Page 5 of Magnetic Temptations

“Maybe so, but I’m such an introvert, I know there’s no way a biker would be interested in me at all.”

I raise my brows because she’s got that all American girl next door appeal that I know several of the brothers would claim in a heartbeat. They might enjoy sowing their oats with the club whores, as well as the townies who come prowling around at the clubhouse for their next conquest, but at the end of the day, the cousins I grew up with, as well as myself, want what our parents have—someone to grow old alongside. Someone loyal and committed to you and never, not once, glance at another woman because you are their entire world.

“Well, don’t worry during the family part of it. I’ll introduce you to some of the other women around our age because we all need a posse to go shopping with, or bitch about the male race, or grab some coffee, you know?”

“Yeah, I know there’s more to life than my bakery and my pug, Mugsy.”

“Oh my goodness! They’re so cute!” I reply in regard to her pup. I love their squishy faces and the way their little tails curl.

“He is, but he’s still a puppy so he’s a bit demanding sometimes.”

“Well, Auntie Mane can’t wait to meet him so she can spoil him,” I tease. “I love animals but haven’t gotten my own pets yet.”

“Pets? As in plural?”

“They’re like potato chips, you can’t have just one,” I reply, deadpan. Of course, that lasts all of two seconds before I burst into laughter with her joining me.

“What do you want?” she asks as we carry the box out to my car.

“I love dogs, but I’m partial to kitties because they’re a bit more independent. With the hours I work, I’d hate to have to kennel a dog that long. I plan to go out to the shelter soon because they’ve got animals of every variety who need a home. Who knows? I could end up with a foul-mouthed parrot or something.”

She snickers as I hit my key fob to open the rear of my SUV. Somehow, we manage to get the box inside and then we stand there looking at it because unless I find something to help hold it in place, it’s going to slide all over and end up looking like a wrecked bike instead of the masterpiece that Ireland created.

Once the box is in the back and we’ve secured it so it won’t shift with the turns and bumps on the road, I hand her my phone and tell her, “Put your number in for me and I’ll send you directions. It’s at the clubhouse, but GPS will lead you to an empty field if you depend on it alone to get you there.”

“Is it at least near the empty field?” she asks, mirth dancing in her eyes. I know by the merriment sent my way she’s going to fit in with us ladies.

“It’s close, but close doesn’t get you to the food,” I joke. “And trust me, the guys are mean grillers. They love to outdo each other so we always end up with way too much food, even with the mass we feed.”

“Can I bring anything?” Ireland asks.

“You pitched in on dessert so you’re good,” I state, reaching out and taking my phone from her outstretched hand.

“That doesn’t feel like much. Maybe I’ll bring some other treats for those who don’t like cake,” Ireland offers.

My head whips up and my eyes widen when I sputter, “Who doesn’t like cake! That’s blasphemous.”

“It happens, believe it or not,” she informs me. “I was taken aback the first time I came across a client who demanded I offer things outside of that as a treat for parties.”

“I was just thinking earlier today that it's a shame that some peoples’ wires get crossed,” I harrumph. “I can understand some not favoring the icing because it can be a little on the sweet side, but the entire cake, there’s something monumentally wrong with that.”

She giggles and it’s a chain reaction because we both end up laughing so hard that we end up swiping tears from under our eyes.

“See you there?” I ask, making sure she’s not backing out.

“I’ll be there,” she promises. As we part ways, and I back out of my parking spot, I notice Ireland wearing a grin that stretches from one ear to the other. As I drive north, I look in my rear view mirror and smirk when I see her dancing in place. Yeah, she’s going to fit in just fine.

CHAPTER

THREE

MASON

I’m physically and mentally exhausted by the time I pull up to the clubhouse. Even with my body sagging, a surge of energy encompasses me. I’m magnetically wired as men and women pour out from the entrance and begin making their way over to me.

“Welcome home, Mason,” Hydro says as he shakes my hand and follows that up with a pat on the back. His strength is nothing to sneeze at because my entire body vibrates from the impact.

As I stand to my full height and stretch my arms above my head, I respond, “It feels good to be out of the truck. My body still feels as if it’s on the road.”

---