One Rough Ride

Talia
By most people's standards, I’m doing great. I’m working at a job I adore, I have an apartment I love, and I’ve got an incredible bestie in my older sister. Too bad I’ve also got one thing I’d love to be without… my darn V-card. When I meet a tattooed biker in the produce section, I might have finally found the opportunity to ditch that label for good.

Ryker
I didn’t expect the curvy librarian to show up when I mentioned the bonfire bash. When I see her talking to one of my MC brothers, I can’t help but step in. Some primal instinct demands that I mark her as mine, especially when I find out what kind of mission she’s on. The sweet young thing is too good for this ex-con. I’m nowhere near good enough to be the man she deserves, but it will be over my dead body that I’ll let anyone else have her.

The men of the Lonestar Riders MC might be wild and rough around the edges, but their hearts will be tamed when they meet the curvy girl of their dreams. Each book features one couple, is a complete story, and can be read alone.

Another Friday night in Broken Bend meant another reason to party. Not that the guys I hung out with needed much of an excuse. I was looking forward to wrapping up a shitty week and blowing off some steam. With the way the early April weather had been cooperating, this time we were hanging at my buddy Hawk’s place out in the country. He always threw the best parties. That’s why I didn’t mind when he sent me a text and asked me to pick up some lemons and limes while I was in town. The guys would be happy with beer and a couple of bottles of relatively cheap whiskey. Sounded like he was expecting more than our Lonestar Riders MC brothers if he was asking for fruit. 

I parked my bike in front of the grocery store and killed the engine. A little old lady pursed her lips and shook her head as she walked past. I bit back a laugh, surprised she didn’t make the sign of the cross to ward off my bad juju. I’ve never been the type of man a girl would bring home to meet the parents. I’m more like the bad boy biker a girl’s parents warn her about.

With my sleeves pushed up to show off the tattoos on my arms, I followed the woman into the store. She stood by the carts, trying to pull one free from the corral.

“Let me get that for you.” I gave the basket on the end a tug and it rolled away from the others.

“Thank you, young man.” Her frown eased slightly. Then she turned and skittered away like a mouse who’d just found itself eye to eye with a tomcat.

I was used to reactions like that. I’d given up on trying to prove a person’s first impression of me wrong a long time ago. As I entered the store, I scanned the produce section. When I did my regular grocery shopping, I usually headed straight to the frozen meal aisle, then picked up a case of beer on my way to the checkout. The produce area was foreign territory.

Focused on finding what I needed and getting out of there as soon as possible, I almost walked right by the bombshell standing in front of the pineapple display. I noticed her heels first. There was nothing sexier than a pair of sky-high fuck-me pumps, and the ones she had on definitely fit that description. I traced the curves of her calves up to a tight black skirt that molded to her backside. My pulse sped up. It wasn’t every day a guy met the woman of his dreams between the peaches and bananas.

“Sorry, am I in your way?” Her voice came out soft and sweet.

I dragged my gaze past her form-fitting button-down blouse to focus on a pair of beautiful hazel eyes. “No, ma’am. I was just passing by on my way to grab a few lemons.”

“Oh.” She cocked her head slightly to the right as she studied me.

I waited for the look of surprise in her eyes to shift to one of apprehension. This sweet thing had no business with a bad boy like me. When she didn’t look away, I couldn’t help but toy with her a little.

“Do you need some help picking out a pineapple?” I nodded toward the tall display of fruit.

She glanced over at the pyramid of pineapples. “Are you an expert of some sort?”

The slight sass in her tone made me grin from ear to ear. “Self-proclaimed. The one you’ve got there,”—I pointed at the pineapple in her basket—“that one’s not quite ripe yet. If you don’t need it for a few days, it should be fine.”

“What if I want to eat it now?” Her eyes were wide and clear. I couldn’t tell if she was flirting or just asking an innocent question. Either way, my cock twitched being that close to such a gorgeous woman.

“You’ve got to tug on the leaves. If they pull out easily, then you’ll know it’s ripe.”

“You’re making that up.” Her lips curved into a dazzling smile—the kind that could inspire men to go to war.

I shook my head. “Try it.”

She reached for a pineapple. “I just tug it?”

Fuck me. The way she looked at me sent blood racing toward my dick. “Yep, give it a nice, firm tug.”

Her fingers pinched one of the thick leaves, then she pulled it free. “I guess this one’s ripe, then?”

“Looks that way.” 

“Well, you learn something new every day.” She traded the pineapple in her basket for the one she’d just tested.

