Chapter 4
ROMY
"Yeah, bro. She's in the lake. Yeah, yeah. All good. We can stay. Okay."
He hung up.
"So here's what's happening. Two of my brothers…”
"So you've got brothers?" I said. "Hmm. Any of them single?"
He shook his head. "A few of them, actually. But they're club brothers."
I must have looked confused because he added, "Like, we don't share parents. We're just one big biker family where I call my friends brothers."
"Nice," I said. "So, like a motorcycle club?"
"Exactly. So, as I was saying, two of them… Chopper and Jigsaw… will be here with a flatbed to collect your car. They'll take it back to the workshop and get it sorted."
"Chopper and Jigsaw?"
"Yeah." He smiled and waited.
"So these are like club names, right? Like you're Rush not because you rush… maybe you do, but because it's actually your name?"
"Yeah. They're all different. And no, I don't like to rush. I like to take my time and make every moment memorable."
Holy shit. For a big rough biker, this guy had the smooth talk down to a T.
I was hot again. From my face to the other place.
"Chopper. Is that because he rides a chopper, maybe?"
"He does that. And yes, that's how he got his name. He has some of the best choppers in the business."
"So, Jigsaw," I said. "I have one of those at home that I've almost finished."
"Cool. What's it of?"
"An old pickup, hippie era, in Hawaii."
"Extra cool. The pickup, the era, and Hawaii. Been there?"
"No. You?"
"Not yet. I need to find a traveling companion."
I let that one float past before it landed somewhere dangerous.
"So. Jigsaw."
"Yeah. He had a bad accident and couldn't remember who he was. His whole life was about putting the pieces back into the right places as they came back to him, so we called him Jigsaw. And it stuck."
"That's actually really cool. Sad, but cool."
"So," he said, "I still don't know your name."
I felt embarrassed. Here he was doing all he could to help me and he didn't even know that much.
"Romy," I said.
"Nice. I like it."
"I'm glad you approve."
"I approve of everything about you."
I shook my head, smiling. He was going to talk the pants off me. I just knew it.
"So, Romy. I can give you a ride home while they get your car moved."
"Oh, no… I'm good, thanks."
"You're close to here?"
"No, but…"
"You'd prefer an Uber? I can get one if you like."
I felt really bad. Here he was doing everything he could to save me and I was turning down his offer of a ride. Truth be told, I didn't trust myself with my legs and arms wrapped around him. But on the other hand… my first ride on a Harley? That could be exciting.
"I'm sorry. I didn't want to trouble you."
"No trouble at all. And I can drop you off a block away from home if you like. Head in the other direction so I don't see where you live."
This was making me feel even worse. Like he had the plague or was some kind of stalker.
"No, no, no. It's not that. And yes, I would love to ride you." I froze. "I mean ride your bike. I mean ride on the back of your bike. To my place."
Shit, shit, shit. Shut your mouth, Romy, before you put both feet in it.
He grinned but had the decency not to say a word.
"But what about a helmet?"
"I've got one in my saddlebag that should fit you."
Why did he have a helmet in his saddlebag that would fit a woman? Was he married? Did he have a girlfriend? Was he a cheater who thought I was an easy lay?
He dug into his bag and handed me the helmet. It was white, and when I pulled a long blonde hair from inside it, he said, "Not my bike."
I nodded. Someone else's bike with a blonde-haired woman. That made me feel better.
"No Mrs. Rush?" I asked. No use beating around the bush.
“No wife, no girlfriend, no anyone. I'm a clean slate," he added.
"Cool."
Fuck, why did I say that? That was basically announcing great, you're available for me. Maybe I would have to get him to drop me one block from home after all.
We waited until the guys arrived with the flatbed. Rush helped them winch the car out of the water and strap it down.
I got to meet Chopper and Jigsaw too. Two big, likable guys, just like Rush. They didn't make me feel stupid about the lake thing, which I appreciated more than they'd ever know.
