Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 76022 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 380(@200wpm)___ 304(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76022 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 380(@200wpm)___ 304(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
Feeling slightly more comfortable with that, I grabbed my purse. Reaching into the glovebox, I grabbed my mace, an eye gouger, and a little pocketknife. Comforted, yes. But not naive. Bad things happened to women when there were other women around all the time. And I knew better than anyone how scary even seemingly good men could be.
I climbed out of the car, still trying to decide if I was going inside. When, suddenly, a flashlight shot up from somewhere in the back and landed on me.
Panic surged, adrenaline flooding my veins, my heartbeat tripping faster and faster as the light approached and footsteps crunched, but I couldn’t make out the shadow approaching me.
A floodlight flicked on, bathing the whole parking lot in light and illuminating the man who’d been approaching me.
Coach.
“Este.”
God, the way his voice curved around my name made all that adrenaline morph into desire.
Then, when I just stood there dumbly, too overwhelmed with sensation to form a single rational thought, he went on.
“You came.”
“What were you doing?” I asked.
“Hm?”
“With the flashlight.”
“Oh. I was checking on the chicken coop. I’ve seen some silver foxes around here lately. I wanted to make sure they were locked up tight.”
“In the middle of a party?”
“I like to take a break now and again. Clear my head. Get some air. You still deciding if you’re coming in?” he asked.
Not anymore.
“I heard there was going to be good food.”
“The best. Let’s go get you a plate. Oh, and if you see a gray cat with blue eyes, do yourself a favor and don’t get too close to him.”
“Unfriendly?”
“Only toward women.”
“Huh. I have a dog that is unfriendly only to men.”
“Which is why you got her in the first place,” Coach said, holding the front door open for me, the music and laughter spilling out.
“It is,” I agreed.
“Can’t be too careful.”
My purse was heavy with the proof of those words.
“Exactly.”
Though as I followed Coach into the clubhouse, I got the feeling I was in very unsafe territory.
But it wasn’t exactly my body that needed protection.
CHAPTER FOUR
Este
I had no idea what I’d conjured up in my mind about what a biker club might look like.
I imagined some of the things before me were there: the pool table, darts, foosball, air hockey, stereo system, the beer pong table, the bar, and a massive TV.
Other than that, though, the place was a lot cozier and better decorated than I’d pictured.
It still had that industrial feel to it, thanks to the many windows, the high ceilings, brick walls, and the exposed ceiling beams (original rust included). But the floors were refinished. The sectional was oversized and plush. There was a giant dining table and just beyond that, a gorgeous kitchen meant for some award-winning chef.
There were touches around—a throw pillow here, a curtain there—that made me think there were women around this club who did more than party with the bikers.
“Wow,” I said, nodding.
I don’t know how he heard me over the music, but Coach turned back, giving me a soft smile.
“Not what you were expecting?”
“Well, parts of it.” I waved toward the game stations, the bar, the woman who currently had her top off, leaving her in a hot pink push-up bra.
“Can I get you a drink?”
“Maybe after I have something to eat,” I said as another girl whipped off her jean shorts.
I suddenly felt way overdressed in my simple white sundress. What can I say? It had been a long time since I’d attended any sort of party. I should have assumed a biker club party would likely require the same outfit as a college kegger.
“Alright. I know I’ve only been in town a few weeks, but I’m relatively sure there’s nowhere around here to get a spread like this.”
The kitchen island was covered in a surprising array of dishes from boneless wings and loaded potato skins to thickly sliced steak and sheet pan roasted vegetables.
“I’ll never knock the local food, but this is all cooked by Detroit. He’s one of our club brothers.”
“Does he freelance? Perhaps to create weekly meal prep for a single woman who is usually so elbow-deep in paint and sawdust that she forgets to eat?”
“Fixing up your place?” Coach asked, passing me a plate.
The guys had clearly attacked the appetizers and steak with relish, but I had my eyes on the roasted veggies and the incredible-looking garden salad.
“The house was a complete disaster,” I admitted. “Which was why I got it so cheap in the first place. I mean, on move-in day, my foot went clear through the rotted wood of the front porch. I got to meet Dr. Price as I went in for a fresh tetanus shot.”
“I can fix the front porch if you need it.”
“That’s really sweet,” I said, giving him a warm smile. “But I fixed it.”
“I guess you must know your way around a toolbox if you got a maintenance job with the Novikoff brothers.”