Page 23 of Havoc

“Go away, Charlotte, and don’t approach me again. If I want you, I’ll come to you.”

When Riley stood in front of me, I swallowed thickly. “I thought you ran out on me.”

She gave me a genuine smile. “Not ever. I don’t give up on people.”

I stared into her eyes, grateful that she was meeting me halfway. “Even the really stubborn ones?”

She reached across the table and put her hand on mine. “That’s the thing we have in common. Being stubborn is the reason I won’t give up on someone. They have to fire me. I’ve always been that way.”

Her answer hit me in the chest like a fucking punch I didn’t see coming.

She said yes.

I didn’t play it cool like I should’ve. I just stood there for a second, blinking at her like I wasn’t sure I’d heard her right. Riley, the planner-toting, power-suit-wearing, life-coaching professional, just agreed to hop on the back of my bike.

I realized I was still holding her hand, so I gave it a gentle squeeze and released it. “Alright then,” I said, trying like hell to keep my voice level. “Let’s get you geared up.”

We made our way out to the garage at the side of the clubhouse. I flipped on the light and walked over to the row of cubbies where we kept spare helmets and riding jackets. Most of the old ladies had their own by now, but we kept a couple extras for visitors or, in rare cases like this, life coaches who were about to get a crash course in MC life.

I handed her a black helmet. “This one should fit. It’s adjustable.”

She took it without complaint, her fingers brushing mine briefly. There was that spark again, low in my gut, burning steady. She ran her hands over the shell of the helmet like it was some kind of artifact.

“You alright?” I asked, watching her closely.

Riley nodded slowly. “I’ve just never done this before.”

“Well,” I said with a small grin, “you’re about to lose your biker virginity.”

She huffed a laugh, rolling her eyes. “You’re unbelievable.”

“You’ll learn,” I muttered under my breath, turning back to my bike.

It was parked in the corner, gleaming despite the dust from the last few days. A lot of my brothers took their bikes out for a spin every night, but not me lately. I’d been too wrapped up in the fallout from the sprinkler fiasco and my so-called intervention. I swung a leg over and settled in, motioning for her to climb on.

“Put your arms around my waist,” I told her, once she was perched behind me. “Keep your feet on the pegs, lean with me in the turns, and whatever you do, don’t let go.”

She hesitated only a second before I felt her arms wrap around my middle. A perfect fit. Warm. Real.

I fired up the engine, and it roared to life, a sound that always made me feel like everything was right in the world. I guided us out of the garage and onto the winding road that led away from the clubhouse. The night air rushed over us, cool and crisp.

We rode in silence for a while. I didn’t take her far—just out past the edge of town where the streetlights faded, and the stars started to show up. The kind of road where the only sound was the engine purring beneath us and the occasional long horn honk of acknowledgement of a trucker in his big rig saying ‘hi’.

When I finally pulled over and cut the engine, Riley didn’t let go right away.

“Wow,” she said against my back, her voice a little breathless. “That was...”

“Yeah,” I said. “It’s like nothing else.”

She slid off the bike and pulled off her helmet, her hair a little mussed now, and her cheeks pink from the wind.

“You alright?” I asked again, softer this time.

She looked at me with something different in her expression—like she wasn’t just seeing a client anymore. Maybe not even a project. Maybe just a man.

“I get it now,” she said.

“Get what?”

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