Page 4 of The Biker's Hidden Obsession

The line disconnects and I sit there, my phone still pressed against my ear with silent anticipation. What kind of hell did I just summon?

I only know it wears leather and boots, and tomorrow morning, it’s walking through my door.

Chapter Two

Tennessee

Red leans against the doorframe with a toothpick waggling between his teeth like he’s got something to say. He’s always had that look that’s half amused, half ready to burn the place down just for fun. His cut’s more worn than mine, patches barely clinging on, and grease stains that’ve been there longer than the chip on his shoulder.

“Still babysitting that hunk of junk?” he nods toward the bike I’ve been working on like it’s personally offended him.

I grunt, not bothering to look up. “You finish your work? There’s plenty to do around here.”

He chuckles, the sound low and rough, like gravel under tires. “Shit, I just finished two bikes last week. You’ve gotta catch up.”

Red’s one of the last real ones. We’ve seen hell together. Miles of bad roads, bar fights, cold nights under open skies. He’s the kind of guy who’ll bleed with you, laugh at your pain, and still knock back a beer like he’s got nowhere to be in the morning.

I finally sit back, wiping sweat from my brow with the same rag I used on the engine. “You here to help, or just stand there looking pretty?”

Red smirks. “I came to hear about your date with the girl in town. The guys won’t shut up about it. A little young for you, ain’t she?”

I roll my eyes and lean back into the bike, twisting the wrench harder around the rusted bolt above the exhaust pipe. “It’s not a date. She needs an assistant for the wedding she’s putting on. No big deal. I need some goodwill, anyway.”

He leans against the doorframe as he fiddles with the toothpick in his mouth. One of these days, he’s gonna choke on that thing. “I heard through the vine you went down there. Almost like you were lookin’ for trouble. Girl that age, you’d have to be.”

I blow out a sigh and narrow my gaze toward him for a moment before redirecting to the stuck bolt in front of me. “I owe a buddy a favor, and you know I hate letting that shit sit. That’s all. Besides, she doesn’t want a date anymore. She wants an assistant. I guess everything has gone to hell with some wedding she’s planning for her cousin. It’s no big deal.”

“Right, so she’s not pretty?”

“What?”

“Dude, you’re here alone all the time. I’ve seen you struggling since we got out here.”

“I’m not alone. You’re standing right there, annoying the shit out of me day after day.”

He pulls the toothpick out of his mouth, holds up his palms, and settles onto a workbench, thumbing through a pack of smokes without lighting one. He knows better than to push too hard.That fucker also knows when there are cracks in my story.

I grab a stool, flip it around backward, and drop down onto it, wiping my hands on that same damn rag. “You ever wonder what we’re doing out here?” I ask, not looking at him.

Red lifts a brow. “We’re fixin’ bikes.”

“Not what I’m asking. After everything we’ve seen and done, do you think we’ll ever balance the scales?”

He doesn’t answer right away, which is how I know he understands what I’m saying.

I sigh. “We’re far from virtuous, and I wonder when I reach my maker, how will I be judged?”

“You were a medic in the desert, fighting for a just cause,” Red says softly. “Depends on who you’re judged by, but in my book, you were righteous. If you’re not, then none of us are.”

I nod, jaw clenched. “Guess so. I’m preaching to you guys about how we all need to move on while I’m still sitting here all fucked in the head.” I glance at the bike, half-finished like everything else I start these days. “I just… don’t know who I should become with what’s left of my life.”

Red stands and lands a hand on my shoulder. “Then it makes sense that you’ve decided to take up wedding planning. Nothing helps embrace godliness like a choice between eucalyptus or baby’s breath. You’ll be fitted for wings in no time, man. Lord knows it’s not about anything else.”

“It’s not about the girl, if that’s what you’re getting at.”

“Oh, so it really is about the love of signature cocktails?” He laughs. “Just admit you like a girl who’s way too fuckin’ young for you, we’ll all laugh, then support you like we have the rest of the idiots around here.”

I stare down at my oil-stained hands and let his words sink in. Considering I jerked off to thoughts of her in her pretty pink dress the second I got home, Red isn’t completely off base.

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