Twisted Scars (Comanche Sons Motorcycle Club Book 1) (3 page)

Chapter Three

Riley didn’t know what the hell she’d gotten herself into. Perhaps she was simply too tired and that’s why she caved in and said yes to Chance. The truth was that she didn’t have a clue as to why she acquiesced to his strange request. She was willing to sleep with the guy, but all he wanted was a date.

Perhaps she was the sane one, and there was something wrong with his mind.

Was he playing some games with her?

As she checked her reflection in the mirror, she wasn’t sure if she’d made the right choice in clothes. Perhaps she should’ve worn a dress. Although the faded, dark jeans molded to her legs, they were really old and had seen better days. The white blouse was relatively new, but it wasn’t the sexiest thing that she possessed. But he said casual, so here she was. Generally, she wasn’t the one worrying over the way she looked. Confidence was her middle name.

Today, however, she felt nervous and confused. Somehow or other, he’d gotten past her barriers, and she didn’t quite know how he did it. The man sure had some smooth moves. In any case, it wasn’t such a big deal. One date, really. What difference would it make? Sure, she’d not been on a real date for a long time, but it couldn’t be too difficult. She would simply sit through lunch, have a conversation to pass time, and then she would come back. Easy as baking a pie. This would get him off her back, and that would be the end of it. She didn’t intend to see him again. Sure, the man was handsome and charming, but she wasn’t too impressed.

No way.

No sir.

This was nothing but a mistake, and she would correct it by telling him politely that she didn’t intend to go out with him again. He would get pissed off as men did when their ego was hurt, and he would yell and scream, and then it would be over.

Almost as if on cue, her doorbell rang. Guess she’d run out of time to change. Good thing too, as she didn’t want to make much of an effort.

She opened the door and was surprised to see him holding a bouquet of white tulips. Her mouth opened and closed. She didn’t quite remember the last time a guy brought her flowers.

“Hi,” she said.

His eyes lit at the sight of her. It was another first for her. Men usually reacted like this when they saw her out of the clothes. He thrust out the flowers at her and said, “For you.”

Even though she wanted to run a mile away, she accepted the flowers. Now, she didn’t have a choice but invite him inside while she set them in a vase. “Thanks. Come in.” He sauntered in, looking around closely at her one bedroom apartment. Pretty basic, but she did keep the place neat. Well, she wasn’t Ms. Money bags, and he certainly wasn’t interested in her for that, so she didn’t really care. Riley opened a cabinet and took down a vase. “This will take just a minute.”

“Sure, no problem.”

She filled the vase with water and took off the string from around the tulips. “You didn’t need to do this.”

“I wanted to. Initially, I thought roses, but a woman as unique as you deserved something a little off the usual, so I figured tulips were a good choice.”

Unique?
“You don’t need to flatter me. I’ve already agreed to go out with you.”

He took a seat on the stool and glanced at her, as if he was seeing her for the first time. “Are you always this prickly and suspicious with men, or is it just me? It was a compliment, nothing more and nothing less.”

Color flushed her cheeks. He had a way of making her feel as if she was behaving crazy. “I’m just not used to being…”

“Wooed?”

Her eye widened as she stared at him. God! He was handsome, and the man damn well knew it. “Is that what you’re doing? Wooing me?”

“Perhaps.”

She didn’t like this one bit. He didn’t want to sleep with her, but instead he wanted to wine and dine her, and now he brought her flowers. She wanted to run away to a place where he wouldn’t ever find her. She didn’t want romance and flowers, and she didn’t believe in happily ever after. “It won’t get you anywhere. I’m not looking for something permanent,” Riley said.

“You’re the original footloose and fancy-free woman. I get that. Trust me; I’m also not looking to slip a ring around your finger.”

She noticed that he didn’t appear to take offense at her blunt talk, which was good. She liked a man who could accept the truth. “So then why waste time? Let’s just get into bed and get it over with.”

“Oh, love. You’ve been hanging out with the wrong men. Trust me, we’ll get to bed but before that, we must set the stage, make the mood.”

Too much trouble.
Still, he appeared intent on it. “Fine, have it your way.”

“That’s the spirit.”

She couldn’t avoid the laughter that spurted out of her. She was honest enough to admit that he intrigued her. He claimed not to want something permanent, but he didn’t seem to mind taking his time about something that wouldn’t really last. She didn’t understand his logic.

She set the vase on the kitchen counter. “So where are we going?”

“I’ll show you.”

After they walked down the stairs and marched into the parking lot, she surveyed his bike. Riley had ridden with many men before, so it wasn’t anything new, but his bike was a thing of beauty. Black and chrome, he’d lovingly cleaned and polished it. She liked that he appeared to take care of his things. It showed a neat personality. Score one for Chance.

She accepted the helmet that he handed her and sat behind him. He drove with control and yet she enjoyed the way the wind whipped around her. When they came to a stop outside a seafood joint near Boston Harbor, she was pleasantly surprised. It was an upscale place, not enough to make her feel dowdy in her old jeans, but it was a far cry from the pub where she ended up taking most of her meals.

