Road to Passion (5 page)

He shrugged. “I get it, Darien.”

“I think you might.”

“What’s your schedule like this
week?” he asked. “I want to know how much time I have to woo you.”

“Oh, woo me, wow.” I giggled. “I
work forty hours. Typically seven to four. My commute’s about half an hour
home. What about you?”

“My schedule’s always flexible
unless I’m in court or there’s a club meeting. Other than Wednesday night,
nothin’ comin’ up for a couple of weeks.”

“Well, other than work, I don’t
have any plans.”

“I’ll figure somethin’ out then.”

“Perfect.” I sipped my wine.

“Wanna do something tomorrow?”

“I’d love to.”

“I should go. I’ll pick you up
around noon, yeah?” he asked, and rose to his feet.

I left my wine on the coffee
table and also stood, following him as he took his beer to the kitchen. “I’ll
take care of that.”

“Thanks.” He smiled, setting it
on the counter. “You still mad?”

I frowned. “I was never mad, just
irked.”

“Still irked?”

“Honey, that was over the second
you apologized.”

“That easy?”

I giggled. “Sometimes.”

“I like that.” He leaned down and
kissed me.

I walked him to the door and held
it open as he stepped into the hallway. “What are we doing tomorrow?”

“Don’t know yet.”

“That’s not helpful, Logan. A
girl needs to know what she’s wearing.”

“Jeans and boots if you’ve got
’em. We’re on my bike.”

I grinned. “Got it.”

He stroked my cheek. “You’re
beautiful, Darien.”

I let out a snort. “It’s the beer
talkin’.”

He tagged my chin. “I got a rule,
baby.”

“You do?”

“Yeah. No one insults my woman,
including that woman.”

My heart raced. “I’m your woman?”

“Yeah, Darien. You’re my woman.”

“Do I have any say in it?”

He smiled. “Not today.”

“Bossy.”

“Lots of practice,” he whispered
as he leaned down again.

I rolled my eyes but gave him one
more kiss. “Text me when you get home.”

He waited for me to lock up again
and then I heard his footsteps as he left my apartment building. I waited until
he texted me and then I fell into bed, my dreams filled with the delicious
Mack.

S
UNDAY, I TRIED not to stress (too much)
about the fact that I was going on my first date with Mack. However, the fact I
was doing it on the back of his bike was something I was more nervous about. My
New Year’s resolution had been to try new things and get out of my comfort
zone, but that didn’t change the fact I was the biggest chicken on the planet.
And, let’s be honest, motorcycles were dangerous.

Pauley was still asleep, par for
the course on the nights she worked past midnight, so I got ready as quietly as
I could. I was pulling my leather jacket out of the coat closet when a quiet
knock came on my front door. After checking the peephole, I opened the door and
put my finger to my lips. “Pauley’s still asleep,” I whispered.

Mack nodded, but he still pulled
me close for a mind-blowing, albeit silent kiss. “Hi.” He took a sweeping
glance over my body. “You look beautiful.”

I grinned. “Thank you. So do
you.”

And he did. Dark jeans sat low on
his hips, a tight, black long-sleeved T-shirt, the front tucked into the front
of jeans, clear of his belt buckle. Black motorcycle boots that looked well
worn, but no less hot, matched the black leather jacket he wore over his
clothing.

I wore almost what he wore, only
brown leather boots and brown leather jacket, plus a lacy, creamy pink off the
shoulder sweater (more cream than pink because my redhead complexion just
couldn’t handle
too
much pink) that enhanced what the good Lord gave me.

“Can I bring a purse?”

“Yeah, babe,” he said. “Where’s
your dog?”

“I put him in with Pauley.” I
grabbed my purse, left a note for Pauley, and followed Mack out of the
apartment. After locking up, he took my hand and led me downstairs to the back
of my building.

I must have started dragging
because he squeezed my hand and faced me. “You okay?”

“Yep,” I said, but I was shaking
my head. He raised an eyebrow. “Nope. I’m scared to death of motorcycles.”

He smiled, dropping my hand and
cupping my face. “I’m good, Darien. I will keep you safe.”

