Page 4 of Magnetic Temptations

“True ‘nuff. However, this is something you need to know, she doesn’t stay mad at me for long. Her mother on the other hand,” he begins but quickly stops speaking when his old lady, Cameron, starts hollering for him in the background. “Gotta go. Safe travels.”

He disconnects without even a ‘see ya’. I chuckle because I know that my woman has called her mother and Gunner is in hot water. Wonder how he’s going to finagle his way out of this one.

Driving down the freeway after handing in my keys to the landlord, a smile breaks free across my face. Knowing that I’ll be pulling up to the clubhouse in the next twelve hours has eased the pressure that’s been growing in my chest since I got the phone call that I’m now free from an obsessed psychopath.

Usually, being stuck in the cab of my truck for this length of time would have my skin crawling, yet anticipation about seeing Mane and the others at Kings overrides that anxiety. As the tires eat up the asphalt, and the miles I put behind me steadily increase, my tension continues to lessen. They saved my life in more ways than one. Intuition tells me that if I had stayed where I was I would no longer be walking this earth.

When the decision was made that I’d be going to the DreamCatchers instead of heading home, Mane put me in contact with several of the men from the club. The bond of those men calls to me in ways I’ve never felt pulled to before. Hydro has been sharing bits and pieces about club life with me. The way he talks about the brotherhood has me longing for that type of connection.

I have siblings, and we were close growing up, but as we moved out of our parents’ house and started living our own lives, we weren’t as close as we were as kids. Before I was given a new identity and was told I couldn’t have any contact with anyone in my family, loneliness unlike anything I’d ever felt set in. I found myself growing depressed and Mane was my only salvation.

I get that’s a lot to lay on her shoulders, but she handled that weight with class and never made me feel like I was burdening her. I placed her on the top of the totem pole, a position I refuse to let her get knocked down from because out of everyone I know, she deserves to be there. She’s always felt misplaced in her family. She can fight and shoot as well as they do, but she doesn’t have a mean bone in her body like the rest of those she grew up with which made her feel like a misfit. Not that they’re mean per se, it’s just that because they’ve been raised by a group of loudmouthed bikers who literally had to rebuild their own lives, they don’t take shit from anyone. They’d just as soon as shoot than talk, while Mane is willing to give people the benefit of the doubt. Okay, I guess that does make them mean after all.

CHAPTER

TWO

MANE

The past two nights of working the graveyard shift meant that I didn’t spend my nights tossing and turning in bed, worried about Mason. I don’t like the fact that he’s traveling that far of a distance alone, but I have to keep in mind that he’s a grown man that’s been by himself for a long time now.

From the last text I received from him, he’s an hour out so I quickly jump into the shower so I can shave, shower, and hydrate my hair with the mask I use once a month so that my hair is shiny and healthy looking. Maybe I should’ve started this process earlier in the day, but I’ve been so uptight that I’ve been puttering around the house instead. As I methodically go through my process, I worry that the feelings I’ve developed for Mason may not be reciprocated to the same degree.

He calls me baby. He hasn’t hidden his desire to be a couple, as a matter of fact, he reminds me of the bikers I’ve grown up around because he all but claimed me as his. I wasn’t the kid that fantasized about having a biker as an old man, but the more I imagine Mason in a cut riding a bike, the more that fantasy has taken fruition.

I’ve never been one who falls into line as far as being like the rest of my family goes. I’ve always marched to the beat of my own drum and refuse to apologize for doing so. I’m all about fixing what’s wrong with the human mind instead of putting someone down. Although, through time as well as gaining experience since getting my degree and working at Kings, I’ve discovered that some people aren’t redeemable.

It’s a damn shame that some people’s wires get crossed in their brains the way they do. Even with the advances through psychology and scientific explorations, there are some diseases that still confuse all fields of medical professionals. Unfortunately, no amount of intervention can help those sorts of individuals.

As those thoughts float out of my head, I look back at myself from the mirror and bob my head in satisfaction. I’m not dressed flashy, I decided since I’m going to the clubhouse for a welcome home party the club is throwing, I should dress the part. I’m in a racerback tank top, tight blue jeans with natural rips in the material, and my boots. My makeup is done at a minimum—I have cotton candy pink chapstick on my lips, a light brushing of foundation and blush on my face and cheeks, plus I swiped some mascara across my lashes. I’m not a girly-girl, I’ve always been too active of a person to deck myself out. Hell, I was a tomboy up until I graduated from high school where I discovered my own unique style.

The alarm on my phone goes off letting me know it’s time for me to head out and pick up the cake I ordered from Heartland Bakery. I can’t wait to see it, it’s been customized and seeing as the bakery has only recently opened, I was one of her first customers so I got it at a great discount as a thank you from the owner.

“Ireland, this is phenomenal. You did a fabulous job on this!” I exclaim, admiring the personalized cake. Mason’s not club, but he is a rider who owns his own chopper.

“Did I get the right shade of blue for the gas tank?” she asks, chewing on her bottom lip.

“It’s dead on,” I confirm. “Matches the swatch I gave you flawlessly.” I’ve only seen photographs of Mason’s bike through text messages, but I opened up my album at the paint store and the salesman helped me find the closest hue to the paint that coats his bike. The tank is the only color on his bike, everything else is black as night. Even the pipes, which are usually chrome, are dark.

I open up my phone and search through our text strand before finding the picture I want. “See? Here’s his bike.”

“Whew,” she hums with relief, but there’s a huge smile gracing her face. “Let me get the lid secure and I’ll help you cart it out to your car.” Now I’m the one releasing a sigh of relief. I was antsy about carrying this box that’s nearly as long as I am tall out to the car without jostling it and possibly losing my footing.

“You should come out after you close for the night,” I suggest. “I know you’re new to town and haven’t had the chance to make many friends.” She looks hesitant but then I see excitement light up her eyes.

“Are you sure it would be okay for me to come?” she asks. “I mean, it’s not really wild or anything, is it?” I’m not sure how to answer that question and be honest about the way I word it because the parents are coming too and with my uncles mixed into the group, you never know what the night will consist of.

I internally laugh because some of the parties do get out of control, but that typically happens after the old ladies and the kids have left for the evening and the single men are left to their own devices. I seriously doubt Ireland will be there that late, she’ll most likely take her leave when the rest of us women do but I make a mental note to keep an eye on her so she doesn’t get traumatized because some of the single brothers are a bit—wild.

“Okay, so it can be wild and crazy, but initially, it’s a family party so there’ll be kids, as well as young teens, in the mix. However, before it gets completely off the chain, the old ladies and the kids will leave. That’s when the single guys kind of let it all hang out, so if I happen to be occupied and you see any of the women leaving, go ahead and head out. Otherwise, they’ll think you’re there for another reason.”

“What other reason?” she questions as she tapes the box to secure it for the drive.

“Um, well, there are women in town who like to come to the parties because they want a walk on the wild side.” When she still looks confused, I continue. “They want to take a ride on a biker’s dick.”

“Oh!” she exclaims, her face flushing. “I’m not looking for that at all.”

I snicker then say, “Well, at least, not right now. We all got needs, girlie.”

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