Chapter 2
MARCUS
The warbly notes of Celine Dion blast through the speaker behind the bar as Davis preps for the morning shift.
I usually don’t mind that he has the radio turned up way too loud. The poor kid lost half his hearing, but why the fuck does every station have to play sappy love songs just because it’s fucking Valentine’s Day next week?
“Can you turn that shit off?”
Davis gives a wide grin. “What’s the matter, Wood, not a fan of Celine?”
Not a fan of love more like it, but I’m not going to get into that with Davis. He’s young. He’ll learn in his own time that love is an illusion, and women can’t be trusted.
Davis turns the volume down, thank God, just as Calvin strides in, or Badge as we call him on the road.
His Sheriff’s uniform is crumpled, and there’s dark stubble on his usually smooth jaw.
“Double espresso,” he says to Davis as he leans on the bar with his head in his hands.
“Trouble in town, Sheriff?”
Badge lets out a long sigh. “Just another bachelorette party.”
Davis raises his eyebrows as he slides the steaming espresso cup toward Badge.
“Doesn’t sound too bad, Sheriff.”
Badge eyes the younger man warily. I’m sure to a twenty-something year old breaking up unruly bachelorette parties sounds like a wild time, but Badge is about the same age as me, thirty-four, and just as weary of women.
“They’re wilder than the men some of them,” he says. “And when you’re responsible for the safety of those women on the mountain, it’s no fun at all. Not when half of them are determined to get themselves into some kind of trouble.”
“What was it this time?” I ask with mild amusement.
“They were getting rowdy by the lake. There were complaints from guests at The Lodge. They were so drunk on fruity cocktails not one of them would listen to me.”
I chuckle despite myself, imagining Badge trying to tame a group of drunk women. He’s a good looking guy and probably got propositioned by more than one.
“Had to get Axel to help me escort them back to their rooms. One of them was missing, and we spent the entire goddamn night looking for her. Turned out she’d fallen asleep in a patch of poison ivy.
I’ve just come back from dropping her at the medical center in Hope.
Goddamn bachelorette parties shouldn’t be allowed. ”
I chuckle at my friend and MC brother, but he takes his job seriously. He really does feel responsible for those women.
“Is Prez in?” he asks.
I shake my head. We haven’t seen much of the Prez since his honeymoon. Poor man’s gotten all pussy whipped.
“I’m gonna take a shower upstairs and grab a few hours’ sleep.”
Badge heads off upstairs to the rooms above the bar. Anyone can use them as needed, and for Badge it means not having to trek home between shifts.
I pull out my phone and check the arrival time on the Airbnb sight. Someone called Andreas is arriving in about an hour.
I’ve been renting out the small cabin on my land for the past few months.
I don’t need the income, but I like the company every now and again.
I wonder what this Andreas is into. I like being there when my guests arrive so I can show them where to go for the good fishing spots, or hunting, or just walking if that’s what they’re here for.
The sound of heels clacking on tiles gets my attention.
My head jerks up as a vision of loveliness walks in from the back entrance door. She pauses in the doorway and glances about the place with a slight frown on her face.
“Are you guys open for coffee?”
Her voice is as sweet as her countenance. A black skirt clings to her curvy hips, and a ruffled pale green blouse showcases the rise of her large breasts.
She’s short and curvy, but her heels give her an extra six inches. They’re shiny like she just stepped off a sidewalk in a city instead of wandering into our mountain bar and MC headquarters.
“We don’t open for another hour.” I’ve never seen Davis move so fast, but he’s over the side of the bar and practically salivating on the counter.
I give him a quick back off scowl.
“But I’m sure we can get you a coffee.”
Her eyes dart to mine, and it’s like an arrow hits my chest. I suck in my breath as the air rushes out of the room. She holds my gaze in a way that makes my entire body heat.
My heart thunders to a new beat, and one word rings clear in my head.
Mine.
“What would you like?”
Davis’s voice breaks the spell, and the angel who just walked into our HQ glances over to him. The loss of her eyes on me feels like a cold wind hitting me in the face.
“Double latte with soy milk.” She rattles off her order, and I detect a New York accent. My angel is far away from home, and I’m piqued with curiosity as to what the hell she’s doing here. There’s no car out front.
“How’d you get here?”
Her gaze shifts back to mine, and I notice the dark shadows under them. There’s a little frown creasing her forehead that I long to run my thumb over and smooth out.
“The back door was open,” she explains. “My rental car’s out back.”
She must have driven in the back entrance while I was talking to Badge.
“I thought you’d be open. It’s…” She checks her phone. “After ten.”
I chuckle at her confusion. She must be used to getting anything she likes 24-7
“This isn’t New York.”
Her frown deepens. “How do you know where I’m from?”
My gaze travels lazily up her body from the polished heels to the silk stockings, the tight skirt that restricts movement too much to be any use on a mountain, the carefully ironed blouse with the pretty but useless ruffles on the sleeves and the oversized purse that’s not a backpack, which is what most people carry on the mountain.
