Loyal (Lotus MC: San Antonio #3)

Prologue

This cannot be happening.

That’s my only thought as I look down at my flat tire. Of course, the one night I have off of work, and without my daughter, is the night my car has a flat.

Pulling out my phone, I send a text to Gina, my coworker and best friend, letting her know I am not going to make it to the bar.

Gina: Want me to give you a ride?

Before I can answer her, I hear it. The telltale sign of a motorcycle.

Ever since the new neighbor moved in, I have been hearing it more and more.

The man is gorgeous. Dark brown hair that hangs down to his ears.

Tanned skin for days. Then there are those bright green eyes that look like they can see into your soul.

Add in the motorcycle jacket, and I swear James Dean has nothing on this guy.

He has to be in his early twenties, which makes me feel guilty when I think of how much older than him I likely am. I have to have a decade on him. Still, it doesn’t stop me from staring discreetly as he pulls into his driveway.

It doesn’t hurt that when I see him, my body wakes up.

I haven’t had sex in so long that I have no idea how I would even handle a man like my neighbor.

My ex-husband was a simple man. He liked missionary and only stayed in the game long enough for him to get off.

I often waited for him to fall asleep before I would finish myself off next to him in bed.

What would I even know about dating a biker like him?

“Hey,” he calls out.

I give him a wave like I always do, turning back toward my car. I expect him to go inside. It’s our routine. I don’t even know his name, that’s how often we talk.

Yet today is different. He moves closer, startling me when he comes to stand next to me.

“A flat, huh? You got a spare?” he asks.

I nod. “I do. I haven’t gotten that far yet. I was canceling my plans.”

He moves toward my trunk, waiting for me to pop it, so I do.

“Big date?” he asks.

“No. I was meeting my friend. I already canceled on her.”

Looking back down at my phone, I see I have two more texts from her.

Gina: You haven’t answered. Is everything okay?

Gina: If you don’t answer, I’m coming anyway. We watch too many true crime documentaries for me to not think you’ve bene taken by your killer.

I quickly text her back, using our code.

Me: Jalapeno. I’m fine. My neighbor came over to help.

Gina: The hot young one?

I sneak a look at him as he pulls my spare from the trunk and moves toward the flat tire.

“It shouldn’t take me but a few minutes. You don’t have to wait out here with me. It’s hot as fuck.”

“You are,” I blurt out, then clear my throat. “It is. Very hot, but I will stay. You are doing me a favor after all.”

He nods and gets to work as I answer Gina.

Me: The very one. He is changing my tire so I can meet you after all.

Gina: Absolutely not. You are going to invite him out as a thank you and bang that guy into next Tuesday.

Me: He’s a decade younger than me.

Gina: He is legal, and if he is willing, there is nothing wrong with it. You have to start living your life sooner or later.

I don’t answer her, giving the man my attention.

“I’m Sami, by the way,” I tell him.

He looks over his shoulder, giving me a smile.

“Loyal.”

“That’s an interesting name. Where did you get it?” I kneel down next to him, watching as his hands move.

“It’s a road name from my club. They gave it to me for being loyal to the club above all else.”

“So you have a real name?”

“Sure do,” he says as he pulls the tire off the car.

“Do I get to know it? Or am I supposed to guess?” I ask.

He turns and looks at me. “A biker only gives his real name when he finds the one he plans to spend the rest of his life with. That, or if he gets arrested. They have some obsession with government names down at the police department.”

I giggle, then chastise myself for it. I sound like a fucking schoolgirl. He doesn’t seem to mind, though.

“Those pesky cops,” I joke, watching as he checks my tire.

“This looks like a knife sliced through it. How the hell did you manage something like this? You have any enemies?” He sounds serious now.

I shake my head. “No way. I drove by the construction over on Broadway. I even thought to myself that the place was a mess. I probably ran over some debris.”

He accepts my answer, changing my tire quickly. When he is done, he stands, so I do too, but I stumble a bit from my legs growing numb. He catches me easily.

“Easy there, Grace.”

I frown. “My name is Sami.”

He laughs. “Grace as in graceful? It was a joke. Sorry.”

I shake my head. “No need to be. Thank you for changing my tire. My friend canceled on me. I was going out to dinner. Want to join me? My treat as a thank you.”

He shakes his head. “Hell no. No man in his right mind would let a beautiful woman like you pay for a meal. Not unless he is a loser.”

He called me beautiful.

That has the butterflies coming to life in my stomach.

“Well, could I make you dinner then? I feel wrong not doing something for you. I mean, unless you want money. I can pay you too,” I rush out, realizing I may have read this all wrong.

“I don’t need your money. I didn’t do this for a reward.”

“Why did you do it then?” I ask, unable to stop myself.

He smirks. “A beautiful damsel in distress? How could I resist?”

“That’s the second time you’ve called me beautiful. You do know I’m at least a decade older than you,” I point out, feeling the need to be up-front.

“I’m twenty-one. How old are you?”

My stomach drops. Shit, I really am a decade older than him.

“I’m thirty-two, about to turn thirty-three.”

He shrugs. “Age is only a number as long as you are two consenting adults. So how about that dinner you promised?”

I have a decision to make. A very important one.

Little did I know, it would change my life forever.