Rush told me they had a workshop where they'd get the car fixed and sort out the mechanical problem at the same time. Done by the end of the weekend, he said. And if I needed it, they had a spare I could borrow in the meantime.
I didn't know what I’d done to deserve this. Maybe it was God saying sorry for Jeremy.
I wondered whether Jeremy would come home early from his fishing trip, then pushed that thought out of my mind with the reality that there was no way he was cutting fishing short. Not for me. And not for moving out.
"You ready?" Rush asked, walking up to me after the car was loaded and the flatbed had pulled out of the park.
"As ready as I'm going to be," I told him.
He pulled a rag from the saddlebag and wiped the seat dry, then told me to keep the jacket on so I didn't get cold on the ride back.
"Where to?" he asked.
I gave him my address and he nodded. "I know where that is."
He swung his leg over the bike and it dipped under his weight.
Then he offered me his hand. I took it and climbed on behind him, one leg over, settling into the seat like I'd done this a hundred times.
I hadn't. Not once. But I didn't want to look like it was my first time on the back of a bike, even though my heart was hammering so loud I was sure he could feel it through his back.
"Hold on," he said.
I didn't need to be told twice.
My arms went around his waist and my hands found each other somewhere near his belt. He was solid. Like, ridiculously solid. Not an ounce of softness anywhere. I pressed my chest against his back and told myself it was for safety.
It wasn't.
He kicked the bike to life and the rumble went through me in places I was not prepared for. My thighs tightened against his hips and I pressed in closer, my wet shirt soaking through to his back. If he minded, he didn't show it.
We pulled out of the park and onto the road and the wind hit me, but I wasn't cold. Not even close. His body was a wall of heat and I was plastered against it like a second skin.
Every red light was a gift. Every straight stretch where the engine growled low and he leaned back just slightly into me, a test of my self-control. My cheek was pressed between his shoulder blades and I could smell him.
I closed my eyes and breathed him in.
I thought about how twenty minutes ago I was scared of drowning in a lake and now I was wrapped around a man I barely knew, heading home on the back of a Harley with no car, no boyfriend, and a wet bra showing everything I had to offer.
This was either the worst day of my life or the beginning of something I didn't see coming.
My arms tightened around him.
I hoped he noticed.
Rush
My jacket had obviously fallen open from what I could feel against my back. I didn't care if it blew right off her at that stage. Then I thought… shit, it wasn't even mine. Maybe Hunter wouldn't mind her wearing it, but to lose his patched jacket? That was another matter entirely.
I slowed a little. Just to be safe. That was my story, anyway. The reality was, the longer I had Romy pressed against my back, the better.
Her wet clothes had soaked through my shirt. I could actually feel her pebbled nipples pressed into me. Two hard little points that I couldn't stop thinking about no matter how much I tried. And I wasn't trying.
Her thighs were either side of mine and that short skirt was nowhere to be seen from this angle. It had ridden up the moment she sat astride the bike. I imagined her naked. Because why not take this fantasy to the next level, right?
Her arms were low around my waist and I was thankful my cock was down one leg of my jeans because if it were pointing the other direction, she'd be feeling it by now.
I wriggled occasionally on the seat because it was getting damn uncomfortable with a hard-on and no room to move. I wondered how I'd deal with that by the time we got to her place. Swing a leg off casually? Stand behind the bike? Think about kittens for the last half mile?
I tried to think of other things to take my mind off her.
I really didn't want to.
I couldn't stop thinking about Romy.
As we leaned into the corners, she pressed her face harder into my back.
I was taking the long road to her place. I'd explain it away if she asked, that I wasn't sure of the best route. I knew she'd know. But what the hell. Sometimes you do everything you can for a ride not to end.
And then there we were. Her street. She pointed to a tidy little blue cottage among a row of little boxes that reminded me of the song my mom used to sing to me as a boy.
I pulled into her driveway beside an old Tacoma and I knew.
