Me, please Page 3

  It’s what he does every afternoon. Smokes and has a beer or five. I don’t mind it, because we sit and chat, but it is a shame to see him smoking. He’s too good to be taken by something like that. But we all have a vice, I suppose.

  “She was great, we went for a walk, checked out the hot runners again.”

  Boston grunts and takes a deep inhale of his cigarette. “That girl is a menace.”

  “She’s female, it’s not unusual.”

  “You look too, then?” he asks, glancing at me.

  He is absolutely spectacular, I can’t deny it. Everything about him, from his rugged face, to his large muscled body, right down to the boots he never ties, is utter perfection. All of the bikers have that feel, and all of them own it. Boston is the kind of man you want to curl into, wrapping his arms around you, nestling your head into his chest until you feel safe.

  I shrug, remembering his question. “I’m a woman too. I looked.”

  “How come you don’t have a man by now? Know your husband was a douche, but you’re a beautiful woman, you should be out there ownin’ that.”

  I flush. That’s one of the nicest things he’s ever said to me.

  “I don’t know, I haven’t found one I’m interested in, and honestly, I’ve been enjoying just being by myself.”

  He nods, inhaling again and blowing the smoke out slowly, forcing me to look away because it looks so damned sexy. “Fair call.”

  “What about you?” I ask him. “How come you haven’t found yourself a woman?”

  He grunts. “Don’t really do women, caused me nothin’ but pain in the past.”

  “That’s a sad attitude to have.”

  He stares at me, and I smile softly at him.

  “Maybe so, but it would take a lot for me to change my mind on that.”

  No doubt.

  I wonder what kind of women he’s had, if he’s so against them?

  “Fair enough,” I tell him.

  “You heard anymore from your douchebag husband this week?”

  Boston knows about my troubles with Ashton, my ex-husband. I told him when I took the job, just in case he started any trouble when I was caring for Cassie.

  “No,” I tell him. “I think he’s away for work so I get a week off.”

  “You want me to deal with him?”

  He always says this, too.

  “No thanks,” I laugh. “But I appreciate it all the same.”

  “He bothers you, don’t hesitate to tell me. I fuckin’ hate assholes that pick on women.”

  I nod. “Noted.”

  “How’d you pull up after last night?” he asks me.

  Last night, we all went out and had a few drinks. It was a great night, and I got to spend time with the girls from the club which I don’t get to do very often. It was a nice change from my day to day usual.

  “I was fine, I didn’t drink too much. Amalie took me home. How about you?”

  He nods. “Pulled up fine. Took Chantelle home, then got back here and crashed.”

  Oh.

  For some odd reason, that seems to make my chest feel funny. Not in an insane jealous kind of way, just in an off kind of way. I adore Chantelle, she’s the funniest most bubbly woman I’ve ever met, and she’s gorgeous, absolutely stunning. She asked me last night if Boston and I had anything going on, and I told her no, because we don’t. And yet, for some reason, I don’t feel completely okay with knowing she is into him.

  Even though she has every right to be.

  She had the courtesy of even asking me, and that raises her in my books.

  And I told her the truth, I think. I mean, we don’t actually have anything going on. We’re becoming good friends, we talk often, laugh a bit, and he’s almost like my rock, but is there anything romantic? I don’t think so. I mean, there have been a few lingering stares, a few random touches, and a few moments where I have felt something more than friendship, but he’s never pushed it.

  So I’ve never asked.

  And honestly, I really don’t know what it is I want.

  “That’s nice you took her home,” I finally tell him.

  “Yeah, saves waitin’ for a cab. She was out there wearin’ next to nothin’, standin’ by herself.”

  “I thought she would have gone home with Saskia.”

  “You see the way Mason was lookin’ at Saskia? Nobody was gettin’ a ride home with them.”

  I laugh. “You’re right about that.”

  “I’m goin’ to have a shower, you stayin’ for dinner?” he asks me, staring down once he’s stood.

  From down here, he looks so big and strong. So powerful. I stare up at him, and my heart does do a strange little flutter.

