Page 55 of Ridin' True
“Sorry,” I said, not entirely sure I meant it.
I barely got the word out before he had a handful of my hair in his grasp, his mouth descending on mine in a hard, relentless kiss that did a whole lot more than whet my appetite.
Thiskiss wasn’t magic.
It was witchcraft.
When he was done, he didn’t bother saying goodbye. He merely nipped my bottom lip with his teeth, and then he was gone.
I stood where he left me, lost in a daze as I replayed the last five minutes in slow motion. When I heard the rumble of his motorcycle, I glanced toward the sliding glass door in my living room. I couldn’t see him from my kitchen as he took off, but it was enough of a reminder that I, too, needed to get moving.
It was nearly an hour later when I pulled up behind mami’s minivan.
A part of me wished I could go back in time. I wanted to relive my morning with Jed more than I wanted to get out of my car and head inside the house.
Much as I didn’t want to admit it, I’d been avoiding my family for longer than a day.
I hadn’t come home since before my initial fight with Alejandro. Bella and I had exchanged a few texts prior to her last call, but that didn’t make my avoidance any less real. I couldn’t stay away forever. Complicated as we were, we were family. And even when it was hard, family came first.
It was time I stepped up and do what I always did—cover for my twin.
With my bag of laundry in one arm, and a highland cow full of coins and cash in my other, I headed for the door and plastered on a smile.
Four Days Later
Mondaymorning,IhadFred Hoffman’s employment contract in my inbox. I printed a copy of it at work and brought it home with me that night. It was thirty pages, which felt a bit excessive.
Upon my initial read, I decided I was right.
It took me nearly all night to weed out the bits and pieces I didn’t think were relevant for my assigned task in order to focus on the parts likely to have the greatest possibility for weakness. Then it wasn’t until Wednesday night, at nearly nine, when I thought I had what I needed.
I called Jed first—mostly because I missed him and wanted to hear his voice. He texted Bull while we were still on the phone, and it was his idea for my next meeting with the Stallions’ president to take place at the clubhouse during my lunch break the following afternoon. It would be easier for Jed to step away from the garage to say hi.
I didn’t need convincing.
Before we said goodnight, Bull texted back, confirming our meeting at one o’clock.
Thursday felt like a great day to wear a dress.
I chose a sleeveless, white dress with a boat neck that hugged me down to my waist. The skirt flared just slightly, its hem stopping a couple inches above my knee. It was incredibly simple, but flattering and elegant. I did my makeup as usual and styled my hair back into a neat, low ponytail for a bit of drama. I finished the look with a pair of floral print, stiletto heel sandals with a T-strap that clasped around my ankles.
The shoes were definitely my favorite part.
I arrived on the Wild Stallions compound ten minutes early, and I used a couple of those minutes to apply a fresh coat of lipstick before exiting my car. Satisfied with my appearance, I hooked my purse over my arm, stepped out of my Corolla, and purposefully made my way toward the open bays at Stallion Motors.
I caught a little attention, even managed to earn a whistle and a catcall. If it was any other day at any other garage, I would have been annoyed—but that afternoon, I wanted to make a scene.
“Hey there, pretty lady. You here for a tune-up? Cause I’d be more than happy to help you out with that.”
I barely paid attention to the man who spoke as he made his way toward me, too busy searching the garage for my target. A coy smile pulled one corner of my mouth when I spotted him. He stopped what he was doing and peeked out at me from where he stood, bent over the innards of an SUV, the hood suspended over his head. He had his hair pulled back in a messy knot, leaving his eyes unobscured—which meant I got to watch as he took me in from top to toe.
“Fuck off, Dog,” he muttered, his eyes still pinned on me. “That one’s mine.”
I wasn’t sure ifDogwas an insult or a road name, but I didn’t look to see if the man was insulted. As soon as Jed spoke, he straightened. Suddenly, I wished I hadn’t chosen white.
Jed Barker was hot in jeans, a tee, and his kutte.
Stripped naked, he was a beautiful, chiseled dream.
