Page 15 of Her Possessive Bikers

"He's the new president. Saved me from some prospects giving me grief. He's..." I search for the right words. "Different than I expected."

"Different how?"

"Remember those silver fox romance novels you're always reading?"

Millie squeals so loud I have to hold the phone away from my ear. "No way! Your dad's biker club has a hot older guy? This is like every bad boy romance novel ever."

"Stop it," I laugh, but feel my cheeks warm. "It's not like that. Besides, he was Dad's best friend."

She gets quiet for a second. "Ah, I see. When are you coming home?"

I glance out the window, looking at the town and all the memories surrounding me. "Actually, I plan to stay for at leasta month. I actually just left the lawyers office. Got some things to sort out with Dad's estate. Plus..." I finger Dad's letter in my pocket. "I think maybe there's more here than Mom let on."

"Well, as much as I'm gonna miss you, girl," Millie says, her voice cracking a bit, "you've got to navigate this new stuff on your own. Who knows what might come out of it?"

"Yeah," I reply, tracing the edge of Dad's letter. "I guess you're right. I mean, it's not like I have a choice."

"And hey," she continues, "think of it as an adventure. A really weird, emotional adventure where you get to ride motorcycles and hang out with hot bikers."

"Millie," I groan, but can't help but laugh. "Trust you to see the silver lining in everything."

"That's why you love me," she says smugly. "And don't worry about work; we'll hold down the fort. Just focus on what you need to do."

"I will," I promise. "Thanks for understanding."

"Anytime, babe. Call me if you need anything. And send pictures of that Chevelle!"

"You bet," I say, feeling a bit lighter. "Take care of yourself."

"You too, Indy. Talk soon."

I end the call and idle there for a moment, absorbing the quiet that follows Millie's infectious energy. The Chevelle's engine rumbles beneath me like a living thing, waiting for my next move.

"Alright," I say aloud, starting the car and pulling onto the road. "Let's see what else you've got in store for me, Texas."

I pull into Dad's driveway, his letter still burning a hole in my purse. The two motorcycles gleam in the late afternoon sun – an Indian Chieftan and a custom Chopper Dad always called Cher. Beautiful machines, but a lot to handle for just me.

"One of you has got to go," I say, running my fingers along the chrome of ole' Cher. "And I know just where to start looking for a buyer."

Inside, I change into ripped jeans and one of Dad's old band t-shirts I found in his closet. It hangs loose, smelling faintly of leather and motor oil. I gather my hair into a messy bun and grab the choppers keys.

The car guides me to the clubhouse. The parking lot's half-full – seems like a slow afternoon. Music drifts from inside, some classic rock song I can't quite place.

I park the Chevelle and take a deep breath. "Okay, Dad. Let's see about finding one of your bikes a new home."

9

JACOBY

The wrench slips from my grease-covered fingers, clattering against the concrete. "Son of a-" I bite back the curse, wiping sweat from my forehead with my forearm. This carburetor's being a real pain in my ass today.

The distant rumble of a V8 engine cuts through the usual chorus of Harleys. My heart skips - there's only one muscle car I know that comes around here these days. Sure enough, that midnight black Chevelle pulls into the lot, and I have to remind myself to breathe.

Indy steps out, and damn if she isn't a vision in that worn Ramones t-shirt and jeans that hug every curve. Her combat boots kick up dust as she walks over, black ray bans covering her eyes, twirling her keys around one finger.

"Having fun there?" She nods at the tools scattered around my feet.

"Oh yeah, time of my life." I wipe my hands on a rag. "How you holding up?"

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