  “I can cook if you like?”

  He studies me. “Sounds good.”

  He turns and walks inside, and I face the thick row of trees above his fence line and exhale.

  My life feels like a complicated mess right now, even though everything is going seemingly well. I have a job, I have made some great friends, and I’m happy, overall. Yet it still feels like everything is a jumbled mess, and my emotions are getting the better of me.

  I can’t make sense of any of it, and yet I can’t seem to stop it from happening, either.

  I probably need a vacation.

  Or maybe I just need a whole new life?

  Who knows.

  Either way, I hope things start feeling better soon.

  ~3~

  EARLIER – CHANTELLE

  Work sucks.

  Donkey balls.

  That’s putting it mildly.

  I didn’t get home from my shift at a local restaurant until past midnight last night, and it’s safe to say I’m screwed. I don’t mind the extra cash, but I’m starting to think the extra sleep might be nice, too. Thankfully, it’s my day off and I’m more than ready to do absolutely freaking nothing.

  Nothing at all.

  Zero.

  I sip my dark black coffee and sit at the kitchen table. It’s already nine, which means I slept longer than I probably should have, but I needed it and, to be fair, I earned it. I didn’t have any big plans for the day, anyway. Saskia is working, so she’s out. And I’m quite happy to lie on my sofa and do nothing but watch some cheesy soaps all day.

  My doorbell rings, and I look up, literally scowling at my door.

  You can’t be serious?

  Who in their right ever loving mind would be here at this time of the morning? And most importantly, why? Why would they want to come to my house?

  I can only think it might be Saskia, perhaps she has a day off that I didn’t know about.

  I don’t know who else would bother coming over this early.

  I stand up with an exaggerated huff and walk over to the door, not caring that my hair is still thrown up in a messy bun, I’m wearing nothing but a tank and short shorts, and I probably look like shit. I swing the door open and my eyes get big. Well. This is absolutely not who I expected to be at my door.

  Boston stands, two coffees in hand, staring at me.

  He looks god damned incredible, all decked out in his leathers, blue jeans, those boots he never ties. And I forget, for a small moment, what I’m wearing and how I look. Then, I remember and squeak, “What are you doing here?”

  His eyes run, slowly, so damned slowly, down my body until he stops at my tiny shorts, then he moves back up until he’s holding my eyes again. By now, my skin is prickling all over, because good lord that was intense.

  “You want to go for a ride?”

  I cross my arms, trying to hide the fact that I’m braless and my boobs just went on full alert at the sight of a hot biker standing in my door. “Well, last time you said that, we most certainly went for a ride ... You’re going to need to be clearer.”

  He grins and, I swear, if I was wearing panties, they would have melted right off.

  “On my bike.”

  He wants to take me out? On his bike? Unexpectedly? I’m not going to lie, I feel a little
giddy because I really didn’t expect to see him again after he left the other night. I figured a fuck was all it was and we weren’t going to do it again. I certainly didn’t think he would be here, coffee in hand, asking me if I basically wanted to hang out with him today.

  I grin. “You want to take me out?”

  He stares at me. “That’s what I asked, isn’t it?”

  “In public?”

  “Not wearin’ that I’m not.”

  I half laugh, half blush and keep my arms across my chest. “To be fair, honey, I did just get out of bed.”

  “It’s nine am.”

  “I worked late,” I protest.

  “Well, go and get changed and we can have this coffee and go.”

  I stare at him, narrowing my eyes. “Why can’t we have the coffee first?”

  “Because if you stay in those shorts, I’m going to pull them to the side, release my cock, and slide it home without hesitation. I’m horny as fuck, and you look fuckin’ good. So, go and get changed. I didn’t come here to fuck you, I came here to take you out.”

  I swallow, and I know my cheeks are pink, but damn, nobody has ever spoken to me like that. So crude, and yet so weirdly gentlemanly. Strange man.

  “Okay,” I say, turning and hurrying down the hall and into my bedroom.

