Midnight In Ravens Ridge (The Ravens Ridge Riders)

Chapter 1

Chapter One

My phone buzzes on the desk, and I lift it to see Tucker before putting it back, face down beside me.

The door from the shop opens, and JT steps in, taking up the entire opening before slapping down the plastic sleeve with keys in it on the desk.

My brows pinch when I lift it, and I whine, “No. You have to check him out this time. I can’t!”

“Are you kidding me?”

“No. He’s a weirdo. J, he bought me dead lady perfume.”

He scowls. “What?”

“Nothing, don’t worry about it. Just do me this one favor, pretty please.” Clasping my hands in front of me, I bat my lashes and add, “I’ll owe you one.”

He groans but moves behind the desk as Mr. Watson approaches the glass door.

“Thank you. Thank you. Thank you,” I say, scrambling through the door to the back.

It just barely closes when the bell chimes in the waiting area.

It’s a little pathetic to be hiding from a customer at my job, but this guy really gives me the heebie jeebies.

I didn’t think anything of him at first. But he always tells me how much my copper strands remind him of his dead wife. Then, he bought me a bottle of her favorite perfume for Christmas.

Talk about creepy.

I promptly regifted it. Let someone else smell like the dead lady.

Standing with my ear pressed to the door between the shop and the clubhouse, I listen as JT checks him out before saying, “Have a happy New Year.”

The bell above the door dings again.

Thank God!

I’ve got about a hundred things to do before this party tonight.

JT’s already headed back to the garage as I enter into the waiting area again.

“Thanks again!” I shout just as the swinging door snaps closed.

After closing the appointment book on the old beat-up desk, I slip it into the drawer.

I think I could close this place up with my eyes shut as long as I’ve been working here.

Today was nuts.

It always is this time of year between being closed on Christmas and again tomorrow for New Years Day. Normally, I’d be exhausted, but instead, anticipation thrums under my skin.

My boots tap against the black-and-white tile as I scurry across the waiting room to the front door. Turning the lock, I stare through the white Ravens Ridge Auto lettering into the parking lot.

Taillights shine in the darkness as Mr. Watson drives away with his four brand-new tires. That’s the third time he’s had it in the shop in the last couple of months.

The light above the garage flickers, and I make a mental note to tell one of the boys to change it before turning back to the counter.

After picking up the remote to the television in the corner, I push the button three times, then smack it on my hand, before it finally turns off.

The damn thing’s a piece of shit. Honestly, no one really watches it anyway nowadays.

They just scroll on their phones. We could probably just get rid of the stupid thing, but it’s one of those things that’s always been here.

I toss the remote down on the desk, then kick off the lights before heading through the swinging metal door and into the back of the shop where the clubhouse is.

When I moved here with my mom during my freshman year of high school, everyone in town warned me to stay away from the Ravens Ridge Riders. They said the Riders were dangerous, and wherever they go, death and mayhem follow.

Luckily for me, I’ve never been good at doing what I’m told. By the time I was twenty, they’d become my family.

They get a bad rap, but they’re not bad men. Don’t get me wrong, they do bad shit sometimes, but they take care of those they love, and they’ve been really good to me.

I started hanging around, and they kind of just took me in. The president at the time figured if I was going to be here anyway, he might as well give me a job and hired me to work the desk.

That was five years ago.

I waltz across the dim room and flip the switch behind the mahogany bar.

The clubhouse comes to life—pool tables line the back wall, the Ravens Ridge Riders sign lights up in red above the shelves of liquor bottles, and round high-top tables scatter the center.

The bike and cut that belonged to the club’s founder, Tank, sits on a pedestal against the wall, illuminated from above.

His son’s is on display in the backroom.

I’ve often wondered where they’ll put Gabe’s years from now.

“Damn, you’ve been busy today.” Colette beams, strolling in from the external door.

I came back here every break I had today to tidy up for tonight because I knew I’d have my work cut out for me when I got off.

Colette and I took over planning and prepping for the annual New Years Eve party a couple years ago after the boys damn near burnt down the clubhouse with a fireworks display.

Gabe and JT have been permanently banned from the party planning committee and anything involving pyrotechnics.

“Shit! Look at you, ma’am!” I gesture up and down dramatically to her all-black outfit. She grins, placing her matching Prada purse on the bar top.

You’d never guess she was almost fifty. Her long legs and slim frame along with the soft blonde waves add to her graceful aura, but she’s a pit bull underneath all of that. Especially, when it involves her boys.

Honestly, all of that is probably why her husband was wholly obsessed with her.

