Ironside (The Reckless Order MC #4)

Chapter 1

Chapter one

Ironside

I grumbled mildly under my breath as I parked my motorcycle outside The Bellflower.

It was a quaint little brick shop, with floor to ceiling windows, displaying frothy arrangements of flowers.

I could have ordered a bouquet online for the sake of simplicity.

But I preferred the expertise of a real live human being instead.

As the Vice President of the Reckless Order MC, I had the privilege of senior rank. If I didn’t want to run errands, I could delegate the task to a Prospect, or another club member instead. And God knows I loved putting those dumbasses to good use.

But the club didn’t have any Prospects at the moment. And I didn’t trust my brothers to get this shit done properly. Knowing them, I would send them out for a bouquet and they would return with one measly carnation. Or a wilted, mangled handful of weeds that they swiped from the side of the road.

As I stepped into the shop, a wave of floral scent greeted me.

Roses and lilies. Lavender and honeysuckle.

Jasmine and gardenias. Fairy lights criss-crossed the ceiling with a twinkly golden glow like constellations.

Every shelf, every table, every available surface was full to bursting with flowers and plants in every shape, size, and hue.

I must have stood out like a sore thumb in my heavy biker boots, jeans, and black leather cut among all the pastel colors and delicate petals.

A bell chimed over the door, signaling my arrival.

The soft whisper of footsteps emanated off to my right, and a woman appeared, carrying a bundle of plump, fragrant peonies.

Her strawberry blonde hair was pinned back in a French twist, with a few wispy strands curling around her face.

She blinked wide green eyes at me as a faint splash of color darkened her cheeks.

And she was tall. Nearly as tall as me, at six-foot-two.

“Hi,” she said, a little breathless. Juggling the flowers into the crook of one arm, she held out her hand. “I’m Lena Holbrook, owner of The Bellflower. Can I help you with anything?”

When I grasped her extended hand, her skin was cool and silky smooth. Her nails were painted the same demure pink as the peonies she carried. A spark of attraction jolted up my spine at the contact.

I might be over the hill and going gray. But I wasn’t blind. Lena Holbrook was a beauty who had captivated my attention.

“Reuben Calhoun,” I replied. “Everyone just calls me Ironside.”

I didn’t release her hand, and she made no move to let go either. Her blush was turning redder by the second, staining her cheeks, blooming down her neck.

“I dropped by to pick up some flowers,” I added. “But I think I already found the prettiest one.”

Lena blushed scarlet to the roots of her hair and sputtered a nervous little laugh. She pulled her hand away, fiddling with the peonies.

“Well, you’re certainly a charmer, aren’t you?”

“I just call it like I see it.”

Lena flicked a quick glance at me, curious, but not bold enough to return my flirtation. Her throat worked as she swallowed hard. Then she turned away, resolutely focused on arranging the peonies in a vase of water along a shelf already brimming with flowers.

“We have an excellent selection to choose from,” she said in a well-practiced professional tone. “Are these flowers for a girlfriend? A wife? A mother?”

“Family friend,” I replied, even though her back was still facing me. “She just had her second baby—a healthy little girl.”

My club brother, Tarzan, and his wife, Keely, had welcomed their second child into the world only a few days ago. Theodora “Dot” Gerard looked just like her mama, and she was guaranteed to have her daddy wrapped around her little finger in no time.

“Oh, I have just the thing,” Lena said with delight.

She picked a path through the labyrinth of the shop with ease, plucking flowers here and there and rattling off their names as she went. Baby’s breath and delphiniums, daisies and lisianthus.

I didn’t hear a word she said though. My gaze was glued to the sway of her hips as she weaved between tables, potted plants, shelves of knick knacks, and displays of flower arrangements.

Her modest lavender-colored blouse was breezy but buttoned up to the throat. No chance of an indecent flash of cleavage. And her skirt hem fell below the knee, proper and professional.

But her curves stretched the fabric just tight enough to provide a tempting glimpse of what she hid underneath those clothes.