“You might want to set that upright.” I took the liberty of reaching for the fruit and flipping it, so the base sat firmly in the top of her cart.

Her eyes narrowed, but the smile stayed stretched across those lips that begged to be kissed. “Why are you adjusting my pineapple?”

“Haven’t you heard what it means to have an upside down pineapple in the top of your grocery cart?” I could tell by her lack of reaction that she had no idea what I was talking about.

She scrunched up her nose and shook her head. A few strands of honey-blonde hair fell over her shoulder, and I would have given just about anything to be able to reach out and see if it felt as soft as it looked.

I leaned close to mumble against her ear. The scent of something flowery tickled my nose. She smelled like baby powder, innocence, and sex all rolled into one. “It’s a signal that you’re willing to swing.”

“Swing?” She pulled back just enough to meet my gaze. “You mean…”

Damn, she was so fucking cute the way her eyes rounded, and her hand came up to cover her mouth. I let out a deep laugh.

“Don’t worry, darlin’. We set it straight. You ought to be safe from the small-town swingers of Broken Bend.”

“Are there really people here in town who,”—she looked around like she wanted to make sure no one was listening before she leaned in close—“do that sort of thing?”

I scoped out the rest of the produce section. The older woman who’d struggled with the cart stood a dozen feet away but seemed too engrossed in picking out a tomato to pay us any attention.

“I’m sure there are, but unless grandma over there is keeping some big secrets, I don’t think any of them are here right now.”

She looked over at the older woman. “That’s Mrs. Harris. She stops in at the library every Monday and goes through at least five books a week. Most of them are cozy mysteries, but I’ve seen her check out a few steamy romance novels here and there.”

“Really?” I evaluated the granny with a newfound respect.

“Yep. That’ll teach you to judge a person by their appearance.” She grinned, then cupped her hand around her mouth and whispered, “She told me once there might be snow on the roof, but that doesn’t mean there’s not a fire burning in the hearth.”

“Good for her. Or better yet, good for whoever she’s hanging out with tonight. So, you must work at the library?” The curvy blonde had me intrigued, and I was fishing for more information.

“Yes. By the way, I’m Talia.” She held out her hand. A stack of bracelets jangled on her wrist. “I’m lucky I ran into you today.”

“Lucky for me. I’m Ryker, and the pleasure’s all mine.” I slid my palm against hers. I’d anticipated a jolt when we touched, but was unprepared for the short circuit to my nervous system. No telling how long it would take to get the image of this curvy goddess out of my mind. Even though she was clearly way out of my league, I wanted to see her again. “If you’re not doing anything tonight, there’s a party going on out at the old Trainor ranch.”

“What kind of party?” Her grip loosened, and she pulled her hand away. Immediately, I felt the loss of her touch.

“You know what? Never mind. It’s probably not your style.” I shouldn’t have said anything, but my desire to see her again won out over common sense. My MC brothers would eat this doe-eyed beauty alive. A sense of possessiveness surged through my chest. I had no right to her, but I’d be damned if I’d let that happen.

“And what’s my style, exactly?” Her hands shifted to her hips.

Afraid of putting my foot in my mouth and pissing her off, I proceeded with caution. “You look like you’d rather stay home and read a book than shotgun beers around a bonfire, that’s all.”

“Didn’t we just talk about the error of judging people based on their appearance?” One of her eyebrows arched. “I happen to love shotgunning beers.”

“Right…” A deep belly laugh popped out before I could stop it. There was no way in hell this librarian partied hard on a Friday night. “Well, I hope you can stop by. There’ll be plenty of beer, and I’d be more than happy to introduce you around.”

“I might just take you up on that, Ryker.” She held my gaze a beat too long.

My heart revved in my chest like the engine on my Harley. Damn, I wanted to see her again. “In case you don’t and you decide you need more help picking out pineapples, you can find me here.” I pulled a business card out of my wallet and handed it to her.

“The Brickhouse?” She turned it over in her fingers.

“It’s a garage. I work on bikes for a living.” A tiny crease rippled across her forehead. “Motorcycles.”

“Got it. Well, I don’t have a bike, but I’ll be sure to file you under perfect pineapple picker in my contacts.” She tucked my card into her purse. It looked like it was made out of two hardcover books.

“I hope I’ll see you around, Talia.” With one last look at her rockin’ curves, I reluctantly turned my back and headed toward the lemons. Like hell she’d show up at a party in the middle of fucking nowhere with a bunch of bikers.

But what if she did?