Page 18 of Burly Biker of Misty Mountain

He huffed with amusement and pinched my chin lightly.

“That mouth of yours is getting a little sassy. It’s cute.”

I grinned, settling into my seat behind Maverick.

We rode for over an hour, with the wind tugging at our clothes and the hot summer sun beating down on us. I didn’t know where we were going, but I didn’t care as the landscape flew by us in a dizzying blur of blue and green.

Misty Mountain grew smaller and smaller behind us, until the little town faded from view entirely. Maverick slowed to a leisurely pace, covering my interlaced hands with his palm. I rested my cheek against his back, leaning with him into every dip and curve of the road.

I wouldn’t be uprooting my life to get a bike of my own anytime soon, but I could see why Maverick loved this. The freedom of it. Following the road wherever it would take him.

Just as my stomach began to grumble for lunch, we reached the outskirts of Pleasant View, Colorado. I still recognized a few of the places I used to visit during my college days—my favorite noodle shop, the park that had nearly doubled in size, and theantique store where I spent my Friday afternoons picking up supplies for The Enchanted Teapot.

Even though Pleasant View still had the modest population of a small town, it was twice the size of Misty Mountain, and it seemed to be growing.

Maverick steered toward a pizzeria, with the delicious yeasty smell of dough lingering in the air. My mouth watered at the thought of grabbing a bite to eat.

Then he sailed past it, and turned into the parking lot of a sleek black and silver boutique, with a sign in looping silver letters that read Noir Delights. A window display showed a dozen sets of lingerie in a range of colors.

My hunger pangs turned into a knot of dread.

After I graduated college, I visited Bristol in New York for the weekend to celebrate our newfound freedom and the promise of our future to come. We spent hours visiting one shop after another and seeing the sights in Manhattan.

When we stumbled into Victoria’s Secret, I was entranced by the silks, satins, and lace. Every article of clothing was breathtakingly beautiful.

It didn’t take long before I found out they didn’t sell plus sizes though. Nothing would fit me. The more I searched the racks of clothes with no luck, the more it stung.

I wasn’t looking forward to repeating the experience. Definitely not with Maverick in tow.

“Is this what we came here for?” I asked. “Or did you get distracted?”

Maverick popped the kickstand of his bike down and removed his helmet.

“It’s hard to hate your body when it’s wrapped in lace and silk, dove.”

My heart sank. I wish he had told me where we were going before we left Misty Mountain. I could have saved him the trouble of that long drive.

“I’m on friendly terms with the owner,” Maverick replied. “I called ahead, so she’s expecting you. Buy whatever you want. My treat.”

Before I could protest, the door of the boutique opened and a woman emerged. She was stunning, with waist-length raven-black hair tipped in twilight purple, and warm brown eyes rimmed in dark kohl.

“Hey, Maverick,” she said, greeting him with a kiss to the cheek. “Good to see you again. Dad sends his regards. You’re welcome to stop by the clubhouse for a drink before you leave.”

A coil of slippery-green envy slithered through my ribcage. I had no claim on Maverick, no right to feel jealous. We weren’t together. He was helping me, teaching me how to flirt, to date, to prepare me for the moment when I met someone I could be serious about.

Someone who wasn’t Maverick.

“If I do that," Maverick countered. "I’ll be stuck for an hour, listening to your old man try to rope me into joining his club."

“He won’t stop until you say yes.”

“I can be a stubborn old dog, too,” he countered. Then he turned and gestured to me. “Lila, this is Katie. I told you about her on the phone. She could use your expertise picking out something that will give her a confidence boost."

Lila’s gaze flicked away from Maverick and settled on me. I fiddled with the hem of my t-shirt under her scrutiny. She was so stylish, with ripped jeans, black high heeled boots, and a dark purple crop top. I felt frumpy in comparison.

Then she smiled and hooked her arm through mine, leading me into the boutique.

“Maverick wasn’t kidding when he said you have curves for days. I selected a few things already. Why don’t you try them on and see how they fit?”

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