The cop rolls down the window, and my defenses go up. But what he says catches me off guard.
“Hey, Kayla, everything all right here?”
“Hey, Scottie,” she responds cheerfully. “We’re all good.”
He nods, eyeing up my white, custom H2R with the chrome trellis. It’s one of a kind and definitely not street legal.
“Kayla.” He motions with his head for her to approach the car. Here we go.
She steps out of my grasp, around my bike, and bends over to lean on the doorframe.
Fuck, I love the view but hate the circumstances.
The officer speaks in a low tone, making it so I can’t hear their exchange as much as I try to eavesdrop. Kayla suddenly laughs, glancing at me over her shoulder. “I think I can arrange that,” she says loud enough for everyone to hear. “Later, Scottie.” She taps the hood of the cop car.
“Kayla, Mr. Dane.” He throws another head nod before he pulls away.
The cruiser drives off, and Kayla saunters right back into my arms.
“Are you going to tell me what that was all about?” Since I was left completely in the dark.
“Scottie is a huge fan. He’s kind of shy, so he asked if I could get him an autograph.”
“That’s all?” What an effing relief!
“That, and to tell you nice ass.”
“What?” I tense.
Kayla cracks up. “Just kidding. I don’t think he saw anything.”
“Well, thank heavens for good timing.” My muscles loosen.
“And being fast.”
“Hey, now. That was only for situation’s sake.” I slide my hands down to her round ass cheeks and squeeze. Mine.
Strangest concept ever. The only thing I’ve ever really laid claim on is carbon fiber fairings, four cylinders, and two wheels, but my narrow line of sight seems to be widening. “Ready to go for another ride?”
Kayla’s eyes flash. I love how she can twist a simple question into a sexual innuendo. Dirty girl.
“Where you taking me, moto?”
I pick up both our helmets from the ground. “So many places,” I imply. My turn to twist some words.
Kayla takes her helmet leisurely. “I’m sure you can, world traveler.”
“Experience comes with the platinum package.” I wink. “But for the time being, I thought we could go to a rally.”
“Together?”
“Yes, together.” I chuckle. I know what Kayla’s thinking. Showing up to a rally with a girl on the back of your bike makes a statement. I’ve never had an issue making a statement, and that’s not going to change now.
She’s left speechless, her plump pink lips parted. Just the reaction I was going for.
I’m taking a step back and reevaluating my life, and I don’t plan to waste a minute I don’t have.
“Ready?” I mount my bike and slide on my lid.
“As I’ll ever be.” She follows suit, saddling up behind me. I run my palm down her thigh just for the hell of it before I start the engine and take off for parts unknown.
Kayla hasn’t returned one phone call or text message. She’s avoiding me and doing a spectacular job of it, too. I’m not entirely sure what happened. I thought we had a breakthrough. We shared an amazing morning, and then when I woke up, she was gone.
I’ll admit it fucking hurt. Still hurts. I’m not some fucking sap, and Kayla isn’t some fucking girl. Maybe it’s karma biting me in the ass. I’ve done my fair share of fooling around, taking women for granted. So when I finally land the one who actually means something to me, I end up meaning jack shit to her. Damn. It still burns me up. And I still fucking fantasize about her every night. It’s a cruel, vicious circle.
I scan the mob of motorcycles on the lookout for Riley and Knight. It’s dark, but the numerous five-gallon drums of fire shed enough light to see into the distance. The air smells like a campfire mixed with burning rubber while the roar of racing exhausts howl in the distance. Outside the hospital, this is my life, my family. A motley crew of men and women riding carbon fiber horses in the middle of nowhere, free as a bird.
Reese asked me why I came back. This is why. This community. This privilege. This easy abandon. I missed it. Missed my feral side. Here, I can express who I am, both personalities, the professional and the tempestuous.
The land is littered with brightly colored Yamahas, Ducatis, and Hondas, so it catches me off guard when I see a white custom Kawasaki part the crowd like the Red Sea. What surprises me even more is that he has a girl on the back.
