Chapter Four
Diesel
Noodles ran past me, her floppy ears bouncing. She looked like she was making an escape but pivoted, stumbled on the hardwood floor, then was on her feet, racing past me again.
Someone had the zoomies.
“Noodles, get your butt back here,” Spencer hollered from somewhere in the clubhouse.
I chuckled and shook my head.
The German shepherd hurried past me again, this time sliding into the coffee table and sending a few magazines flying. The puppy scrambled to her feet and took off toward the kitchen like her tail was on fire.
“She’s gonna hurt herself,” Crowbar called out, appearing in the doorway. “Spencer, grab her!”
“I’m trying!” Spencer huffed as he ran right past me. “I can’t believe she’s outsmarting me. It’s like she turned into a ninja overnight. She needs a cowbell, or some orange stickers.”
“Those stickers are reserved for scary bikers.” Crowbar slowly strolled down the hallway. “You already used half the roll on Deadeye. And Reaper, who’s still peeling them off his cut. ‘Sup,” he said to me when he passed by. “Another day in the crazy clubhouse.”
“No shit.” I chuckled.
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Watching the chaos was always the bright spot of my day, but there was a new bright spot my brain kept circling back to. Or more precisely, certain moments it was stuck on.
The overlook. Ollie’s mouth under mine. The way he’d leaned into the kiss like the male had been waiting for it as long as I had.
Since the moment I’d laid eyes on him, I’d wanted him under me, squirming and begging for my cock.
All I’d thought about at Millie’s was spreading Ollie on the table and feasting on his slim body.
Fucking great. Now my dick was hard. I pulled my phone from my back pocket, then scrolled to Ollie’s number.
My thumb hovered over the glass screen. We’d texted since our date, surface stuff that never went deep. But we hadn’t talked on the phone. Calling him felt different somehow, more intentional.
Fuck it. I hit the button before I could tuck away my phone and raid the kitchen instead.
After three rings Ollie’s breathless voice caressed my ear. “Hey.”
It wasn’t a sensual breathiness. Ollie actually sounded a bit winded. My brows furrowed. “Bad time?”
“Not really.” Something thumped in the background. “I’m currently herding seniors into the community center for bingo night. Irene’s trying to convince me she needs to stop at the liquor store first. She even tried to bribe me with two dollars and a pack of sugar-free gum.”
I grinned so wide my cheeks ached. “Let me guess. Medical emergency.”
“Spiritual emergency this time. She’s very committed. I’ll give her that.” He sounded amused despite the obvious chaos. “What’s up?”
“Never played bingo.” I couldn’t believe I was fishing for an invite to a senior bingo game, but I was just as committed as Irene was. We just had different goals. “Figured I should see what all the fuss is about.”
Smooth, jackass. Could you sound any needier? I most definitely could where Ollie was concerned. He was all of five-feet-three, maybe five-four, yet capable of twisting a six-feet-four biker into a fucking knot. It had only been three days since our date, but I was jonesing to see him again.
You are gone for him. Down bad. Nose wide open. My wolf growled in agreement.
Silence stretched a little too long, making me wonder if I’d freaked him out. Then Ollie softly laughed. “You seriously want to come to senior bingo?”
“That a problem?” I leaned my back against the wall, folding my arm over my chest, and feeling kinda nervous talking to my crush. My pulse wouldn’t slow down and my vision had bathed everything in amber, an indication my eyes had started to glow.
“No, just—really?” he asked, his voice just above a whisper. “You’re not just saying that to be nice?”
I blew out a slow, quiet breath. “I want to see you. It’s cool if you say no. Won’t hurt my feelings.” Maybe my pride, but I’d get over the disappointment. I always did.
Another pause, but shorter this time. “We’re at the Riverside Community Center, if you’re serious about hanging out. The game starts in about twenty minutes.”
“Be there in fifteen.”
“Diesel?”
“Yeah?”
“The seniors are going to lose their minds.”
“Looking forward to it.”
I ended the call and pocketed my phone, a rush of excitement hitting my veins. Ollie wanted to see me. I was so over the fucking moon, I was orbiting the earth.
Noodles zoomed past again, Spencer close behind her. Crowbar was watching them, his arms crossed, wearing an expression that said he was done with everyone’s nonsense.
“Heading out,” I said, grabbing my keys from the counter.
Crowbar raised an eyebrow. “Hot date?”
My grin split my face. “Bingo.”
He gave me a look that said I’d lost my mind. “Brother, that’s just…sad.”
“With Ollie.” I wiggled my eyebrows. “I’m going to enjoy every fucking sad minute of our date.”