  I quickly clean up, get changed into a pair of jeans and a tank, and then pull my hair up into a pony tail before joining Boston back at my kitchen table. I sit down and he slides the coffee toward me. “So,” I ask, sipping it and moaning because damn, it’s good. “Why are you taking me out today? Don’t you have any friends to hang out with?”

  He stares at me, blankly. “Got plenty, wanted to do somethin’ different. You’re fun, I gotta get away from the club sometimes.”

  Fair call.

  I can’t say I blame him.

  “What did you have in mind?” I ask, holding his eyes and wanting to just stay here and fuck him all day long, slow, and hard, maybe all at the same time.

  “I don’t make plans, I just go with it. We’ll get on the bike and see where we end up.”

  I smile—I like that plan. “I like that lack of a plan.”

  He sips his coffee and, for a moment, we both fall silent.

  “You have anything else you wanted to do today?” he asks me.

  I shake my head. “No, sir, I’m all yours.”

  His eyes flash, and I cross my legs to stop the ache that’s already beginning to form, and I haven’t even touched him, or sat close to him. Imagine how hard that’s going to be when I’m tucked on that bike behind him. The very thought of spending the day pressed against his back makes me ache so hard I have to squirm a little to change position. It does nothing to ease it.

  I’m filled with nervous anticipation at what the day might bring.

  And also, utterly thrilled Boston wants to hang out with me.

  It’s been a long time since I’ve just hung out with a man. Usually, it’s either sex or we’re dating, there isn’t a great deal of in between.

  I’m totally up for in between.

  Hell, maybe even a bit of both.

  Yeah, definitely a bit of both.

  ~*~*~*~

  CHANTELLE

  I’ll never get over this bike. I swear it.

  It just gets better and better.

  Granted, I’ve only been on it twice, but the feeling it gives me is out of this world. It’s complete and utter freedom. A space to escape. No wonder Boston is in a motorcycle club, I bet he joined just to enjoy one of these babies all the time. I know I would, hell yes, I definitely would. If only girls could join clubs. I could see myself in a leather vest, riding around on a hot Harley Davidson.

  I curl my fingers into Boston’s jacket, loving how hard his body is, still gloating that he came to my house to take me out. Without asking. He just did it, because he wanted to hang out with me. That feels nice. I may be a confident girl, but it is still so very rare for a man to go out of his way to hang out. Usually, we girls have to do the chasing, and if we’re ballsy enough not to, then it’s a fifty/fifty chance as to whether the man will come after us, or lose interest and find a girl who will chase him.

  Sigh.

  Men aren’t men anymore.

  But Boston?

  Definitely a man.

  We ride for what feels like hours, actually, I think it very likely is. But the time passes quickly, as we wind up and down roads, through trees, up mountains, and the scenery is utterly breathtaking from a bike. I can see everything, feel everything, breathe in the fresh scent of the air. I can feel when it changes from hot to cold as we ride past a cluster of trees, and when we’re in the sun, the heat warms my whole body, making me feel completely at peace.

  I’ve never experienced anything like it, and I never want to get off.

  Boston stops at a café slash gas station probably an hour and a half out of town, and we both slide off the bike. My legs tremble, and I reach out automatically, using him to steady myself.

  “Sorry,” I laugh, croakily. “My legs are wobbly.”

  “That goes away the more time you spend on a bike,” Boston tells me, but he lets me hang onto him, and I adore him for that.

  When I have better control of my legs, we walk in through the front doors. I still feel tingly vibrations running through my body. I didn’t realize how rattily that bike is, but I’m not complaining. It’s a glorious feeling.

  “You hungry?” Boston asks me.

  “Starving!” He stares at me, and I blink. “What?”

  “Never seen a woman openly admit to hunger before. You’re all usually shy and act like your stomach is not eating itself.”

  I laugh. “Not me, honey. I love food. Can’t you tell?”

  I look down at my jeans. I have curvy thighs, but hell if I don’t love them. They’re my best feature. Boston’s eyes drag down my body, and his lips part slightly before he looks back to me. “If eatin’ makes you look that fuckin’ good, keep it up.”

