Total pages in book: 53
Estimated words: 50811 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 254(@200wpm)___ 203(@250wpm)___ 169(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 50811 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 254(@200wpm)___ 203(@250wpm)___ 169(@300wpm)
This was good advice, and so I tightened my arms around Rome, settling in to enjoy the ride. Loup Loup was stunning, the highway winding its way through gorgeous, evergreen-covered hills. You could still see the evidence of the wildfires, although nature was taking back her own with a vengeance. That was the thing about fire… It might be terrifying, but it also cleared the path for new growth. And not only was the scenery beautiful, Rome handled the bike like a master, every curve so smooth that we could’ve been on rails.
Riding with him felt safe. Solid, and secure. He’d gotten bigger since I’d met him. Harder. The fact that all this hardness was currently nestled between my legs was enough to keep me nice and warm, despite the wind rushing by us.
Not just warm—toasty.
Borderline giddy with heat, actually.
We pulled up to a roadhouse around eight, a place about ten miles short of Okanogan proper. The building wasn’t much to look at—just a dingy white wooden exterior. One or two small windows covered with metal bars. The roof was red metal, slanted to shed the snow, and a flickering neon sign declared it the Starkwood Saloon.
Hmmm… Something told me that Lexi wouldn’t consider this the “somewhere nice” she’d demanded on my behalf.
The Starkwood had been around forever, and it had a bad reputation. I remembered hearing about fights here while I was growing up, and kids whispering about whether or not they checked ID at the door (most said they didn’t, although I’d never had the nerve to try). But Tinker had mentioned once that it had good food, which sounded promising, seeing as food was her business. Sometimes they had dancing, too, and I loved to dance.
The parking lot was definitely full. This seemed like a good sign. There were quite a few motorcycles, but lots of pickup trucks, too. There was even a patio off to one side, hidden behind a wooden privacy fence. That whole area was bright with strings of white Christmas lights.
Rome turned off the engine. I shivered, phantom bike vibrations running through me.
“I know your sister said to take you somewhere nice,” he said, flashing me a quick grin. “And this probably wasn’t what she had in mind. But I figured we don’t have anything high end compared to Missoula, so I went for fun instead. They have a good house band. If I remember right, you love dancing.”
He did remember right. I loved to dance, something that I’d mentioned to him exactly once. Eight years ago. And he’d remembered.
“I’m not really a high maintenance girl,” I replied. “I’ll take dancing over cloth napkins any time.”
We climbed off the bike, which he’d parked in a row of other bikes, one of which had a Reapers MC skull painted on it. The bike looked familiar.
“Is that Gage’s motorcycle?” I asked. The thought intimidated me a little—Tinker’s husband had always been nice to me, but he was kind of scary, too.
“Looks like it,” he said, flashing me a quick grin. “Although I didn’t know he was coming. We all like this place, so it’s not a huge surprise to run into each other. But don’t worry—tonight is about us, not the Reapers.”
“I’m not worried,” I assured him, and it was the truth. Rome might be part of the club, but I hadn’t been imagining the fire in that kiss. He’d come here to be with me tonight. Not his biker friends. And maybe this wasn’t the kind of place Lexi pictured for our date, but it felt like an adventure.
The Starkwood had held nearly mythological status when I’d been growing up, and now I was finally going to see it for myself. And despite its reputation, I felt safe walking next to Rome. As I said, the guy was big—a lot bigger than me—and the way his hand engulfed mine was reassuring.
Like he’d take care of me no matter what.
On an intellectual level, I understood that this was ridiculous. One date eight years ago didn’t mean I knew the guy. Not in any meaningful way. That didn’t change the fact that I felt proud to be standing next to him when we walked through the door.
The place was packed. The band hadn’t started playing yet, but the tables were full of people eating dinner, laughing, and talking. There was a fair number of bikers, but I saw a lot of cowboy hats, too. As we made our way through the room, more than one guy yelled out Rome’s name, and he shared a manly backslap with another beefy guy wearing a fire and rescue shirt.
We found an empty table near the far wall. Menus were stacked in a little rack, and he handed me one, smiling.
“Holy shit, is that you, Randi?” I heard a woman say, and I looked up to find Peaches Taylor standing next to our table. She wore a V-neck Starkwood Saloon T-shirt and a waitress’s apron. Peaches had been one of the most popular girls in high school. I hadn’t, so while we’d grown up together, we’d never really hung out much. But our lockers had been side-by-side senior year, and she’d always been nice and friendly.