Throttle's Seduction(Insurgents MC Romance Book 7)(5)

"You don't remember me?" Disappointment crept into his voice. "I was the one with the black cowboy hat."

All the guys had either black or white cowboy hats, you idiot! "Oh yeah, now I remember. How're you doing?"

"Doing great. I'm glad you remembered because we sure danced good together."

"Uh-huh."

"I remembered the shop you told me you worked at. You didn't want to give me your number."

"Yeah, well, I don't usually give out my number until I get to know someone better."

"That's why I called. I want us to get to know each other better. You doing anything tonight?"

Who the fuck calls and asks for a date the day of? No way. "Yeah."

"Oh. What about tomorrow night?"

"Busy again." She yawned.

"How about Thursday night?"

Oh God, he's gonna go through all the days of the damn week, probably  the whole month. "Thursday night could work. What do you have in mind?"

"Dinner and maybe a drink somewhere?"

I gotta eat, and he sounds nice enough. I haven't had a date in a while.  What the hell? "That sounds good. It'll have to be around seven ‘cause I  don't get off work until five thirty or so."

"That's awesome. Yeah, seven is fine. What's your address?"

"I'll meet you." Kimber rarely let a man she didn't know pick her up at  her home. She didn't like him knowing where she lived in case he gave  out weird vibes or things didn't click. It made it safer and less  complicated that way. So, she'd meet men in a public place on first  dates. The fact that she'd obviously met him a few nights before didn't  count since she'd been wasted. If he wanted to give her a hard time  about it, she'd chalk him off. It didn't really matter to her since she  had no intention of getting serious with any man. She'd done that before  and it had been disastrous.                       
       
           



       

After a few seconds of hesitation, Riley said, "Can we meet at your work and go from there?"

Kimber thought about it for a few moments. "Let's meet at Jim's Service  Station. Do you know it?" She was friendly with the old guy who owned  the gas station and she knew he kept it open until ten o'clock.

"Yeah, I do. Can you give me your number in case I have to get a hold of you."

They exchanged phone numbers, and she placed the receiver back on its  cradle. The front door swept open and a blast of hot air blew over her.  Hawk walked in, taking his gloves off as he approached the counter.

"Hey, Kimber. How're you doin' with Banger's bike? He left me a bunch of messages wanting to know when the fuck it'll be ready."

"Tomorrow. He sent over one of your members. The guy seemed to have a  real problem with me being the mechanic. You know, me being a woman and  all?"

Hawk looked at Patrick. "Who was it?"

"Throttle."

Hawk laughed. "Yeah, he would have a problem with that. He's old-school. Did he give you a hard time?"

"Nothing I couldn't handle." She smiled. She liked working with Hawk,  and he never treated her any differently from the other mechanics who  worked at the shop. She'd been surprised he'd hired her on because, from  the way he looked, she'd have thought he would've been old-school. But  his fiancée was a lawyer, so maybe he was a biker who'd slipped through  the caveman cracks. She headed back to Banger's bike.

A couple hours later, Kimber swung her leg over her metallic pink Harley  and made her way to her small house on the outskirts of town. She  wanted to live in the town, but the rents were too expensive and she  didn't want to spend all her money on housing. Her house was a cute  two-bedroom/one-bathroom in a semi-shady part of town. Her next-door  neighbors were a couple in their late twenties, and they made her feel  very welcome. They seemed to have a perpetual barbecue, and Chyna was  always coming over and knocking on Kimber's door with an invite. She'd  gone over a couple times, but mostly she wanted to just crash and veg in  front of the TV, watching her favorite shows after a long day of work  in the garage.

She didn't think either Chyna or her boyfriend, Delacoma, worked since  they were always home, drinking on the front porch, the back patio, in  lawn chairs-anywhere they could find a place to plop their butts down.  Lenora from across the street told her they were on disability and  supplemented their income with garage sales, but Kimber didn't want to  be a part of the gossip group in the neighborhood. As long as people  left her the hell alone, she didn't give a shit what they did.