I would be too.

“The place was a mess. I figured a head start wouldn’t hurt.”

She pulls the top half of her shoulder length hair back before rattling off a list of things that still need to get done, including stocking the bar.

An hour later, I’m dumping the last bag of ice in the chest when Colette says, “Where the hell have you been? You were supposed to be helping.”

I spin to find her across the room, wrapping her arms around her son.

Gabe flicks his ocean eyes at me from over her shoulder. He gets those pretty baby-blues from her, along with his honey-blond hair that rests just above his shoulders, and that annoying charm.

Where his dad was all business all the time, Gabe’s… well, he’s Gabe.

He releases her to swagger toward me.

We’ve had the perfect friends-with-benefits situation on and off for years. It just works for us.

I have commitment issues, and well… Gabe just has issues in general when it comes to women.

He’s a mess.

You can tell him I said that.

As the president of the Riders, he’s practically a celebrity in Ravens Ridge. Most people are afraid of him, but there isn’t a woman in town who doesn’t want to sleep with him.

Most of them have actually.

I guess I’m one of them, but where they all dream of becoming his ol’ lady, I’m good with just a quick fuck with no strings.

I know what a pain in the ass he is.

“Don’t you dress up nice?” I smirk as he approaches.

He’s changed out of the navy-blue work coveralls and into a black button-up.

“I undress pretty nice too.” He winks.

I roll my eyes as he wraps a muscular, tattooed arm around my shoulders. “Not interested.”

He scowls, tilting his head to look down at me. “Are you still dating that douchebag?”

Swatting his chest, I squeal, “He’s a nice guy!”

“Whatever you say,” he says, pulling a pack of cigarettes from his pocket on his way to the door.

“Hey! You’re supposed to be helping!” Colette shouts.

He pops one between his lips and mumbles, “I’ll be right back.”

Just before people start filtering in, I run to the back to freshen up.

There’s a locker room at the end of the hall where we all keep our shit while we’re at work.

After grabbing my things, I head to the women’s bathroom just down the hall from the clubhouse.

I was hoping to have time to head home before the party, but I brought everything with me just in case—deodorant, wipes, makeup, dry shampoo, all the essentials.

Once I no longer look like I’ve been working at an auto shop all day, I slip into my glittery, emerald-green mini dress.

It’s the perfect contrast to my fair skin and has a slit that sits high on my hip, showing off my long legs.

I have to do that little wiggle thing to get the zipper up all the way in the back, but I manage.

My heels won’t be on for long, but I slide them on anyway and trot back to the clubhouse.

This time when I enter the room, people are starting to filter in and something starts to buzz under my skin.

The clubhouse is one of my favorite places in the world—the smell of smoke and alcohol, music blaring overhead, someone breaking at one of the pool tables—it’s like being home.

When I’m here, I’m free. No one looks at me like I don’t belong.

“God, do you ever have a bad hair day?” Nik teases, running her fingers through my waves.

All the other girls will be in fancy New Years Eve clubbing outfits, but Nik looks like she’s dressed for a grunge-themed party in someone’s basement, right down to her Doc Martens boots that I’m not sure she ever takes off.

Her boyfriend, Shane, is a member and one of Gabe’s closest friends.

“I love the pink!” I gesture to the ends of her pale-blonde hair that were purple just last week.

“Thanks!” She shrugs. “I needed a change.”

“Where’s Shane?”

“He’s coming.” She scrunches up her nose, and her lip curls. “Gabe stopped him outside.”

Gabe used to date Nik’s best friend, who’s also Shane’s sister. It’s a long story, but basically, it ended badly. Eventually, Shane forgave him, but Nik has not.

The girl can hold one hell of a grudge.

“What about you? Where’s uh…” She winces. “Shit. What’s his name?”

“Tucker. He’s supposed to be coming later.”

“Oh cool! How are things?”

My voice pitches up an octave. “Fine, I guess.”

“Uh-oh.” Her brows lift, and she tucks a piece of hair behind her ear.

“What?”

“Nothing.” She throws her hands up defensively. “I just know what that means.”

I lift a brow, coaxing her to continue.

“You’re gonna break up with him, aren’t you?”

I met him at a club party a few months ago when he patched into the northern chapter of the Riders. He was charming and handsome, and it didn’t take me long to fall right into bed with him.

It was great at first, and I do really like him, but he’s more serious about me than I am about him.

Committing to someone else isn’t something I’m interested in. That’s how you lose yourself, and I quite like who I am.

