“Shit!” How the fuck did I let her walk away without finding out if she has an old man?

“I can’t believe you forgot the reason you went over there in the first place. You losing your touch?”

Losing my touch? Never. She’ll fall in line just like every other bitch. I watch with a smirk as another brother steps up to her. “Trust me, E; I’ll have her under me in no time.”

***Raven***

“Back off, asshole. I said I’m not interested.”

“Bitch! You can’t talk to me like that.”

“I just did.”

I turn away from grease-monkey minion number four and stare down at my nails in disinterest. I swear they all think they’re God’s gift to all females. Women like Lonnie make them feel like they’re kings and every woman belongs in their harem. Well, not me. No, sir. The biggest idiot of them all is the leader of the grease-monkey minions. Gage. What the hell kind of name is that, anyway? Stupid biker thinking I’d be impressed because he’s the stupid president of a stupid motorcycle club. Estúpido. I don’t care who he is. Everyone else in this town either kisses his ass or cowers in his presence, but he’ll get neither reaction from me. Why did he come after me? Lonnie and Super Head were standing right there. Shit. Now I’m even using his terminology. I need to get out of here.

I push away from the fence and start making my way to the gate. The scent of greasy burgers hits me as I walk past the grill and my stomach growls in anger. That’s right. I haven’t eaten all day. What the hell; two more minutes can’t hurt. What would be the point of coming to a barbecue and not taking advantage of the food? The man at the grill smiles as I approach. He’s wearing a cut, so I know he’s a member. He’s old, though, probably a relic from the original members. He reminds me of my grandpa. He has kind, green eyes and an easy smile. I give him a smile of my own.

“Aren’t you a pretty little thing? What can I get you, darlin’?”

“Those burgers smell pretty good.”

“Aah.”

He points at me with the spatula in his hand as he grabs the buns and adds a slice of cheese to one of the patties on the grill.

“That would be my secret ingredient.”

On one bun, he piles lettuce, tomato, pickles, mustard, and ketchup, but I stop him when he reaches for the onion. He places the patty on the other and sets it on top. He makes quite a production of it before handing me the paper plate and a few napkins. I can’t help but giggle.

“Dinner and a show?”

“Only for you, little darlin’.”

Before walking off, I take a bite and give him a thumbs-up.

“It’s delicious.”

He bows and turns to another girl who wanders up. I walk off and grab a Coke from one of the big drums filled with ice and drinks littering the property. Time to blow this Popsicle stand. I wrap my burger in one of the napkins and toss the plate in a garbage can. I move back in the direction I left Lonnie to tell her I’m leaving, but I find her grinding on one of the minion’s laps. They might as well be fucking. Disgusting. I don’t need to see that shit while I’m eating. I walk right past her and decide to send her a text. My burger is gone by the time I reach the gates. It was awesome. It’s probably the best part of this whole day. I toss the napkins and half-empty can of Coke, and pop an Extra gum in my mouth. I can’t wait to get home and curl up with a good book. I haven’t walked five minutes before a motorcycle pulls up alongside me. I look over and roll my eyes in disgust. Great, the minion boss.

“Where you off to, Raven?”

“That’s none of your business.”

“No, but I still want to know.”

I stop walking and turn to face him. He comes to a stop also, places both feet on the ground, and switches off the ignition. Then, he removes his helmet and hangs it on the handle bar.

“Why?”

He grins, revealing what I think are the most perfect teeth I’ve ever seen. That prompts me to take a good look at him. He has blue eyes, but not like mine. They’re darker, in both color and intensity. His hair is a light, golden brown at the roots and more golden blond at the ends. It’s most likely natural; he doesn’t strike me as the type to sit in a salon getting his hair colored. It sticks out in different directions like he doesn’t comb it, but somehow it works for him.

He has the features of a movie star and could beat out Brad Pitt any day. His lips are totally kissable and I want to bite into his full, lower one. The stubble on his face means he hasn’t shaved in a few days – more than a five o’ clock shadow, but not fully grown. It’s sexy as hell. He’s tall, too. Well, taller than me, but that doesn’t mean much since most people are taller than me. I’m only 5'4". He’s probably 6'3", maybe 6'4", and from what I see of his arms, he’s pretty ripped. Not in a body-builder sort of way, but lean and defined. Not bad for a grease monkey.

However, there seems to be something dark about him. Something dangerous. He’s trouble with a capital T-R-O-U-B-L-E, not just the “T”. It’s not the motorcycle, the tattoos running down both arms, or the one peeking out of the neck of his shirt. It’s not the leather, combat boots, or ripped jeans. Even if he was the picture of a Stepford husband, wearing an immaculate three-piece suit, it would still be obvious. He’s not someone you want to mess with. There’s something sinister lurking behind those good looks. I can tell just by looking at him that everything I’ve heard is true. He not only has a reputation as a badass, but as a player. Women all over town, probably all over the world, have stories about him – hit-and-run stories. I’m not about to become one of his victims.

“Let’s just say I have an inquisitive mind,” he says.

“Go stick your nose in someone else’s business.”

His gaze travels over my body, lingering in places it shouldn’t. The heat of his appraisal burns away my clothes, leaving me feeling naked. The unconcealed lust sends a shiver down my spine. I may not want him, but when a hot guy looks at you like that…shiiit.  His eyes meet mine, and I shift uncomfortably but hold his stare.

“I want to stick it in yours.”

And the spell is broken. I scoff at him and continue walking. I have neither the time nor the inclination to listen to his double entendres. I only get a few feet when he grabs me. Again.

“What is it with you and grabbing people? You ever heard of personal space?”

He tightens his hold and pulls me close to him. My heart rate speeds up. He tilts his head to the side and gazes into my eyes. Just like that, the spell is cast once more. I’m unable to look away.

“Why do you keep running from me?”

“I’m not running. I’m leaving, going home.”

He loosens his grip and jerks his head toward his bike.

“Hop on. I’ll give you a ride.”

I step back, shaking my head. He watches me, quirking a curious brow.

“Nuh-uh. There’s no way I’m getting on that thing.”

His lips curve up, and suddenly all I can think about is how beautiful his smile is. I can’t let that cloud my judgment. I need to remember who he is and what he represents.

“What, you scared?”

“I’m not scared. I just don’t want people thinking I’m following in Lonnie’s steps. I have to think about my reputation.”

“I’m only offering you a ride home.”

“Yes, but your reputation precedes you.”

He shoves his hands in his pockets and nods in understanding.

“It’s just a ride. Unless, of course, you want to ride me, too.”

He gives me a smug smile and I narrow my eyes at him. He thinks he’s so smooth.

“I’ve heard you’re a player. If this is how you pick up women, there’s something seriously wrong with them.”

“Actually, they usually try to pick me up.”

“Oh, God. It’s worse than I thought.”