Chapter 8
Two weeks later, it was Logan who was gripping Maxine DeAngelo around the waist as she sped down Dante Boulevard on her Harley-Davidson as if a demon biker had invaded her slender body.
The wind was blowing his lips back off his teeth and trying to pull his eyeballs out of his head.
He made a mental note: get my will in order if I plan to ride with Maxine.
The wicked glint in her eyes was just like Darcy's.
“I’d say you’ve got a need for speed, Maxine,” he drawled, swinging his long legs off the bike.
He took his helmet off and ran his hands through his hair.
When Darcy had told him her mother had invited them to dinner—and mentioned Maxine’s homemade cannelloni, stuffed with three cheeses and a sauce that could make grown men weep—he hadn’t needed any persuasion.
Meeting Maxine was already a goal of his; the meal was just a bonus.
She threw her dark head back and laughed, rich and unapologetic.
“You would be right about that. Good thing I know most of the cops in this area—they let me slide since Rick was one of their own.” A brief shadow ran through her eyes, and she promptly threw the sign of the cross against her breast. “Dio lo Benedicta.”
He studied her for a moment, then shook his head and smiled. “He’s probably turning over in his grave watching you ride that monster like the crotch rocket from hell.”
Her hands fluttered dramatically. “Oh no, ragazzo mio. Harley is not a monster. He is my baby. The question is”—her gaze narrowed— “do you think you can handle my baby?”
Logan caught the double entendre—this was a test. He wasn’t a man to back away from a direct challenge. “Would you like a drink before I take us back?” he asked smoothly, giving nothing away. “It might be a long ride since I usually stay within the speed limit when I’m on the roads.”
Her smile turned into a wolfish, gloating grin. “Not thirsty. I’m ready when you are, ragazzo mio.”
Logan swung onto the bike, settling in with an easy confidence. Maxine snapped her helmet on and slid on behind him, circling her arms around his waist. “Hang on,” he warned. The powerful engine roared to life beneath them, and he eased into traffic with the moves of a pro.
“I think you are not a novice, ragazzo mio,” her voice sliding under his helmet to his ear.
He chuckled silently to himself. Instead of heading back towards Marlow Street, he cut toward an abandoned stretch of land behind an old landfill, a place he and his buddies had once trained for dirt bike competitions.
A Harley was just a bigger, shinier toy, and he knew these particular toys well.
He lined the bike up, then opened the throttle, hit the first rise, and launched them into the air.
Maxine whooped like a wild woman, her grip tightening, her wild laughter ringing in his ears as he took her through the entire course. She was still chortling when he finally pulled into the driveway on Marlow Street, where Darcy was waiting on the porch.
Maxine slid off the bike, helmet in one hand, the delirious grin of a woman drunk on her newest form of entertainment, and nearly fell. Logan caught her arm as Darcy bolted down the concrete steps. “Hey...easy there,” he cautioned, hiding a grin.
The punch-drunk smile seemed to be permanent as she laughed at him. “You passed, ragazzo mio. I believe you can handle both of my babies.”
“What did you do to my mother?” Darcy squeaked in horror, grabbing for her mother’s other arm when she arrived.
Maxine waved them both off, her grin firmly in place as she staggered toward the porch steps. “This one’s a keeper, Cara Mia.” She plopped down with a sigh of pure satisfaction. “Che corsa! What a ride.”
Logan watched her with a satisfied expression. “We’ll have to do it again sometime, Maxine.”
She shot him a double thumbs up like a giddy teenager. “Contaci, ragazzo mio. Count on it.”
Darcy stared at him with a dubious glare—part curiosity, part censure. “I didn’t know you could ride a motorcycle.”
He patted the seat behind him, his eye glinting wickedly. “Care to go for a ride, sweetheart?”
She waved her hand towards her mother, her lips curling despite herself. “Not if I’m going to come back looking like I just got drunk.”
He swung his long legs over the seat with a low chuckle. “I used to compete in dirt bike competitions at one time,” he explained. “I just took your mother over one of my old practice courses. She loved it.” He reached for her.
Darcy rolled her eyes and let him draw her into his body.
“Of course she did. My mother is crazy and loves the adrenaline rush. My dad used to keep her somewhat under control, but now that he’s gone, she does what she wants.
My brother keeps threatening to move back in with her, but I don’t think it would make any difference. ”
“I like your mother, but I can see where you get your penchant for doing dangerous things,” he replied with a rueful shake of his head. “You are going to keep me on my toes, Darcy DeAnglo.”
“Think you’re up to it?”
His voice dropped low, alpha and dangerous. “You think I’m not?”
***
DARCY FLICKED A GLANCE behind her to see where her mother was—she was gone—perfect. She tiptoed her fingers up Logan’s broad chest. “Let’s just say I don’t intend to be taken for granted by any man ever again,” she purred delicately.