“You could’ve led with that, jackass. You had me thinking I needed to stage an intervention,” he said, rolling his eyes. “How do you even intervene with sad bingo? Take away your cards and dabber, if that’s what it’s even called.”
“I don’t even know what that is.” My brow lifted. “Maybe I’m not the one who needs a sad bingo intervention, bro. You’re over there spittin’ knowledge like you’re a regular.”
“Fuck off.” Crowbar flipped me the middle finger.
“Whatever you say, Pookie.” I hurried out of the side exit before Crowbar could catch me. Noodles barked and nearly tripped Crowbar in her excitement to be a part of their fun.
The ride to the community center took twelve minutes. Traffic was light, and my bike ate up the distance between the clubhouse and Riverside like it was nothing. The single-story brick building appeared on my right, with the parking lot already three-quarters full.
I pulled into a spot near the entrance and killed the engine. Through the windows, I could see people moving around inside. Lots of grey hair. Lots of walkers and canes, with the occasional wheelchair gliding by.
After toeing the kickstand down, I headed for the entrance. The door was stuck, or locked, but with a light yank it opened. Inside, the smell hit first. Coffee, muscle rub, and a vague, nose-twitching odor that might’ve been air freshener or someone’s perfume.
The main room stretched out ahead, filled with long tables arranged in crooked rows. Seniors occupied most of the seats, chatting, laughing, and organizing their bingo supplies like they were preparing for battle.
At the front, a woman with a microphone was testing the sound system, her voice crackling through the speaker.
I scanned the room, my gaze finally landing on the man who made my pulse race.
Ollie sat at a table near the middle, surrounded by five seniors I recognized from not only their roadside breakdown, but Ollie’s conversations about their shenanigans.
Irene in lavender, Walter working his jaw, Greta gesturing wildly while she told some story, Artie in another blazer—this one navy—and Edith clutching what looked like a tackle box full of daubers.
Okay. So I knew what they were called, but I’d refused to give Crowbar ammunition. If I hadn’t turned the tables, my room would’ve been flooded with bingo paraphernalia.
Ollie turned his head and scanned the room. He was looking for me. Fuck if that didn’t thrill me down to my bones. Then his hazel eyes found mine, his whole face changing, lighting up as brightness flooded his features. A grin spread across his mouth that made my heart give a little pinch.
Damn. He was genuinely happy to see me. Never had anyone look at me that way before. I stood there for a moment, committing it to memory, knowing I would think about his expression for years to come.
He raised his hand and gestured for me to come over, enthusiasm radiating from every pore of his pocket-sized body.
Threading through the tables took longer than I expected. There were too many people and obstacles in my way. A walker here, a purse there, someone’s cane sticking out into the aisle. But I kept my eyes on Ollie the entire time, and he kept watching me, that grin never fading.
When I finally reached his table, Greta spotted me first among Ollie’s seniors. Her eyes grew round, then she elbowed Irene hard enough to make the other woman yelp.
“Well, hello there,” Greta said, her voice pitched loud enough to carry three tables over. “Look what we have here, ladies.”
Irene’s hand flew to her white hair, patting it into place. Edith straightened in her seat, and even Walter stopped fiddling with his dentures long enough to look me over.
“Everyone, you remember Diesel,” Ollie said, standing up. “Diesel, I’m sure you recall everyone here.” He gave me a nervous look, like I might tell them how he gossiped about them behind their backs.
I would never betray his trust. That wasn’t my style.
“The mechanic,” Irene said, her tone appreciative. “The brawny one who fixed the shuttle.”
“Among other things,” Greta added, her gaze traveling down then back up in a way that made her intentions extremely clear. I wasn’t sure why that amused me so much or why I found her appraisal adorable.
“Miss Greta,” Ollie said in a warning tone. “Behave.”
“What?” she exclaimed innocently. “I’m just looking.”
Ollie narrowed his eyes, but there wasn’t an ounce of heat in them. “You’re doing more than looking.”
“Can you blame me?” She turned her attention fully to me, leaning forward on her elbows. “You single, honey?”
I could not believe her flirtation had me blushing. My face felt as if I was standing in the blazing sun. Please never let my pack find out an elderly woman has me blushing like a fucking school boy.
“Greta,” Ollie said again, louder this time.
“I’m just asking. You can’t invite him here and not expect the ladies to drool all over their dentures. We’re geriatric, most with cataracts and bad hips, but we still have a pulse, Oliver.”
I had no flipping clue what to do with that.
“My teeth are real,” Edith muttered.