“Just a lucky guess.”
She smiles then, and my breath hitches. My New York angel is even more lovely when she smiles. Her blue eyes light up, and the dark smudges under them seem to fade away.
“Am I over-dressed for the mountain?” she teases.
“Just a little.”
Davis hands her a coffee, and she closes her eyes to inhale the scent. As she takes a deep breath she stretches her neck, exposing a pale throat that makes my pulse race. I long to run my tongue up the line of her neck to that sensitive bit behind the ear.
Christ. What’s this woman doing to me? I’ve known her less than five minutes, and I’m already fantasizing about kissing her throat and ripping that ridiculous skirt off her.
I’ve kept away from women for the last twelve years, and for good reason, but one look at this beauty and all reason goes out the window.
“What brings you to Wild Heart Mountain?”
Her eyes flutter open, and she purses her lips together to blow on the hot coffee.
My cock hardens at the sight of her plump lips, thinking about all the things I’d like her to do with her mouth.
“I’m here for work.”
I’ve got no idea what kind of work could bring a New York angel to this side of the mountain. I’m about to ask when she takes a sip of her coffee and moans.
She fucking moans, a soft little sound that has my cock twitching in my suddenly too tight jeans.
“That’s good coffee.”
I slide off the stool, because it’s too uncomfortable to keep sitting.
Her eyes follow me as I stand up and widen as she takes in my full height. Yup, I’m a big bastard, and next to me my angel seems tiny. She’s all short and curvy, and even with the killer heels, I tower above her.
She swallows, and her gaze darts away. It comes to rest on the vintage bike on the wall. She walks over to it and I follow with my eyes, enjoying the way her skirt hugs her ass.
She takes in her surroundings, scrutinizing the pictures on the wall and peering at the inscriptions.
“This is the Wild Riders Motorcycle Club Headquarters.”
She states it as fact and I raise my eyebrows, wondering how a girl from New York has heard about our MC.
She leans forward, staring at one of the photos. It’s from a Veteran’s Day ride and we’re straddling our bikes, kitted out in our military gear rather than our MC jackets, ready to hit the road.
“Veterans,” she says softly, like she’s talking to herself.
“That’s right.”
She jumps at the sound of my voice, not aware that I had come up behind her. She spins around, and I’m so close that her breasts brush my chest. She lets out a gasp of surprise but doesn’t step back.
“Sorry I scared you.”
Her eyes are more startling up close. One’s deeper blue than the other, but there’s no denying the dark smudges underneath. My angel has troubles, and I can’t wait to soothe them.
“Why are you here…?”
I don’t even know her name. The woman takes a ragged breath, and her lips part. My eyes dart to them, so plump and sweet and agonizingly close.
“Is the coffee alright? I didn’t know if you wanted it milkier,” Davis calls from the bar. I grit my teeth; the boy’s timing is incredibly poor. The spell is broken, and the woman steps back.
“No. Thank you. It’s perfect as it is.”
She darts back to the bar and retrieves her coffee from the counter. She takes a long sip, determinedly looking forward.
“What’s your name?”
I follow her to the bar and lean my elbows against it. Trying to be casual while this woman has me all twisted up inside.
It’s been a long time since a woman had me in a spin, and that didn’t end well. But I ignore the warning from my brain as my body takes over, making me tongue-tied and hot and hard all at once.
“Hazel,” she says.
“Hazel.” It’s a beautiful name. It suits my angel. “Why are you here, Hazel?”
She sips her coffee and places the mug down slowly.
“I’m looking for someone. Marcus Wild. I heard he’s a member of the MC.”
My name on her lips makes my chest expand and my cock lengthen. My angel is here for me. How could I be so lucky?
Then it all slides together. “You’re from the magazine.”
I push away from the bar as my chest deflates. My angel is here for me, but only to interview me for some goddamn vanity magazine. To exploit my story to sell copies of their pretentious magazine.
She nods. “I’m Hazel Lumley, arts journalist for Culture Slam magazine.”
She holds out a hand, and I stare at it until she draws it back in. The frown reappears on her face, but this time I’m not so eager to wipe it off.
“I told your boss I’m not interested, so stop harassing me.”
Her eyes go wide, and I almost feel sorry for her. “I’m not harassing you…”
Tracking me to the MC headquarters sure feels like harassment to me. “You’re kidding, right?”
“Just give me five minutes of your time…”
“Five minutes won’t change anything.” I hate to do this to her, and I really hope she doesn’t lose her job. But there’s no way I’m talking to that magazine. “I’m sorry you’ve wasted your time, Hazel, but it’s a no.”
I grab my jacket off the back of the stool and pocket my phone. My guest is turning up soon, and I want to be there to greet him.
A pang of regret tugs at me as I stride past my New York angel. But that’s women for you. Duplicitous.
It’s best she gets back on the plane and straight home to New York where she belongs.