Page 37 of Desperate Justice
“Wow, Ally, you sure know how to hurt a guy’s feelings. That night we spent wasn’t that memorable?”
Heat suffused her face. She rolled the cold soda over her forehead and finally it clicked.
“Dan Johnson. How are you?”
“Doing mighty fine, now that you’re here.”
Dan. Nice guy, zealous about his bike and always on the make for women. They had gotten drunk together at last year’s Teddy Bear Run and...
Well, she was usually careful about the guys she slept with, but he’d caught her during a vulnerable moment. She’d just come off an intense cell phone convo with her mother gushing over Di’s latest success in modeling, and how she was dating a multi-zillionaire who recently bought a nineteen-million-dollar mansion on the Intracoastal, and Di’s boyfriend invited them all to some fancy party for the Air & Sea Show at his condo on Miami Beach...
No amount of liquor could quell the hurt inside, or the slight resentment of her younger, more successful sister. But tumbling with Dan between the sheets had chased away the feelings that, despite her career, she was riding to nowhere, fast.
“We never did get that second date.” He winked at her.
Allison sipped her soda. “You know that was over soon as it began, Dan. I told you last year, let’s remain friends. Nothing more.”
“I know. But you can’t blame a guy for trying, not with a woman like you, Ally. You need a guy on the road to look after you.” He patted her hand in a patronizing way that almost made her smack his fingers.
“Allison,” she said curtly, pulling away her hand. “I need a man like my bike needs a flat tire.”
He looked confused. “Why would your bike need a flat tire?”
Good gravy, this was pointless. Using metaphors to politely tell him to get lost was like explaining an aneurysm to a toddler. Well, not exactly. At least the toddler wouldn’t be condescending.
“I can help you with your bike, check it over. You need to make sure you have enough coolant and transmission fluid before you get on the road,” Dan told her.
“Really?”
Seeming to sense an opening, he began droning about the proper care of her motorcycle. Allison bit back a sigh. Last year she’d told Dan she did all her own maintenance. Seemed he’d forgotten about that, along with her insistence they could be only friends without benefits.
Rafe, in a group of other bikers examining a vintage Triumph motorcycle, glanced her way. His gaze lingered on her for a minute, then he pointed at Dan and gave a thumbs-up and a head shake.
You okay, he was asking.
Allison shot back a thumbs-up, nodded and smiled, not to reassure Rafe, but in remembrance of the special sign language they’d developed to communicate when she worked as his confidential informant last year. Sometimes Rafe would be at the biker bars where she hung out with the Devil’s Patrol, just to check on her.
Suddenly she realized in all the times he’d checked on her, it wasn’t because Rafe doubted she could get the job done.
Or that she needed rescuing.
It was simply to be there in case she needed him. Otherwise he’d back off.
His attitude was refreshing, especially compared to mansplaining guys like Dan who thought no meant yes.
Rafe was a rarity—a man who respected women enough to leave them alone when they wanted to be alone.
I don’t want to be alone, though. Not when I’m around Rafe.
Was this sexy Cuban American sending her heart into overdrive? Jump-starting an engine that had gone cold?
Nope. Rafe and his hot guy vibe, charm and underlying tone of respectful concern had been making her heart race like a speed demon all along. This was only the first time she’d been fully aware of her feelings.
This can’t happen to me. I can’t fall for a guy like Rafe, who can easily break my heart. I’m a solo rider.
“Ally, did you hear me?” Dan waved a hand in front of her face.
She pushed off the chair and drained her soda. “I heard you. Now hear this, Dan. Thanks for the lecture on bike care. I’ll keep it in mind when I lube the chain on my bike. Have a great ride and rally.”