Abruptly, Lena turned around, presenting a flawless bouquet in shades of pink, white, and freckled with yellow.

I snapped my gaze up, hoping she hadn’t caught me staring.

Too late. She definitely noticed.

The tips of her ears turned beet red.

And I couldn’t stop the smirk that spread across my lips.

It seemed the attraction that had sparked here was mutual.

If I had to guess, I estimated Lena was probably in her thirties.

Which would put her about twenty years younger than me, give or take.

It seemed the age gap didn’t deter either of us.

Two months ago, my club teased me about my bachelorhood, taking bets that I would be the next one among them to get married, or remain single to my grave. They were split almost evenly down the middle—half of them believed I would marry, the other half had their doubts.

What they didn’t know was that I almost got married once. Back in my twenties—what felt like a lifetime ago. When it fell through, it gutted me. And I never gave marriage another thought again.

But friendly flirtation and sex were always on the table. And Lena was certainly someone that I could enjoy having dinner with.

I’d like to see how many orgasms I could wring out of her, too.

Lena cleared her throat and squared her shoulders, fixing a customer service smile in place.

“What do you think about these?”

I didn’t look at the flowers she indicated. My gaze was locked on her face. A beat of silence settled over us and Lena bit her lower lip, shifting in place. That delicious blush crept across her cheeks again.

There was something about a woman’s blush that unleashed a primal side of me.

A blush like that was an appetizer. It could lead to more things—a kiss, a moan, a desperate whimper.

Please please please, just let me come. Curiosity tugged at the back of my mind, making me wonder how far that pretty pink color would spread.

I took a step closer.

Lena retreated, bumping against the counter.

Thank God the shop was empty and we were alone in here. Sliding the bouquet out of her arms, I set it aside. She didn’t even make a single peep of protest. Then I took her hand, sheltering it in my palms.

“What flowers would you recommend if I wanted to ask a lady out to dinner?” I said.

Lena blew out a breath, pressing herself back against the counter. My grip on her hand was light and easy to escape. But she made no effort to pull away.

“Well, it…um…I mean, it really depends on the woman,” Lena stammered. “What…what does she like?”

Without breaking eye contact, I lifted her hand, turning her wrist up. I pressed a kiss there, feeling the fluttering of her pulse against my lips. Her breath caught in her throat, and her free hand gripped the edge of the counter for dear life.

“Judging by the scent of her perfume,” I said. “My guess is that she likes roses. But you’re the expert here. Correct me if I’m wrong.”

“Oh,” Lena exhaled in disbelief. “You…you mean me. You’re talking about me.”

I laughed softly at how flustered she was.

“What color?” I prompted.

She blinked at me, fighting to get some air into her lungs.

“Wh-what?”

“When it comes to roses, what color is your favorite?”

“Oh, I…” Lena shook her head. “I couldn’t possibly choose. They come in so many beautiful shades and they’re all gorgeous.”

“If I gave you a dozen roses in a dozen different colors, would you have dinner with me?” I asked.

Her lips parted with surprise. She floundered for a moment, then released her grip on the counter and pressed a hand to her chest.

“I’m…I’m incredibly flattered, but you’re a customer and I have to be professional—”

“Come on,” I coaxed. “There’s no one around. You can break the rules. I won’t tell.”

Lena chewed her lower lip in thought. Was she searching for an excuse to let me down easy? Her fingers fiddled restlessly with the button on her blouse’s collar. And her eyes betrayed the desire she couldn’t put into words.

Before she got a chance to speak, the bell over the door chimed again. A herd of women in their twenties paraded into the shop, chattering and laughing. Our private conversation wasn’t private anymore, and Lena had to get back to work.

I leaned in, taking a deep breath of her faintly floral perfume.

“Think about it,” I whispered in her ear. “I’ll drop in tomorrow for your answer.”

Then I grazed my lips against her cheek in a butterfly kiss before I released her hand. After paying for Keely’s bouquet, I cast Lena one final glance. A shy little smile spread across her lips before she covered her mouth with her hand and turned away.

Tomorrow couldn’t come soon enough.