“And are all these your bikes?” She touched the handlebar of the one closest to her.

“That’s Wade’s,” I answered. “The BMW belongs to Max and this one’s mine.” I patted the seat of my Enfield.

“And the one you’re fixing?”

I glanced at it. “It was given to me by a good friend of mine.”

“Billie? Max said you hang out at his bar a lot.”

I grinned. “Well, yeah, I do hang out at Billie’s a lot, but she’s not the friend I’m talking about.”

Lauren’s eyebrows arched. “She?”

“Her husband, Sam, was the former leader of Black Storm. He was the one who gave me this bike when I was just new to the club. It was his old one.”

“And have you been into bikes since you were a kid?”

I guess she really didn’t remember me.

“No. Sam was the one who infected me with his love of bikes when I moved out here.”

That was after I got out of jail, but I decided not to tell her that. Yup, another reason for me to stay away from her.

She nodded. “I see.”

I put my coffee down on the shelf and went back to work, hoping that she would get bored and leave. She didn’t.

“Max said you own a tattoo studio?” she asked.

“Yup. It used to be Sam’s too.”

“So, you’re an artist?”

I tightened a bolt. “I try to be.”

“You must be very good with your hands.”

The remark made me pause, instantly conjuring an image of my hands on Lauren’s bare skin. I cleared my throat as I tried to shove it away.

“I used to like drawing,” she said.

I looked at her with arched eyebrows. “You remember?”

Her eyes grew wide. “I…I mean, I must have.” She fidgeted with the pendant of her necklace. “I vaguely remember a green wall covered in drawings.”

“Do you remember any of the drawings?”

She touched her chin. “I think there was one of a cat with a ribbon on its head.”

“A cat with purple stripes?”

Her forehead creased. “How did you know?”

Because I was the one who taught her how to draw that. But shit, I shouldn’t have said that.

I shrugged. “I think I’ve seen that on the cover of a kid’s book. Maybe even on TV.”

“Oh.”