Reese pulls up next me, a small group of people flocking to us once he parks. We don’t even exchange a hello before the barrage for autographs begins. For a solid five minutes, Reese works the crowd, taking pictures, signing helmets, shirts and boobs all while the girl on the back clings to him shyly.
“Okay! Okay!” I bellow. If no one steps in, he’ll be trapped here all night. “Let the man breathe already! This isn’t a fuckin’ celebrity appearance!”
Reese signs a few last items before the horde dissipates.
Vultures.
I clasp my brother’s hand as he gets comfortable in the clearance.
“Who’s your friend?” I address the girl. When she removes her helmet—the blacked-out lid with pink racing stripes—I nearly fall off my bike. “What the . . .”Kayla?”
“Hey.” She actually has the decency to look guilty.
What’s going on here? My eyes jump furiously between the two of them. Am I in The Twilight Zone? The woman who proclaims publicly she doesn’t like bikes—or bikers—is currently sitting comfortably on my twin’s back seat, looking like she belongs there. Or at least belongs on the back of someone’s bike. I notice the way Reese touches her thigh, and I instantly become defensive, like a predator just moved in on my territory. How did this happen? What am I missing? Before I can erupt, Kayla flies off the back of Reese’s monster.
“Holy shit!” she nearly squeals. “Hold this.” She slams her helmet into Reese’s gut then takes off jogging into the distance.
Reese and I are both left perplexed until we see her nearly knock down another woman. It looks like an ecstatic reunion . You know, one of those girly ones where they jump up and down, hugging and carrying on.
I use this as the perfect opportunity to pounce.
“What the fuck are you doing?” I nearly rip Reese’s jugular out.
“What the fuck do you mean?” he snaps back.
“I mean what the fuck are you doing with Kayla?” I speak slowly, punctuating my words, hoping they stab him right in the dick.
“What does it look like I’m doing?”
“It looks like you’re fucking around. What are you doing back here anyway? Shouldn’t you be gallivanting across Europe right now?”
“I’m taking a break.” He situates his helmet and Kayla’s on the gas tank.
“A break from what?” I’m completely confused.
“Racing.”
“What?” I’ve never heard anything so preposterous fly out of my brother’s mouth. “You don’t take breaks from racing.”
“I do now.” Reese keeps his gaze focused on Kayla, which only infuriates me more.
“She’s a good girl, Reese.” My tone is threatening.
“I know she is.” His response is indifferent, which makes me want to rip my hair out.
“Then what are you doing with her?” I press.
“What do you think?” He leans forward and squeezes the grips.
“The last thing Kayla needs is for you to sink your teeth into her.”
“She hasn’t complained about my mouth being on her yet.” He smirks darkly.
Rage flares inside me. “I fucked her the morning after you left.”
That gets his attention. His blue eyes narrow, sharpen.
“I fucked her the night before I left.” That information makes me nearly blow a gasket. “And an hour ago.”
I glare at my brother, exhausting every ounce of control I have to keep from punching him dead in the face.
“You going to tell her?” I seethe. “You going to make her fall in love with you and then break her fucking heart? Because that’s the only future the two of you have.”
Reese breathes heavily. “That’s speculative.”
“No, it’s not. It’s a fact with your lifestyle.”
We stare each other down, blue eyes to blue eyes, but no glowering intimidation tactic is going to change the cold, hard facts. He’ll end up leaving her one way or another.
“Why the fuck do you care?” He lashes out before the realization hits. “You love her.”
I turn away from him. Love may be a strong word. But care? I definitely care. Too bad she’s already made her choice. I now understand the radio silence. And goddamn does it hurt. It fucking stings like a swarm of angry hornets.
I feel sick.
Karma. It’s a motherfuckin’ bitch.
I hear Reese sigh loudly, but I can’t bring myself to look at him. I’m too . . . wounded.
“Do you remember Cassie Hawthorne from high school?”
That gets my undivided attention.
“How could I ever forget?” She was a girl we shared the summer after graduation. Three drunk, young kids exploring their sexually ambitious side. We fucked her the entire summer. Right up until our father died and Reese went pro. I think that was the last real “relationship” he ever had with a woman.