“He dropped the L-bomb,” I say, lowering my voice. “We were watching a movie and he just… wrapped an arm around me and blurted it out.” At Nik’s grimace, I groan. “I don’t even know if he realizes he said it, but I wanted to puke, and it’s all I can think about now.”

Her eyes widen. “Oh, shit. I’m sorry, Lil.”

“I like him, but damn. It’s not that serious.”

She winces. “I think it is for him.”

An exasperated exhale leaves me. “I need a drink,” I mumble as Nik laughs, following me to the bar.

The bartender, Kara, smiles as we approach. “Slacker.”

Nik works at the bar we hired the bartenders from. They wanted her to work tonight, too, but she nearly pissed herself laughing. She said it’d be a cold day in hell before she’d serve the boys in the club. I don’t blame her. They’d have given her shit all night.

Nik flips her off and narrows her eyes. “If you make me one of those drinks you made last night, I’ll tell the boys to tip bigger.”

Kara huffs a laugh, then turns to me. She’s tall and lean with tattoos up both arms and dark curly hair thrown up in a bun on the top of her head. Her eyes linger on me for a moment before a smile tugs at her lips. “What can I get you?”

“Whiskey sour, please.”

“You got it.” She doesn’t take her eyes off me right away, taking two steps backward, then winking and busying herself making both our drinks.

Nik huffs. “Ignore her. She’s my cousin, and I love her, but she flirts with literally everyone. Honestly, she might be worse than that idiot Gabe.”

When Kara slides our drinks to us, Nik flashes her a wide grin. “Love you!”

“Uh-huh.” Kara flicks her gaze to Nik for only a second. My cheeks catch fire when she turns her attention back to me and sucks her teeth. “Have a good night.”

I swallow the lump forming in my throat. “Uh… yeah. You too.”

Nik rolls her eyes and mumbles under her breath, “You’re not her type.”

Kara chuckles, shaking her head as she gets back to tending the bar.

I’ve never been with a woman in a romantic sense, but I’ve slept with a few of them. I wouldn’t say I’m opposed to the idea, but I’ve just always found myself in relationships with men.

I mingle as the place fills. It’s a combination of members, their friends and family, and the other chapters. They throw parties here all the time, but New Years Eve is always the biggest.

I’ve just ordered my third drink when an arm snakes around my waist. I know it’s him before I turn around because I’d know that scent anywhere. It’s spicy and woody and incredibly sexy.

Tucker Bennett is the man of my dreams—or he would be if I dreamt of settling down anytime soon.

“Fucking hell, Lily. Are you trying to kill me in that dress?” His deep timbre rattles my bones as his warm breath splays across the shell of my ear.

I peek over my shoulder at him. His chocolate hair’s slicked back under a cowboy hat. No matter if he’s on a bike in a leather cut, or on a horse with a cowboy hat, this man exudes sex.

But this time, there’s no flutter in my stomach, no heat creeping up my neck.

He winks, and I spin to face him.

“Hello, handsome.” My eyes lock with his whiskey gaze, and I rest my palms on his chest.

His hand finds its way to the small of my back like it always does, and normally that would have me wanting to pull him into the bathroom to rip off his clothes, but it would seem the dreaded L-word killed my sex drive for tonight.

He looks over me to place his drink order—bourbon neat—before pinning his attention back on me. “How was work?”

I smile up at him. “Busy, but good.”

“Tucker.” Gabe nods as he leans his elbows on the bar and gestures to Kara for another drink.

Tucker hasn’t really said anything about Gabe, but I don’t think he’s a huge fan.

Our arrangement can be difficult to understand.

Most people are inherently jealous by nature.

It’s hard to be around someone you know has seen your boyfriend or girlfriend naked, but there’s nothing to be jealous of, and no matter who I’m with, Gabe will always be my best friend.

We’re a package deal.

It probably doesn’t help that Gabe is this chapters president, so Tucker can’t be a total dick.

“Abbott,” Tucker mumbles, holding out his hand.

Gabe takes it, his eyes flicking to me for a moment. “You forget the rest of your clothes at home?”

I glare at him. “Must have left them with your sense. If you ever do find that, please let me know.”

Tucker’s hand trails lower until it’s resting on my ass. I catch myself adjusting his hand back up to my waist.

“You know, if that’s how you talk to women, it’s no wonder none of them stick around.” I shoot him a smartass grin.

Gabe straightens, taking his drink as Kara slides it to him, but a smile threatens to spread across his lips.

“I save all my sweet talkin’ for you, Red.” He nudges me with his elbow before stalking away.

Tucker’s jaw clenches hard as he grinds his molars.