His gaze dropped to hers, his eyes narrowing. “There’s only going to be one man in your life, little witch. “You might as well get used to the idea because I’m not going anywhere.”
A bubble of pure happiness burst in her heart, encompassing Darcy’s whole being in the fallout.
The last two weeks, she and Logan had been practically inseparable, and her desire to be with him all the time was insatiable.
She was learning to trust him, but she still didn’t trust herself.
Introducing him to her mother had been a turning point.
Despite herself, Darcy had fallen for Logan like a cheerleader crushing on the quarterback, but it was also different.
Deeper. Stronger. She loved the strength of his arms, his protective ways, the steadiness that grounded her when she was on the verge of sabotaging herself.
He filled empty places she never knew she had.
She didn’t need her mother’s approval, but her insecurities whispered that if Maxine liked Logan, then he might be everything she thought he was.
After all, her parents' marriage had lasted over 40 years—a lifetime. So, when her mother had invited Logan to come to dinner, she’d been nervous clear to her bones.
But this time...this time her mother actually liked the man she’d wanted so desperately to believe in. That had never happened before.
It was a good omen—if you believed in such things. And Darcy wanted to believe.
She was trembling as her gaze captured his. “I want to go back to your place,” she stated breathlessly. “I need... I need...” She faltered, and let her eyes say the rest. Her palm cupped the roughness of the shadow on his chin, grounding herself in his touch.
Logan’s gaze softened, tender and searching. “You need what, sweetheart?”
“I...I need you.”
His neck convulsed as he swallowed, his voice roughening. “For...how long, little witch?”
Her laugh was shaky, but warm and certain. “Now, tonight, and for every Halloween we have left—if that’s okay with you.”
Logan whooped as loudly as Maxine on her Harley and swung Darcy up in his arms. He strode with her to his silver Camaro. “I’m going to hold you to that, my sweet witch. You’re mine now.”
The kiss he gave her at the car door was all male need, scrambling Darcy’s thoughts until her mother’s voice rang out from the front door.
“There better be a ring in there somewhere!”
Logan waved at her. “There certainly is, Maxine. Darcy has agreed to be mine.” He sealed her promise with another kiss that left her weak in the knees.
Maxine’s loud whoop of laughter spilled into the evening air. “Then get a room!”
Darcy felt the red creeping up her throat, but Logan gave her mother a double thumbs up and helped her into his car. As they drove away, she waved gaily at them from the door, a huge smile plastered on her face.
“My mother likes you,” she said softly, the words more powerful than she’d ever imagined they could be. She leaned back, her heart pounding as joy spilled over.
Logan flicked a glance sideways, his grin boyishly wide. “I like her too. She’s full of spit and vinegar and doesn’t care who knows it.”
She arched an eyebrow, teasing. “Oh? And are you still going to like me when I grow into my mother?”
He snorted, unrepentant. “Sweetheart, you already are your mother. The difference is—unlike her—you have me to keep you safe, even from yourself.”
Darcy laughed, joy and happiness bubbling through her. Logan had been with her through all her fears, meltdowns, and dirty secrets. He’d survived them all—and still wanted her. For once, she was no longer afraid of the future. She was racing toward it, hand in hand with the man she believed in.
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Her eyes were dancing with devilment.
His eyes burned with fire and promise. “Bring it on, sweet witch. I’ll match your mischief and raise you my consequences: every risk you take—I'll be there to collect. Is that a bet you can live with?”
Darcy’s heart swelled and ached as love cautiously crept inside.
She saw not just the man who teased, threatened, protected, and challenged her, but the one who had chosen her.
Chosen every flaw she was ashamed of, every scar that marked her, physical and mental.
Tilting her chin with a shimmering, daring grin, she met his gaze head-on.
“It’s the only bet I’ll ever take,” she whispered, her voice steady and full of promise. “And I’ll keep winning... because every time—it’s you I’ll be choosing, darling.”
Logan growled deep in his throat and floored the gas pedal.
***
Thank You, Dear Reader!
I’M SO GRATEFUL YOU picked up Trick or Trouble—I hope you loved Darcy and Logan’s story as much as I loved writing it!
If it brought you a smile, a laugh, or a little swoon, would you consider leaving a review at your favorite retailer?
Reviews mean the world to authors like me, and without readers like you, I couldn’t do the work I love.
***
DON’T FORGET TO WATCH for Chasing Trouble, the third book in the Holidays Ever After series—arriving this November!
When Whitney “borrows” one of rancher Mac Callahan’s prize gobblers to put a Thanksgiving feast on the table for her little brother and sister, she thinks she can get away with it just like she has before.
But this time, Mac is determined to stop the mysterious poacher who’s been slipping through his woods for months.
Only... the “boy” he’s been chasing isn’t a boy at all—and Whitney might just give him more than a run for his money.
***