago.” Heron’s voice lowered in pitch, and I could tell it wasn’t easy to talk about it.
“I’m sorry. Were you close?”
“Very. One of his favorite memories was the time he spent in Hawaii. He used to love shirts with floral prints.”
Heron smiled, and it looked bittersweet.
“He’d roll up the sleeves like he used to do with his uniform, up over his bicep, and I copied him. I’d follow him all over the house and yard and do what he did.” Heron cleared his throat. “He wasn’t my biological father, but he’s the only one I’ve ever known.”
Oh, wow. “You’re adopted.”
“Yeah.”
I wished I had been. Some people shouldn’t become parents. They perpetuated misery from one generation to the next. “Does it bother you?”
“Naw. Maybe it should have, but I always felt different. That showed me the reason why.”
“I get it. Were you close to your mom too?”
“Sure, but my world revolved around Pops.” He shrugged. “What about you?”
I didn’t want to talk about it. Not about my parents, Paul, or the reasons I ran away during my teen years. Too many fucked up memories. I spent a long time trying to put that shit behind me. I didn’t want to think of the people who hurt me. They had taken enough.
“It’s a long story,” I began, sitting back in my chair. I shoved the wine away, no longer interested in it. A part of me felt I should be as open and honest as Heron, but I wasn’t mentally in the right place to have this conversation. “Is your real name Heron? Or was it a nickname before you used it as a road name?”
Heron blinked, pushing his empty plate aside. He gave me an intense stare, then reached for my hand. After a gentle squeeze, he replied. “Neither. I grew up Manu Hale Williams. When I started riding, Heron fit. I remember reading a book about different types of birds as a kid, and that one stuck in my head. I’ve been Heron ever since.”
“Manu Hale,” I whispered. The name sounded sensual, almost exotic. “Hawaiian?”
“Yes, I’ve got Pacific Islander roots. I can’t say much about it because I’m still searching for my birth parents.”
“I hope you find them.”
“I will,” he replied confidently. “Eagle Eye has been helping. We’re close.”
I tightened my grip on his hand. “I’ll talk about my parents another time. Not tonight.”
His gaze softened. “There’s no rush. You tell me when you’re ready.”
Such patience. Heron wasn’t at all like I thought. I’d avoided him for so long, pushing him away because I believed him to be arrogant, cocky, and only after the chance to get me into his bed. I assumed he’d sleep with me and then ignore me. I’d seen it happen to girls before, and I wouldn’t become a notch on someone’s bedpost.
But I had been wrong about Heron. He’d proven to be thoughtful, observant, and sweet. A big biker like him towering over me, and he was still capable of being gentle. I wasn’t a short girl by any means at five foot nine, but I still had to look up into his eyes when we faced each other.
“You wanna get out of here?” His voice had lowered and gotten raspy, and as he stared, his expression betrayed nothing but contentment.
“Yes.”
Heron paid the check and left a generous tip, pressing his hand against my lower back as he guided me through the restaurant.
I wasn’t ready to return to The Roost yet. “Can we take a ride?”
“Sure. Anywhere you want to go?”
I shook my head.
“Then we’ll just let the wind lead us.”
The sun was setting as we rode outside of Vegas, racing along the highway as purple, red, orange, and golden yellow crept over the horizon. It was breathtaking.
With the wind blowing my hair behind me, the warmth of Heron’s body close, and the freedom of the open road, I felt the stress of the last months fading away. On two wheels, everything seemed different—better, easier, like I had no worries, and nothing else mattered.
Knees in the breeze, I hugged Heron closer, resting my head against his back. The helmet hindered the hug, but he didn’t need anything to decipher what I was doing. Before I knew it, we entered Henderson and headed toward The Roost. Even after another hour on the road after the restaurant, I still didn’t want to end the evening or my time with the sexy, tattooed biker.
Heron must read minds or have felt the same way. We pulled into a little ice cream shop, and he parked the bike, switching off the engine before he rose off the seat. He impatiently unbuckled my helmet like he couldn’t wait to see my face. In an instant, his arms encircled me, bringing my body hard against his, allowing no room to misunderstand his attraction or the need flaring in his dark gaze.
“I don’t want to end our date.” His fingertips danced along the edge of my jaw, sweeping upward to lightly pull on my lower lip. “So soft.”
“Kiss me, Manu.”
“Say it again,” he growled, tightening his grip.
“Manu Hale,” I replied, almost breathless from the heated look on his face—my God. The man was gorgeous, but the sinful, seductive way he stared into my eyes ignited a powerful spark between us. Always that same flame of desire whenever he was near. It never faded or burned out. “Kiss me.”
His head lowered as he captured my mouth, taking it for ransom as his tongue pushed through the seam of my lips and caught fire, tangling tongues and dancing in a forbidden twist that sent that heat south into my core.
I wasn’t sure if I moaned or imagined that I did. I’d burn to ashes if I could keep feeling this way.
