2. Vanessa #2
My infatuation is just that—my own. It’s not like Cupid is going to pop out with his bow and arrow, making this seasoned biker fall for me at first sight.
Without overthinking it, I wink at the tough-looking biker before speeding away in a fit of giggles.
Gosh, that was fun.
For a moment, I don’t feel so lonely, making a memory with a handsome stranger in passing.
I’m smiling to myself, sitting at a stoplight, when I feel a presence pull alongside me. I look to my left, not fully comprehending what I’m seeing before looking straight ahead again.
Wait a second…
I do a double-take, nearly falling off my bike when the handsome biker from the shop is on his hog next to me.
Gone is the sternness from his face, replaced with a small, cocky grin. He’s looking dead at me, letting me know I have his full attention.
The lights change to green, and the car behind us honks when we don’t move. Frazzled, I pull away, following the traffic.
Stopped at the next red light, the biker is still beside me. I dare a peek in his direction. He’s still staring at me, his grin more pronounced.
“Hey, Butterfly,” he says, his voice deep and rough, the kind of voice that makes your insides clench excitedly. “Where you heading?”
I gape, floundering to make words. “I—I?—”
“What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue?” He leans closer, his smile menacing. “That usually happens when I play with mice.”
Oh, my word!
Alarm sirens are going off inside my head, and I can’t think straight for nothing, all because a man—a fucking dangerous man by the looks of him—is flirting with me.
“Use your word, Psyche,” he taunts, chuckling under his breath. “Where are you heading?”
“Home!” I blurt, slapping my palm over my mouth when I realize what I’ve done. You never tell a stranger your destination, not when they can follow you.
I need to get the hell out of here.
The light turns green and I peel out, zipping around the car in front of us.
I don’t get far down the main drag before I come up behind a massive pickup truck with big ole hips over its tires, making passing impossible.
It’s not long before I’m stuck at another red light and Mister Dangerous cruises up alongside me again.
“You’re heading home,” he says, picking our conversation up where it left off. “Sounds nice. I am, too—to yours. I can’t wait to see it.”
Oh, my God! My situation has gotten significantly more problematic.
Clearly, winking at the man was the wrong move, considering he’s stalking me on my commute home. I don’t know if he’s all there in his head or if he’s looking to add some new skin lampshades to his home.
Focus, Vanessa! I need to make a note of every little identifying mark on this biker in case I need to report him to the authorities. Not that the police, especially the local ones, will do much to help. You’d be surprised how often cops are in cahoots with their resident bikers.
I look at him head-on, my eyes scanning every inch of him from head to toe. He drives a Heritage Classic Harley in black, one hell of a powerhouse of a bike. I see no tattoos on his arms, at least on the side facing me. I avoid looking at his face—I’ve already got his face etched into my brain.
The only thing that truly identifies him is the leather cut he wears. I see enough to make out a one-percent patch, his president patch, and his club name.
Cupid.
How ironic is my luck?
Here I’ve been avoiding finding someone new and I flirt with a fucking cupid.
No, not a cupid. The Cupid. And I’m his next target.
As soon as the light turns green, I risk squeezing past the big pickup truck and hightail it out of there.
It’s no use. Trying to lose a tail while navigating down narrow downtown streets is not likely, especially when the speed limit is twenty-five miles per hour.
I can hear Cupid pursuing me, his engine roaring over mine.
The next light turns yellow. I zoom through it. A quick glance in my rearview mirror shows me he did as well.
Well, shit. I’ve got a stage one clinger.
My heart is drumming wildly in my chest, knowing I won’t make it through the next set of lights in time without causing an accident. I skid to a halt, cursing up a storm in my head.
Sonofabitch! These stupid old towns with their stupid one-lane main streets and their ridiculously excessive use of stoplights!
Escape is impossible while I’m still in downtown Loveland. I need to get to the main highway and leave this biker in the dust.
Cupid pulls up beside me, his enjoyment clear as day when he says, “Based on the hazardous way you’re riding, one would think you’re trying to outrun me.”
The nerve of this guy, lecturing me on my riding when I’m literally trying to get away from him. Who does he think he is?
“I’m cool with it,” he continues, unbothered by my annoyance. “I love chasing.”
Infuriated, I scowl at the biker, trying to make him shrink away under my withering stare. He chuckles as if I had performed the most adorable act of rebellion.
“Feisty. I like it.”
Unbelievable. When it comes to the opposite sex, fate likes to mess with me.
It’s my luck the most handsome man I’ve encountered showing interest in me turns out to be a one-percent biker, possibly from a nefarious MC, toying with me like I’m his personal plaything as he follows me home.
Not going to happen if I can help it.
It’s probably not the wisest choice to piss off this man, but desperate times call for desperate measures.
Timing is crucial for what I plan. I watch the lights in the other direction of traffic, waiting.
When the cross traffic light turns red, I lean over to his hog, hitting his handlebar-mounted kill switch and stopping his engine.
Cupid’s mouth drops. He’s probably shocked someone dared to touch his hog.
There’s no time to waste. I gun my engine like my heart depends on it.