Page 26 of Burly Biker of Misty Mountain

I sputtered.

“Me? I’m…out of my depth, Maverick. I don’t know the first thing about motorcycle gangs. Why did you jump down Pretty Boy’s throat when he called me Bunny?”

A muscle twitched in his jaw.

“Don’t worry about that.”

“Okay, then how did you get the name Maverick? Did you choose it? Was it given to you?”

He sighed with a shrug.

“I picked it up playing cards. When I taught myself how to play poker, I started earning enough cash to get me off the streets and into a motel for the night. A few guys didn’t like some kid with a bad attitude kicking their asses, so rumors started floating around that I must be cheating. Hillbilly shut that bullshit down before it could poison my reputation. He called me Maverick—named me after an old cowboy movie about a gambler, I guess. He never watches anything else besides cheesy Westerns.”

“You and Hillbilly have known each other for a long time,” I said.

“I think he recognized that I was mostly feral and needed my space to sort myself out,” Maverick replied. “He knew I didn’t like authority figures after my father…”

He trailed off. I waited for him to continue, but he shook his head and changed the subject.

“Look, I’ll tell Hillbilly we already have plans and I’ll take you home. We can grab a bite to eat before we get back to Misty Mountain. Just the two of us, as promised.”

I curled my hand around his tattooed forearm, tracing the corded muscles that shifted and bunched when he moved.

“Didn’t you tell me that you’d teach me what to do when the right guy came along? Well, one day, I’ll need to meet his family and friends.”

A shadow flickered across Maverick’s gaze for a split second. Then it was gone again. He nodded.

“I was thinking more along the lines of meeting his parents for a tame dinner over a glass of non-alcoholic wine. Not a bunch of sweaty bikers who are about as well-behaved as a pack of hyenas.”

I shrugged.

“You never know. Maybe you’ve awakened something in me and I’ll only date bikers from here on out.”

“Hell no, you better not, dove. You’re too sweet for that.” He threaded his fingers with mine and pointed at me. “Stay right next to me at the clubhouse, got it? Don’t wander off. Pretty Boy is a sneaky little fucker. He could charm the pants off you in the blink of an eye. Literally.”

“Maybe I’ll make you jealous on purpose,” I countered. “Just to rile you up.”

He smirked and hooked a finger beneath my chin, leaning in close.

“You’re a fast learner, you know that?”

I grinned and popped up on tiptoe, delivering a quick peck to his lips.

“I can’t take all the credit. I have a very good teacher.”

Chapter eight

Maverick

I hadn’t planned on this—bringing Katie into my world. She was being brave about it, but I could feel the way she clutched me a little too tightly on the bike as we followed the Reckless Order to their clubhouse.

And when Pretty Boy called her Bunny, I saw red.

I knew he didn’t mean anything by it. Just testing the waters to see how I would react, and to get a rise out of me, the bastard. But my hackles went up at the idea that anyone else would even think about her like that.

Fuck, this was probably a bad idea.

Ever since I was a kid, I’d been protective of women. Watching my single mother valiantly fighting all on her own made me angry at the world for placing a heavy burden on the shoulders of such a soft-spoken, kind-hearted woman.

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