Too soon, he lifted his head, licking his lips. “You taste like cherries.”
“My lip gloss.” I forgot that I applied it after dinner.
“It’s delicious, but I think you’ll taste better.”
Those naughty words sent my imagination soaring. I clenched my thighs together. An ache pulsed in my core, and I wanted him to relieve it.
“Soon,” he promised, taking my hand. “What’s your favorite flavor?”
Ice cream? Was that what he meant?
A dark chuckle followed. “I sure love how I can fluster you, but it’s even better when you’re dazed like that, lost in a daydream I know I conjured.”
“I love chocolate and peanut butter. Cherry cordials. But nothing with nuts.”
“Noted.”
Heron led me inside to the counter, where we placed our order. I got a Reese’s Cup combination with small chunks of candy and extra chocolate pieces. Heron opted for butter pecan. We licked at our chocolate-dipped cones as we returned outside, taking a seat on an empty bench. My gaze landed on the stars as I enjoyed my cone, leaning against Heron.
“This is perfect.”
“Good to know that food and my bike are enough to make you happy,” he joked.
“Not quite.” I rested my head on his shoulder. “It’s you. No matter how we started, this moment makes up for our rocky beginning.”
“Then I’ll always remember it.”
His voice had quieted, and although it lowered in volume, the tone didn’t lose his deep rasp or the hunger hidden inside him. I’d never met anyone like Heron or had a reaction like this, so intense and lust-filled, but also a magnetism that I couldn’t describe. Being with him felt like a pull I couldn’t escape even if I tried. For a year, I fought it, only to realize that what we felt was unique. You couldn’t fake chemistry like this.
“I know I won’t forget,” I promised.
Long after we finished our cones, we continued to sit, stargaze, huddle together, and soak up the memories we made today. It was everything for a girl like me, who had more skeletons in her closet than a Halloween party and costume store. Feeling his acceptance and affection after so much self-doubt and abuse helped heal me in ways I never anticipated.
“You ready to ride back?”
I glanced at my phone inside my purse, shocked to notice the time. Almost one in the morning. How did we stay out so late? It felt like a blur, only minutes.
“I guess we should.”
Back at The Roost, we parked after entering the lot, noting the quiet exterior of the clubhouse.
“That’s odd,” he murmured.
“Yeah,” I agreed, wondering what had happened since the club was celebrating Bella’s birthday.
Heron pushed open the door ahead of me and held it, allowing me to enter without getting smacked by the heavy wood. The low lighting in the bar felt as intimate as Gaetano’s. It was never this deserted, but I liked the idea of having a drink with Heron before we parted ways.
“Need a nightcap?”
“Sure. Why not?” I asked, taking a seat at the bar. My gaze swept over the streamers and balloons. Crow spoiled his ol’ lady. It was adorable. I hoped she wouldn’t mind that we missed the celebration. I’d make it up to her.
Heron moved behind the bar, reaching for two shot glasses and a bottle of whiskey. “It’s this, rum, or tequila. Your choice.”
“The whiskey.”
“You got it.” He poured two generous shots, sliding one toward me. “Bottoms up.”
I lifted the glass and brought it to my lips, tossing back the liquor as I hissed. They didn’t keep the cheap stuff around here. It burned all the way down and settled with a warm plop in my stomach. Instant heat spread through my veins. I relaxed on the seat, knowing I had to decline another shot before I became a puddle on the floor. It didn’t take much to knock me on my ass.
“Another?”
I shook my head.
“I will.” He winked. “To you, my Spark, for bringing light and warmth into my life.”
How sweet.
Heron swallowed his shot, pushed the glasses aside, and returned the whiskey to the shelf. “I should walk you to your room. Lookin’ a little dazed and sleepy, Love.”
I felt warm and sleepy. Happy. It was wonderful.
“Okay.” I might have hiccupped afterward.
Heron laughed. “Come on.”
He stayed close during the walk, tucking me against his side as we made our way down the hall, up the stairs, and to my door. I pulled out my key and unlocked it when we reached my room.
“I want to invite you inside.” Wow. That was bold.
“I’d love to accept, but tonight isn’t the night, my Spark.” He pressed a gentle kiss on my forehead. “Sweet dreams.”
“Okay. Goodnight.”
“Lock the door behind you. Get some rest, Rebel.”
He didn’t look like he wanted to leave me. That boosted my confidence.
I blew him a kiss and shut the door, turning the lock. As I padded across the floor, I noticed his shadow beneath the door. It didn’t move. I placed my purse and keys on the dresser before kicking off my shoes.
When I fell on the bed and undressed, I noticed he left.
“Goodnight, Manu.”
The following day, after breakfast, I found pink carnations outside my door. With a gasp, I picked up the bouquet and brought it into my room, placing the glass vase on the little table inside. Flowers may not win every woman’s heart, but knowing he remembered from nothing more than a glance at my nails sure made it hard not to fall for him.