He’d reserved a table. Fancy! The man sure had some moves for a biker. Most of the guys in Comanche Sons were happy to feast on anything that she put in front of them after half a dozen bottles of beers. He was different. The waiter gave them the menus, and she glanced at it. “I’ll have the clam chowder.”

“Good choice. I’ll take the same,” he said.

After the waiter left, she looked at him. He appeared comfortable in this place. “Have you come here before?”

“Belongs to a friend of mine, so yes. It’s one of my favorite haunts, and their food is good.”

She cocked her head as she studied him. “You don’t seem like the other guys in the biker’s club.”

“I’m unique, too.”

“Yes, you sure are. So when did you join the boys?”

He shrugged. “Nearly four years ago. I was at a loose end, didn’t have much to do, anyplace to go…so well, they seemed like a nice fit. There isn’t that much work pressure. All I do is handle the supplies’ department for all the bars, and the rest of my time is mine. No office where I’ve got to clock in hours; no pants, shirts, and ties; and I get to ride my bike as much as I want.”

“You went to college? Got an education?”

“How do you know?” he asked.

She grinned. The waiter brought their food, and she gazed appreciatively at the soup she’d ordered as an appetizer. “Have you heard the way most bikers’ speak? You’re different, more cultured…I’m guessing at least a bachelor’s degree.”

“I was in the army.”

The spoon that she’d dug into her soup clattered, as she stared at him. “You were…what?”

“Got admitted. Went through basic training, the works. Was posted in Afghanistan. Did a couple of years. When I came back…hell! They called it post-traumatic stress syndrome, but I just thought it was basically shit hitting the fan. Was in a pub, got into a fight and lobbed a guy hard enough to send him to the hospital for three months. He recovered, but I couldn’t. Was thrown out and had to find other employment.”

She took a few mouthfuls of her soup, as she sifted through his story. There was anger, oh yes, she could sense it, but it was mostly directed at himself. “I’m sorry,” she said.

“Don’t be. It was my fault. Guess the life didn’t suit me. Too much stress. I’m happy to paddle along now and do what is necessary to get through the day.” There was more to this story than he was telling, but she didn’t want to pry, especially given the fact that she didn’t want to stick around. Sure, he was a nice guy, but she wasn’t looking for anything permanent. “What about you? What’s your story?”

Oh! She wouldn’t ever tell him the whole of it. She couldn’t. “I got through high school, never went to college. This was the only job that I’d done since I was fifteen, and I’m pretty damn good at it.”

“Yeah, I’ve seen you in action. If you stick around, you would easily be promoted, become manager soon,” he said, causing her to shrug. It was his turn to cock his head. “But you don’t intend to stick around, do you? I wonder why that is.”

“None of your business.” Riley raised a hand. “Sorry. You’ve been nice to me. I shouldn’t have said that.”

“Never mind. You’ve got walls around you that are a mile high, Riley. Any fool can see that you’re hiding from something. What is it? Law?”

“I didn’t kill anyone.”

“So? Theft? Breaking and entering? Come on…you can tell me. I’ve got a good lawyer. Trust me…he got me off after I broke a guy’s legs. I could’ve gone to jail, but he sprang me free. Whatever it is, he can handle it for you.”

“I didn’t break the law,” she said in a curt voice. Riley didn’t like this intrusion in her personal life. It was a wrong move to allow him to get this close. She shouldn’t have come out with him.

As she pushed back her chair, he raised both hands. “Fine, I’m sorry. I won’t ask any questions. Stay, please. Come on. Please.”

She didn’t want to be very difficult, and damn it, she liked the guy. Riley sighed, as she resumed eating. “Let’s not make this personal,” she said.

“You must be the only woman in this world who has these rules, you know. Most women can’t wait to spill their guts about their family, themselves, and the wrongs that were done to them.”

“No wrong was done to me, and in any case, you were the one who said that I was unique and that I wasn’t like other women.”

He raised his glass. His eyes gleamed, and she longed to run her hands over the stubble on his cheeks. Her fingers itched to touch him, to feel his skin, but with some effort she resisted the primal urges that surged through her body. “Touché. So what’s your favorite color?” he said.

“What?”

“It’s not personal. This is a generic question.”

She rolled her eyes, but he sure had a point. The man had a sense of humor. Score for him again. She wondered what it would be like to make love to him, to have their limbs entwined with each other, and to kiss his full lips. “It’s purple.”

“Why?”

“Because I loved Barney as a dinosaur.”

“For me, black is the eternal color. It’s cool, it’s calm, and it’s always in.”

She couldn't believe that they were having this insane conversation, but Riley quite enjoyed it. From colors, they moved on to movies and favorite actors. “Come on, you haven’t seen Fast and Furious, any of them. That’s a crying shame,” he said.

“Men and cars. Ahem!” She enjoyed the clam chowder, as they debated about movies. “It doesn’t do anything for me. Sure, the men are good-looking, but the cars are better looking. So yeah…it doesn’t hold that much appeal to me.”

“Bite your tongue. If the women hear you, they will rip you apart from limb to limb. I know a few women who practically worship those guys.”

She laughed. He was a funny guy, and it was easy to relax with him. “I guess I don’t know a thing. For me, a good movie is one where I can laugh and smile. Cars. Guns. Bombs. Espionage. That’s not what makes me tick.”