Page 6 of You Can't Fight Lightning
Parking a short distance from the cluster of other bikes, I took off my helmet and unzipped my leather jacket. It was even hotter now that I wasn’t moving. I ran my hands through my hair. Which was a mistake—the dust fell from my hair like a rain shower.
I could hear a cheer from the back of the bar. That much positive energy had potential. For what, I had no idea. But the potential was there. I quickened my pace toward the front door.
When I walked into Big Pete’s the air was warm and cool all at once, redolent with the smell of peanuts and beer and something sweet. But despite all the bikes parked outside, there were only two other people other than the bartender in the bar.
Where was everyone? Where had the cheering come from?
“If you’re here for the scrimmage, you’re late. They’re already out back.” A woman’s musical tones greeted me.
I could see a shaft of sunlight pouring in from one of the windows on the far side of the bar. A woman stepped into the sunlight, her brown hair glowing with dark blonde and red highlights. The shadows behind her were dark, but she glowed like the eternal flame.
I couldn’t move. I wasn’t sure I could breathe. This must be what it felt like to get hit with one of my lightning bolts. I could still see, hear, think—but I was paralyzed. I could do nothing but stare and hope my mouth wasn’t hanging open.
She was beautiful.
Tall, with a well-formed shape. She’d look amazing in a toga, which was still my preferred clothing, even though the leather jacket I wore made me look pretty damn good. She looked to be the age of my human form—somewhere between thirty and forty. I hadn’t wanted to be anything near a teenager. No way in Hades.
Her lips were pink, and her skin was clear and sun kissed, as though she spent time outside. Her hair was… I couldn’t tell in this light. But the sunlight caught glints of fiery gold as she moved. Her form was muscular. This was a woman who’d worked with her body during her life.
The idea of her body brought a flush to me that ran straight to my groin.
“Hello? Are you all right?” Her voice identified her as the woman who had initially spoken to me. She leaned against the bar, her delightful lips pressed together, moving toward a frown. Of concern?
I wanted this woman to be concerned for me.
I wanted her to be next to me. To be…
“Hey. Big man. Seriously. Are you all right?”
I’d never been both more and less all right in all my existence.
Chapter Three
Roxy
He was good looking. I’d give him that. He was tall, with wavy dark hair and dark eyes. Cheekbones that could slice things. He looked like he spent time outdoors, but not too much. I’d seen some guys—and ladies—come into the bar who really needed to invest in sunscreen and a hat. But not this guy.
No, he was the perfect level of just enough sun and good hair and excellent physique.
Whoa. Whoa, whoa, whoa.
I did not need to be ogling anyone, male or female, but especially male. While I was thirty-four, and according to my boss, Big Pete, and his wife Loretta, I was far too young to swear off romance.
But I had.
I did.
I couldn’t have any more romance. I just couldn’t.
I’d already lost out twice.Twice. The first time I fell in love, I was sure it was not only forever, but forever and beyond. Wade had been a year older than me, dark blond hair, laughing blue eyes, and he loved me with a similar passion.
Until he got cancer. Kidney cancer is a bitch.Anycancer is a bitch. To me, watching the man I love waste away to a memory of himself was the worst. Wade was aware until the end. I was with him, holding his hands. After that, I blessed hospice workers, and ignored the opposite sex.
But then I’d met Cameron. Like me, he loved motorcycles. I’d met him when I brought my Indian into his shop. It hadn’t been instant. He was hot, no doubt. But I was still mourning Wade, even though it had been three years. I wasn’t ready.
Cameron took his time. He wooed me. Gave me space, Made realize that he would keep me safe. Made mefeelsafe in addition to loving the daylights out of me.
Until he was hit by an inattentive driver, and like that, he was gone. I’d seen him in the morning before work, and by lunch, he was part of my past.