She turned her swamp cooler on, and a damp smack of cool air covered  her. She made her way to the bathroom for a quick cold shower. After  thirty minutes, she was cooled down, lounging on the couch while  munching on a large salad filled with nuts, feta cheese, pineapple, and  sunflower seeds, and sipping a cold bottle of Coors. Grabbing the  remote, she switched on the TV.

During her show, an ad for a motorcycle accident attorney came on, and  her mind drifted to Throttle. When she'd first looked at him, she'd been  surprised by how good-looking he was, with his long brown hair and big  dark eyes that could make a woman lose her senses. He was tall, ripped,  and the tats on his arms intrigued her; they were sexy, especially the  ones curling around his sculpted biceps. And his strong jaw and straight  nose made his rugged good looks seem more refined. The three earrings  in his right ear and the dangling silver chain in his left made her  stomach tighten. Too bad he'd opened his mouth. If he weren't so  insufferable, she could imagine riding on the back of his Harley.

Wait! What the fuck are you thinking, Kimber? He's a nice-looking jerk.  They're a dime a dozen. And he's an outlaw biker. No fuckin' way! She'd  bet he had a woman in his bed all the time. She could definitely  guarantee that he wouldn't be faithful to any woman. He was just like  her ex. Chewy saw women as playthings, as commodities. She shook her  head. These fuckin' bikers are all alike. The only reason she was even  thinking of Throttle was because she'd been going through a dry spell  for the last six months. She didn't want to do anything stupid because  of her hormones. Then she remembered cowboy man. She'd give Riley a  chance. She hoped he was tall and ripped with sexy tats on his arms.  Long brown hair would be good too. Stop it, Kimber! The biker's a  douche.

She placed her empty bowl on the table and drained her beer bottle.  Settling back, she sighed and hoped Riley was at least tall and had one  skull tattoo. Turning up the volume, she watched zombies stalk survivors  on the screen.                       
       
           



       





Chapter Four





The following morning, Throttle entered Hawk's shop and went straight to  his buddy's office. Without knocking, he went inside and plopped into  one of the leather chairs in front of the desk. Hawk waved to him as he  continued his conversation on the phone, and Throttle glanced around his  friend's workplace as he waited.

"Hey," Hawk said as he put his phone down.

"Did you hire a fuckin' chick to work on the bikes?"

Hawk chuckled. "Dwayne told me you were upset about Kimber working here."

"So you did? What the fuck, brother?"

"She's a damn good mechanic. Bruce called me and asked if I needed some  help in the shop. You know summer's the high season for me. I told him I  did, and he said that Kimber had been working for him for over two  years and was a kickass mechanic. She learned all that shit from her dad  when she was growing up. I said I'd give her a try, and she's one of my  best."

"A fuckin' chick?"

Hawk laughed. "Yeah. Fuck, I'm just as surprised as you are."

"There's no way you woulda even thought about hiring a bitch to fix  bikes a couple years ago. Cara's got you pussy-whipped." Throttle pushed  back roughly in his chair.

Hawk's jaw clenched. "Cara's got nothing to do with this. I run the  fuckin' shop and decide who I'm gonna hire. Why the fuck do you care,  anyway? She's not working on your bike."

"And she better never get near it. If I bring my bike here, I don't want  a goddamned woman fucking with it." He scowled, the heat rising to his  temples.

"Noted. How's the planning going for Sturgis?"

"It's going," he mumbled. Being the Road Captain, Throttle was in charge  of planning all the road trips and rallies. He'd recently taken over  the position from Bruiser, who was much older than him and had to slow  down according to his doctor's orders. Throttle loved the extra perk of  having the patch "Road Captain" on his leather jacket. It made getting  prime pussy even easier.

"You wanna inventory some items that came in? I could use the help."