  I grin at him, and his eyes lighten, just a touch, before he walks up to the counter. “What will you eat?”

  “Whatever you eat,” I say, stretching. “Surprise me, I’m going to use the restroom.”

  I walk off before he can answer and head to the restrooms. I do my business, splash some water on my face, tidy my hair up and then head back out to join Boston who is waiting at a table. I sit across from him, and his eyes lock onto mine almost immediately. It feels nice, to have someone solely focused on me. No phone. No distractions. He’s just here, watching me.

  “You like swimmin’?”

  I nod. “Isn’t it a bit cold?”

  “Dare to live, Chantelle.”

  I grin at him. “That was poetic, Boston. I’m convinced. Where are we going?”

  “You’ll see.”

  We make general chit chat until our order is called. Boston gets the bags of food and we both walk back outside to the bike. He has little storage type bags on either side of the back seat, and he opens them and puts the food in, as well as a couple of bottles of soda, and then we climb back on. My stomach grumbles with anticipation, but the idea of getting back on the bike with him is even more thrilling.

  We ride only a little way up the road and stop at a massive lake surrounded by thick forest and large green grassy patches where people are sitting on blankets, or at the wooden tables and chairs scattered about. It’s absolutely gorgeous, the water a dark greenish blue. It’s inviting, that’s for sure. And the sun is hitting it right in the middle Perfect.

  We find a spot on a soft patch of grass and sit down. Boston opens the bag and passes me a wrapped item of food and a soda. I don’t wait, I open it up and reveal an incredible looking burger that makes my mouth water. Oh, God. Yum. I take a bite and moan with satisfaction. It tastes incredible. So damned good. I might just die.

  “So,” I say after I’ve swallowed a few bites, “why did you decide to hang out with me?”

  He takes a bite of his burger and watch
es me a few moments as he chews and swallows, and I take those few moments to admire the way his jaw flexes and the muscles in his cheek jump. “I like you.”

  “That’s it?” I ask him, taking a sip of the cold soda. “No offense, but you don’t really seem like the type to go out of your way to make many friends. Honestly, I thought we were just having a bit of fun for a night, and that was that. I was surprised to see you this morning, but I’m certainly not complaining.”

  He studies me, those eyes scanning across my face, making me feel funny inside. A good funny, the soft kind.

  “Don’t usually get along with my one-night stands,” he tells me, with brutal honesty. “Been a fuckin’ long time since I’ve had decent conversation with a woman. Saskia is basically part of the club, which means you’re involved to an extent. So, why not hang out more?”

  “I won’t argue with that.” I grin. “I’m always up for new friends. Especially ones with bikes.”

  He grunts and takes another bite of his burger.

  “You and Penny seem to be good friends, too?”

  I shouldn’t question it, because it does make me feel uneasy. Mostly because I’m not entirely sure I want to know the answer. I mean, I’m flattered he felt we got along well enough to continue to try and talk to me, but I also know him and Penny get along well, too. Which is totally understandable; she’s a great girl, and very hard not to like.

  “Penny is my sister’s carer, didn’t get much choice in getting along with her. But yeah, she is a friend.”

  “She’s a nice lady,” I say, taking another bite.

  “She told me you asked her if it was okay to pursue me.”

  I nearly choke on my food and look at him, eyes wide, trying to stop them from watering. “She did?” I finally wheeze.

  “Yeah. She’s a pretty open girl. Why’d you ask her that?”

  Awkward.

  “Well,” I say to him, honestly, “there was a look she gave me, when I mentioned you. And I thought you two might have been together and freaked out, apologizing to her. She told me you weren’t together, and she was totally fine with me talking to you and ... well ... yeah.”

  His eyes flash with something, only I’m not sure what it is. I’d almost say it’s a little confusion, or maybe even disappointment. God, Saskia isn’t right ... is she? Penny and Boston don’t have some sort of thing going on that I don’t know about?