Page 16 of Clear Your Mind

I don’t remember driving. My mind is playing a round ofHow Fucked Am Ion a scale from mousy crystal nerd from Texas to straight-up heroine out of an MC romance novel.

“Well, Krystal, look at this rationally. He’s the vice president of a motorcycle club, and you’re, well, you. No way is he going to fall for you and go beating his chest. And you, girl, well, you swore off relationships, especially with men like him, so it’s fine. You’re both adults. You can have sex without it leading to joint taxes and a name change.”

My heart instantly disagrees.

A horn startles me, and I realize my light is green. “Oh, my goddess, I was talking to myself…out loud. And I’m still doing it.” The drive drags on as my mind races.

I zip my lip as I enter my complex because I feel crazier than normal, and that’s saying something.

I roll my eyes when I see my assigned spot is occupied by a motorcycle…again. I find a free-for-all spot and start to unload my shit from the signing. Lucky for me, Buddy sold all my books, so I’m able to maneuver it—albeit awkwardly—in one trip. As I pass the community outdoor rec area, I see the owner of the motorcycle that’s in my spot, grilling something and drinking beer.

Typical.

I forgo saying anything about my spot, it’ll do no good anyway. I just keep my head down and hope he doesn’t notice me. Ha, as if.

“Hey, sweet cheeks, sorry about that.” He points his amber bottle toward where my truck is parked. Sorry he parked there, but not sorry about why I bet. “You need a hand?”

“No, Badger, I got it.” I don’t offer false thanks. And I barely bite back theit’s okaythat women always seem to offer up when things are clearly not okay. I wanna scream, “move your fucking bike, asshole, it’s my spot,” but I don’t.

He turns back to his grilling duties, and I make it to my door with the perfect reminder of why this thing with Buddy will never be more than a fling. I smile because it’s the reminder I need. Seeing Badger ever so often will give me the dose of reality I need.

Just as I’m closing my door, I hear the rumble of a bike. Great, more of Badger’s friends to keep me up with their partying. Then I remember I won’t be here tonight.

4

BUDDY

Sitting astride my bike, I ponder the arrangement we just struck.

In theory, it’s an absolutely perfect proposal. I crave the connection of a relationship without the risk, always have. It’s one of the things club girls lack. If you cuddle with them too much or ask about their life, they get ideas.

Not Krystal. She is perfectly clear on what she wants. To me, that means I can do and say things I normally wouldn’t because Krystal won’t read into it. She’s offering me everything I want and nothing I don’t, fuck yeah, I’m going to take it.

But with her? I already crave more after just one night. I smile inwardly when I remember she’s local instead of just in town for the book event and how fun it will be to persuade her to alter the details of our accord.

That’s the thought in my head as I watch her back out of the spot carefully and exit the lot. It’s something my mother used to do. Something I haven’t indulged in for a long time. I smile as I watch her make her way out of the lot. I throw up my hand and wave, not that she can see, but it reminds me of how good it feels when someone cares if I’m safe or not.

My mother acted like watching or being watched would keep us all safe somehow. And when I was young and dumb, I kind of believed it too.

But that’s ridiculous, my mom watched me leave that night all those years ago, and I watched her in the rearview mirror until she was but a speck.

It hadn’t kept me safe from anything…then or now. Nor did it save my best friend and my girl.

I pull out with the intention of heading to the clubhouse, but as I’m waiting to turn left, I notice a motorcycle pull out and tail Krystal from a distance. Not sure why he raises my hackles, just that he does. Something about how he hangs back has me turning right and cutting off the car next to me.

Krystal is driving right at the limit, and all the other traffic is going around her, but not him. It becomes apparent he’s pacing her by the second light.

Not just that, he’s wearing a cut. Now I’m on high alert. I recognize the colors. The Bullfeathers. They popped on our radar when we chose Somerset.

Cowboy gave us the lowdown before we even left Reno. Cowboy was NOMAD for a while but told Morningstar if we came here, he’d be waiting.

True to his word, he did the grunt work and saved us a lot of hassle. He also said the only claim to the area was this wannabe club that’s all but imploded.

A handful of members.

No real organization.

A prez that’s likely tweaking and cooking.

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