Jerry had raced home to save his day.
I wondered what he'd think about his ex's current ride.
The fun was about to start.
Romy
My heart dropped when I saw Jeremy's truck. I couldn't believe he'd left fishing for me. And why today? Did he finally feel bad?
I didn't think so.
It would be more about him losing a place to sleep. A convenience. Someone to pay for stuff while he played. Maybe he'd find someone else who was happy to fund his fishing life.
I had already checked out of the relationship. The boat had finally sailed.
He was out the door the moment Rush cut the engine.
He didn't look at me. Instead, he said, "Who the fuck are you?" to Rush.
Rush turned and offered me a hand to help me off the bike. Calm and unhurried. Like Jeremy wasn't even there.
Jeremy really was a fool, but I didn't think he realized quite how much of one until Rush stood up off the Harley.
He held out his hand. "Rush. You must be Jerry."
"Jeremy," he corrected. And when they shook hands, he winced. Rush obviously squeezed a little too hard. Maybe he was sending the fool a silent message.
My messages to him would be anything but silent.
"Let's go inside," Jeremy said.
He reached for my hand and I swatted him away.
He looked at Rush, who was expressionless, sitting on his bike, watching. He looked like a cat ready to pounce at the first sign of trouble, and I thought Jeremy got that. But he was probably confused about why I was climbing off the back of a biker's Harley in wet top and a patched leather vest.
I took off the vest and handed it to Rush, and Jeremy said, "What the fuck."
I knew exactly what he was referring to, but I chose to ignore it.
"Would you like to come in for a drink?" I asked Rush.
"What! No!" Jeremy said in a high-pitched voice.
"Yeah, sure," Rush said. "I wouldn't say no to a hot chocolate."
I almost laughed at that. But I needed Jeremy to know that none of this was a laughing matter.
"You're not coming in," Jeremy said, stepping forward.
He was really pushing his luck. But Rush didn't seem to mind. He was ignoring him like he didn't exist as he got off his bike and followed me up the path. At the door, he took his boots off without being asked.
Jeremy was in hot pursuit.
I pointed to the kitchen and said to Rush, "Help yourself. Mugs are above the kettle."
Jeremy had stopped dead in his tracks. His mouth was open but nothing was coming out.
I pulled my wet top over my head as I walked down the hall.
They'd both see.
Good. And good.
I could hear Jeremy storming up behind me, but I closed the bathroom door and flipped the lock.
What happened on the other side wasn't something I needed to worry about.
Rush wouldn't have a problem. That was for sure.
Rush
I almost felt sorry for Jeremy. Almost. But considering the way he must have treated Romy to get to this place, I really didn't give a fuck.
No harm in rubbing salt in the wound though, so I held up a mug as if to offer him one too.
"Fuck you," he said as he headed down the hall to what must have been a bedroom.
As I boiled the water… I really didn't want hot chocolate, but I was committed now…
Jerry started carrying stuff out of the room and dumping it in the bed of his truck.
Trip after trip. Handfuls of clothes and other belongings thrown into the back like trash.
On his final trip down the hall, he stopped outside the bathroom door and yelled, "Whore. "
I was up out of the seat so fast he froze.
I pointed to the front door and he slunk out. A minute later he'd backed out of the driveway and laid rubber as he left.
Good riddance.
I went down the hall and stood outside the bathroom door. "You okay?"
"Yeah," she said in a small voice. "Has he gone?"
"Yep."
She was running the show now, so I stood for a few seconds and then started to move, giving her the space I was sure she needed.
I heard the click and watched as she cracked the door open.
She had tears in her eyes and she was still in her wet clothes. She turned away from me and I closed the gap, taking the open door as the invitation it was.
"You'll catch a cold," I said.
"Can you run the shower?"
I nodded and stepped past her, opened the screen, and ran the water over my hand until it was the right temperature. Then I turned to her.
"It's ready. You want me to leave?"
"No."