Page 14 of One Last Chance

“Don’t lie, it’s obvious you do. Why don’t you tell him how you feel?”

Widening my eyes, I respond, “No way, I can’t do that. The man hates me. Plus, he probably has a girlfriend.” I don’t tell her how I follow his every move on social media, and how all his photographs have a woman named Cassandra in them.

“You’re talking about Cassandra Miles, aren’t you?”

Glancing out the window, I reply, “Yeah, so, she’s his girlfriend, isn’t she?”

“She’s Cassandra Miles, Chloe. You know, Timothy Miles’ daughter. The owner of the Rapids team?”

“Yeah, so, what’s that got to do with it. He loves her. Well, it looks like he does from what I’ve seen.”

“Mmm… not sure about that?”

My head snaps back to hers. “But they were only seen last week at some high-end party, and they were kissing.”

“Ah-ha, so you do follow him, then?”

“Maybe a little,” I admit, ducking behind my mug.

“Don’t always believe what you read, Chloe. From what I know, she’s a spoiled brat who has her daddy in the palm of her hand.”

Wanting desperately to change the subject, I ask, “Your turn. Who’s this guy you’re seeing?”

Her eyes twinkle at the mention of the guy, and she responds, “You’re not going to believe me when I tell you.”

“Tell me,” I demand,

“He’s in a biker club.”

“A what?”

“A biker club,” she repeats.

I know of a few biker clubs that drive through Vixen Falls, but only the Demons of Hell MC are in town.

“Oh my God, the Demons of Hell? You’re dating someone fromthatclub?” We all know the Demons of Hell MC and their President, Rage—he’s very attractive but scary as hell. We’ve heard stories about him that are not so nice, so I’ve always stayed clear of their MC, making sure I never had to go down to that part of town where their clubhouse is located.

Sophia shakes her head. “No, not someone from Demons of Hell.”

“Then who? What club? I thought they were the only MC here.”

“They are.”

Sliding my coffee aside, I sit up. “Will you just tell me already? I need to know.”

She sighs, and a warm smile reaches her lips. “His name is Tracker.” Her eyes become all dreamy.

“Tracker? What sort of name is that?”

“Look, it’s a long story,” she says, playing with her spoon and circling it in her mug.

“So, give me the shortened version then.”

“Well, he was in town about a year ago. He was on his own and walking about Vixen Falls searching for his brother, Tate. I was grabbing lunch when he walked in wearing blue jeans and a leather jacket. He wasn’t in a biker club then, but he walked around the café with a picture in his hand, asking everyone if they had seen the man in the photo.”

“Go on,” I encourage.

“Well, when he came over and asked me, I just stared at him. He was different, handsome, but in the bad-boy kind of way. His skin is a caramel brown, and his eyes are so green you could get lost in them for hours. And his eyelashes, oh my God, his eyelashes, they are dreamy. I literally can’t find the right words.”

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