Page 7 of Slow Ride

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Kason hooted as he took the sweeping curves through the woods leading to Hot Rides faster than he ought.Not because of the rush of adrenaline, though he’d be lying if he didn’t welcome that taste of the forbidden.He did it because he knew his bodyguard—Van Hernandez—would be scowling fiercely in his fancy black pickup truck with heavily tinted windows, which trailed the purple-and-orange customized Ducati Diavel power cruiser Kason was hoping to have enhanced and fine-tuned while he was in town.

Fortunately, Van had never yet kicked his ass, though he’d threatened to when Kason’s thrill-seeking tendencies had gotten out of hand with excessive drinking, drugs, and gambling in the past year or two.His friend’s concern had convinced Kason to take some time off, ground himself, and get help.

For some of his problems, anyway.

So far no one—not even Van or his counselor—had figured out the real reason he’d done all that dumb shit.And Kason was planning on keeping it that way.

Van would have to deal with Kason’s minor rebellion.

Hell, he’d even worn a helmet.How much more could the man ask of him even if it was his job to keep Kason safe?

Too soon, the winding country road led him to a painted sign.It was black with flames in the background and the silhouette of a motorcycle up front.Hot Rideswas lettered in silver inside the shape of the bike.

Kason deliberately signaled before making the right into the long driveway that led to the specialty shop, which was gaining quite a reputation for the quality of their work.Hopefully his adherence to the road rules would be enough to appease Van.

Even better yet would be if Hot Rides lived up to the things people were saying about it.

Kason had amassed a pretty significant collection of motorcycles.He had tons of ideas for upgrading his current fleet and things he’d like to buy or build to expand it even more…ifhe could find the right partners to do the work.

One downside to being famous was that everyone thought you should have a rich-guy tax applied to work you hired out.Either that or you should be excited to take freebies for publicity instead of paying for what you’d really like best and enjoying it in private instead of as some glorified circus animal.He shook his head at his admittedly first-world problems.

Still, if the mechanics at Hot Rides were both high-quality and fair, he’d be back.Over and over.They wouldn’t be able to get rid of him.

When the garage came into sight, Kason revved the engine and zoomed ahead.He parked and climbed off the bike before Van could catch up, eliminating his opportunity to deliver a lecture.Van was too damn careful to break the speed limit or do anything even a little naughty.

That’s probably why he kept striking out with Kason’s drummer, Kyra.

Which was none of Kason’s damn business.He was their boss, not their nosey neighbor.So he pretended not to notice whatever the hell was—or wasn’t—going on between the two, whom he considered friends in addition to employees.

Kason had enough to worry about keeping his own life in order.One way he did that was by immersing himself in non-damaging hobbies, as his therapist referred to them.

Translation: buying more motorcycles and fancying up the ones he already had was A-OK.

He strode to the office portion of Hot Rides and went inside, amused by the mini-rev noise that replaced a standard tinkling bell to announce his visit.At about the same time, a woman emerged from the garage, which he glimpsed through a large plate glass window.

The space was immaculate.Workstations were laid out neatly and the equipment was all top-brand stuff.Photographs of past builds wallpapered the office and he found himself drooling over nearly every one.Though not as much as his mouth watered for the Hot Rides receptionist.

The tall, willowy blonde behind the counter tempted him to throw away his new rule.The one about meaningless sex going on the no-no list.Maybe that had been a stupid restraint to place on himself, but the truth was he hadn’t been enjoying his hookups any more than he had the endless shots and thousands of dollars he’d wagered—and lost—on dumb shit.

When he’d overindulged, he’d gone numb to the thrill of things that used to excite him.

Even music had become a chore.The thing he’d dedicated his whole life to being his best at.The career he’d fought for since he’d run away from home at sixteen.He’d never forget forging that shitty ID so that he could play in bars and earn enough for a hot meal or two, even if it wasn’t enough for a place to stay, before moving on to the next town.Those fast-food dinners had tasted better than some of the exclusive chef specials he’d eaten since.

It was all a matter of perspective, and with success, he’d completely skewed his own.

He’d gotten spoiled.

Kason wasn’t about to throw away all that hard work and a decade of dreams just because he couldn’t haveeverythinghe wanted.There was still plenty of stuff he could enjoy.

He leaned in and very deliberately took off his sunglasses, prepared for his new obsession to shriek and fawn over him.

Except she didn’t.

Instead, she arched one perfect brow and asked, “How can I help you?”

By coming for a ride with me.On my bike, and in my bed.

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