Wild Heart Mountain: Wild Riders MC #4-6

Chapter 1

MAGGIE

My hand shakes as I place the plate of chocolate-coated strawberries on the bar counter.

Arlo gives me an encouraging look that makes my insides flutter. I look away quickly, hoping he thinks my nerves are because of the dessert I’m presenting and not the fact that his luminous smile is turned on me.

“Let’s give them a taste.”

My attention snaps to Travis as he snags one of the strawberries and stuffs it in his mouth. He’s the boss of the Wild Taste Bar and Restaurant and the person I have to impress if I want to get the pastry chef position once Patrick retires at the end of the year.

I hold my breath as he chews. His brows knit together and then raise in surprise.

“There’s chili in these?”

I nod. “A little, to offset the sweetness.”

“Mmmm…” Travis nods appreciatively. “These are good.” He reaches for another one, and Kendra slaps his hand out of the way.

“Leave some for the rest of us.”

She’s the only one who can get away with playfully slapping the boss. He picks one up anyway and brings it to her lips.

Kendra opens her mouth to receive the strawberry and Travis pulls it away, just out of her reach. They both giggle and I look away, my ears turning pink at the intimacy of the moment.

Arlo catches my gaze and rolls his eyes heavenwards, making me smile. He works the bar and makes no secret of how sick he is of seeing Kendra and Travis all over each other since they got together.

I think it’s sweet, the boss and the head waitress.

“What did you say these are called?” Arlo asks.

The blush spreads up my neck, and heat blooms in my cheeks.

“They’re um... Strawberry Sin.”

Arlo’s eyes go wide, and a smile curls up his lips. “They taste like sin too.”

As he says it he bites into the strawberry, breaking the chocolate seal with his teeth.

My eyes dart to his lips. Lips so full they look indecent on a man.

Lips so full they haunt my dreams as I imagine what they taste like, strawberry and chocolate with a hint of chili and cardamom.

Sweetness and heat and something manly and exotic, which was my inspiration for the dessert. My knees go weak and my blush deepens.

“I need to get back to the kitchen and clean up.”

I scurry away before the sight of Arlo enjoying the dessert that he was the inspiration for causes me to melt right onto the restaurant floor.

When I’m safely back in the kitchen, I lean so my forearms rest on the silver bench and let the coolness of the metal calm my heated skin.

All bartenders are terrible flirts, I tell myself. He likes my desserts and that’s all.

Through the round window of the swinging kitchen door that leads to the restaurant, I watch as my three colleagues enjoy the rest of my strawberry sins.

I’ve been working at the Wild Taste Bar and Restaurant for three months now, and any normal person would be out there chatting and laughing with their colleagues.

The last customer left a half hour ago, and while they’ve been out there enjoying their drinks, I asked if I could present Travis with a dessert I’ve been working on.

I should be out there socializing, but I prefer the cool steadiness of the kitchen. Especially after hours when everyone else has gone home.

My phone rings, and I stifle a groan when I see it’s Mom calling.

I contemplate slipping it back in my pocket, but I’ve already missed two calls from her today. She’ll get frantic if I don’t pick up.

“Hi Mom.”

“Maggie!” She screeches so loud that I pull the phone away from my ear. “I couldn’t get hold of you.”

“I’m working, Mom. Didn’t you get my text?”

“You know I find it hard to read those things. Call me old-fashioned, but I prefer to talk.”

Old-fashioned is definitely the word I’d use to describe my mother. And if this call is anything like the daily calls I get, I brace myself for what I’m in for.

“You work too hard, sweetheart. Make sure you leave time for yourself to have some fun.”

I lick a bit of chocolate off my hand and try not to roll my eyes.

“Working is fun for me. I’ve invented a new dessert.”

I try to sound upbeat, but as usual Mom pays zero interest to my professional life.

“You’ll never meet anyone if you’re working all the time, MeMe.”

She uses my pet name from childhood and the stern but kindly tone that my mother has perfected.

It’s incomprehensible to my mother that I would put my career ahead of meeting a suitable husband. This is usually where I tell her I don’t want to meet anyone, and she gasps like she’s having a heart attack. But I can’t do it today.

We’ve had this same conversation for the last two years, since I went to culinary school and told her I wanted to be a pastry chef.

“And your uterus isn’t getting any younger, sweetheart. Fertility starts to decline after thirty, you know.”

The last is said in a whisper as if someone might hear her down the phone lines.

“Mom, that’s not really true…”

“It is,” she protests. “I read it in a magazine. These women putting their careers first…”

She launches into a tirade spoken in hushed but disapproving tones about ‘these women’ when what she really means is me.

“Mom…” I try to cut in to remind her that I’m only twenty-three, but as always, I’m no match for my mother once she gets on a roll.

It’s been a week of early double shifts, and the tiredness behind my eyes shifts to a full blown headache as I listen to my mom drone on. I press my fingers to my forehead and close my eyes, knowing from experience that it’s best to let her run on until she’s finished.

I love my mother, but it’s the same lecture every week. Her first reaction when I told her I wanted to be a chef was how difficult the odd hours would be for raising a family.

I hadn’t thought about that aspect of working life before. I just wanted to choose a career doing something I loved. Mom brings it up so often that I guess it’s true.

As Mom drones on about the declining health of my ovaries, I watch Arlo through the window.

He’s chatting easily with Travis and Kendra, and a pang of longing jolts my insides.

I shake it off. Mom’s made it abundantly clear to me that if I want to be a pastry chef I’ll never have a family.

