Page 20 of Rambler's Snow Bunny
The bell above the door jingles as we push through, and a blast of air conditioning hits us. I sigh in relief as goosebumps rise along my arms.
A middle-aged waitress with a blonde ponytail and a name tag that says “Martha” approaches us with a friendly smile. “Y’all with the bike crowd?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Rambler says politely.
“Well, come on in.” She grabs a stack of menus from the hostess stand by the door. “We’ve been seeing bikers all day. Y’all having some kind of event?”
“Poker Run,” Klutch explains, as she leads us to a large booth in the back.
“Ah, that explains it,” Martha says. “Y’all make yourselves comfortable. I’ll be back in two shakes of a squirrel’s tail to take your orders.”
“Take your time, darlin’,” Train says, motioning for Cleo to slide into the booth.
Sliding into the booth next to Rambler, our thighs touch beneath the table. Like a schoolgirl, the simple contact sends a thrill through me. I haven’t been this physically attracted to anyone in... well, maybe ever.
“What are you getting?” I pick up the plastic menu and scan the options. I’m starving and everything sounds good right now. I feel like my big guts are eating my little guts.
“I don’t know. You know what you want?” Rambler asks, his arm coming to rest along the back of the booth behind me.
“Mmm, probably just a burger and fries,” I say, leaning against him. “And an Oreo shake.”
“A woman after my own heart.”
I swallow the lump in my throat. He doesn’t realize how much I wish that might be true.
Martha appears with glasses of water and takes our orders. I’m a little surprised when Rambler orders the exact same thing as me, right down to the Oreo shake.
While we wait for our food, the conversation flows easily. I’m surprised by how comfortable I feel with these people I barely know. Cleo is telling a story about how she met Train, and I find myself laughing along with everyone else.
“So there I was,” she says, waving her hands, “cussing like a sailor because my car had just died in the middle of nowhere. And this guy pulls up on his bike, takes one look at me, and says?—”
“Damn, girl, you look like my future wife,” Train finishes with a wicked grin.
Cleo smacks his arm playfully. “And I told him?—”
“If that’s your best pickup line, you’d better get back on that bike and keep on riding,” Demi guesses, making everyone laugh.
“Close!” Cleo points at her. “I actually told him if he thought that was going to get him anywhere with me, he was dumber than he looked.”
Train wraps an arm around her shoulders and pulls her close, planting a kiss on her temple. “And yet here we are, six years later.”
“Here we are,” Cleo agrees, her face softening as she looks at him.
There’s something so sweet and genuine about the way they are together. You can tell he’s crazier than a flippin’ loon, but the bond between them is strong, and I find myself envying it.
Will I ever have that?
Martha comes back again with our food, setting plates in front of each of us. The burger I ordered is massive, topped with cheeseand bacon, and a heap of golden steak fries beside it. My Oreo shake is thick enough that the straw stands straight up in the glass.
“This looks amazing,” I say, picking up the burger with both hands.
Rambler watches me take my first bite, his eyes darkening when I let out a little moan of pleasure. “Good?”
I nod, covering my mouth with my hand. “So good.”
He picks up his burger and takes a bite of his own, and we all fall into a lull of silence as we devour our food. As I dunk my fries in ketchup and pop them in my mouth, I steal glances at Rambler from the corner of my eye.
He’s beautiful.