That’s why I don’t date. Even if the ridiculously handsome and charming bartender had an interest in small, tubby shy girls, there wouldn’t be any point in dating him.

My head aches, and I want to get off this call with Mom and find out what they really thought of my dessert and if Travis will put it on the menu. If only there was a way to get Mom off my back once and for all.

“I want a promise from you that you’ll go out and make an effort to meet someone. Even Layla’s got her own family now.”

Mum’s referring to my best frenemy. Layla’s from the same town as me and went to the same culinary school.

Layla opened her own cafe a few years ago and I’m always hearing about how she still made time to meet a man and start a family.

I’m happy for Layla, I really am but running a cafe that’s open in the daytime is different to being a pastry chef at a restaurant.

“She just had another little girl. You need to get yourself out there, the way Layla did.”

My mom doesn’t get it at all. There’s a reason I took a job in the middle of a mountain. Here, I can focus on my career with no distractions. There’s a bar in Wild that I’ve been to with Kendra once when she dragged me out. But hanging out with strangers is not my thing.

“Put on a short skirt, sweetheart. Don’t be afraid of those thighs you inherited from me. Some men love chunky girls. Look at your dad!”

She cackles like we’ve shared a secret, and my belly churns as I try not to think about my dad checking out my mom’s thighs. Never mind the reference to my short stumpy legs. I’m immune to Mom’s thoughtless comments by now.

When I’m not experimenting with new dessert recipes or thinking about new dessert recipes, I’m watching cooking shows and, on my days off, visiting every restaurant and cafe in the area to see what they’ve got on the menu.

I may be shy, but I’m focused and determined.

And I will not promise my mom that I’ll go to a bar to look for men.

“I’m not going out to a bar, Mom.”

“Oh honey…”

There’s disappointment in her voice and she takes a deep breath, but before she can start the next lecture, I jump in.

“I already met someone.”

I clamp my mouth shut as soon as I say the words. There’s silence on the other end of the line.

“Say that again?”

“I…uh… met someone.” I swallow hard, hoping she doesn’t hear the lie in my voice.

“You’ve met a boy?”

“Ya-ha.” My palms start to sweat. I’ve never been a good liar, and Mom is suspicious as hell.

“Are you going steady? Is he your boyfriend?”

My eyes go to Arlo leaning casually against the bar, a smile peeping out from his thick beard. “Yup. I got me a boyfriend.”

“Oh MeMe. That’s fantastic,” my mother gushes. I wish she’d been this happy when I told her I got into culinary school or when I won the creative dessert award.

“What’s he look like? Is he hunky?”

“Umm…” My gaze slides over Arlo, and I take a step closer to the door so I can see all of him through the small round window. His head is tilted back in a laugh, the deep rumble of his chuckle reaching me through the kitchen door and doing weird things to my belly.

“Um, he’s tall and he’s got a beard.”

“A beard!” Mom exclaims. “I guess that’s what you young folk are all into. But I wouldn’t have looked twice at your father if he had a beard. What’s his name.”

“Arl…” I start to say and snap my mouth shut just in time. My fantasy almost got away from me, but I’m not giving out Arlo’s name to my mother. She’d probably look him up online.

“What’s that honey?”

“Allan.” I wince.

“Allan? Not a very romantic name, but you can’t help that. Where did you meet him?”

“Umm…” My brain freezes and I regret even starting this lie, but I’m in too deep to back out now. The best lies have a grain of truth, so I decide to stick to some semblance of realness. Besides, she’ll never know. “He works at the restaurant.”

“He’s not a chef, is he? Unsociable hours. It’ll hard when you have a family.”

“Mom…”

“Oh, I know, honey, I’m just so excited. Thinking about my grandbabies. Jim!”

She calls out to my dad, making me wince and wondering if I’ve just given her more fuel for the grandbaby pressure.

“Jim! MeMe’s got a boyfriend!”

Dad mumbles something in the background. I don’t know how my softspoken dad puts up with my mother. I’ve never met two such different people. Mom’s loud and talks non-stop, while Dad’s quiet and observant. I know which one I take after.

“We’ll come visit this weekend and meet Allan.”

Wait, what?

My attention snaps back to my mother. “You don’t have to do that.”

“Of course we do. My little girl’s got her first boyfriend. We have to meet this Allan and see if he’s good enough for you.”

Oh shit.

My palms sweat, and panic sets in.

“Um, we’re both working this weekend. Double shifts.”

“That’s alright, honey. We’ll look around the mountains. We’ve been meaning to visit and see the place. There’s some good shopping in Hope, I hear. Hey, does Allan fish? Should Dad bring his rod?”

Oh my god, this got out of control real fast. My palm goes to my forehead as I try to backtrack.

“Um, I don’t know. Please don’t come. It’s too soon…”

But as usual Mom barrels over me.

“We’ve been meaning to come and check out the Wild Taste Restaurant. Dad’s worried that it’s run by a MC.”

“But…” I try to protest that the Wild Riders are ex-military and not into anything sketchy, but Mom cuts me off.

“Oh, I know what you’re going to say, but your dad wants to check it out for himself. See what the club that employs you is all about.”

I stride to the kitchen door and peer out through the round window. Arlo sees me and holds up the last strawberry.

“It’s good,” he mouths, and my stomach does a little flip.

“I gotta go,” says Mom. “We’ll see you Friday, MeMe. You and Allan.”

I press my head against the door and close my eyes.

What have I done?