“I’m not concerned about your
ability, honey. I’m concerned about the morons on the road. You do know Oregon
drivers are the worst! There’s rain,
ew
. There’s sunshine,
ew
.
There’s traffic,
ew
.” Every time I said “ew,” I used jazz hands to drive
home the drama, and admittedly, I was now rambling. However, Mack was laughing.
I scowled. “Oh, suck it.”

This just made him laugh harder,
but he leaned down and kissed me gently, a smile still on his lips. “Trust me
to avoid the crazies, yeah?”

I nodded. “Okay. Do you have a
helmet?”

“Yeah, baby, I have a helmet.”

“For me, Logan.”

“I know what you were asking.”

I took a deep breath. “Right.
Okay.”

“You ready now?”

I nodded again and he led me to
his gorgeous Harley Fatboy. It was all black and chrome and suited him to a
tee. He took my purse and secured it in one of his lockable side luggage
thingies and then handed me a very serious looking helmet. I pulled it on
kissing my somewhat carefully styled hair goodbye and he helped me secure the
chinstrap. He stationed me next to the bike, climbed on, and then guided me on
behind him. “Hands around my waist, tight, lean when I lean.”

I nodded and he pulled his helmet
on, started the bike, and raised the kickstand. I slid my arms around him, but
he pulled them closer, and then we were off.

And I hated it. Every second of
it. By the time we pulled over, I was sure I’d fused my body to his. I didn’t
know where we were. I just knew I was so glad we’d stopped, I thought I might
cry happy, sobby tears right then and there.

With me still clinging to him, he
turned off the bike, pulled off his helmet, and lowered the kickstand. Reaching
behind me, he helped me off the bike and onto my wholly unstable legs. He
didn’t release me as he also climbed off, and then (with one hand) he released
my chin strap. “Can you take this off?”

I nodded and pushed the helmet
off my head. “Are we here?”

He shook his head. “We’re at my
place.”

“Oh,” I said, and glanced around.
“Is this our date?”

“No, baby.”

“You’re really lacking in the
information department, Logan.”

Mack smiled. “Honey, you were
shakin’ so bad, I thought you’d cause enough turbulence to crash us.”

I gasped. “Is that possible?
Turbulence, I mean?”

“No, Darien. But you freakin’ out
and crashin’ us? That
is
possible... if I weren’t a better rider.”

“Ohmigod, I’m so sorry.” I
swallowed and dropped my head.

He lifted my chin and gave me a
gentle smile. “Hey, it’s okay,” he said, and wrapped his arms around me.

I fell against him, both
embarrassed and mortified... oh, and totally humiliated. I pushed away from him
and crossed my arms. “I’m okay,” I breathed out. “We can try again.”

Mack shook his head. “I’m gonna
put my bike away and we’re gonna take my car.”

“I’m so sorry, Logan.” I bit my
lip. “I’ve ruined everything.”

“Darien,” he said with a chuckle.
“You haven’t ruined anything. We’re just making a little change.” He stepped to
the garage and entered a code into the panel on the frame. The door groaned as
it opened, and he walked his bike inside. He set his helmet on the seat and
mine on a shelf in the garage and then grabbed my purse from the locked side
thingy. “Do you want a tour or go?”

“I’d love to see your home.”

He reached out his hand and I
closed the distance between us, taking my purse and then linking my fingers
with his. Mack guided me into the spacious kitchen and dropped his keys on the
granite island before turning off the alarm.

Although his home had a definite
masculine vibe, it was clean and tidy, and surprisingly spacious. He had three
bedrooms, two bathrooms, a den, great room and the kitchen was incredible.
State of the art stainless appliances, big center island with sink and
dishwasher, and leather seated stools that fit perfectly with the decor.

There was also a basement with a
pool table, huge sectional and seventy-inch television. A bathroom downstairs
(not so clean) finished off the space.

We headed back up to the kitchen
and Mack grabbed a different set of keys. “I can hear you thinking.”

I smiled. “That’s a really
impressive gift.”

He pulled me to him, sitting on
one of the stools so we were face to face. “What?”

“I just feel bad.”

“Why?”

I couldn’t look at him, but I
managed to confess, “Because I’m a big fat chicken.”

Mack dropped his head back and
laughed.

“I don’t find this very funny.” I
frowned at him. “How can I date someone in a motorcycle ga—I mean, club, if I’m
afraid to get on the back of his motorcycle?” I bit my lip. “I don’t want to
embarrass you.”

“Darien.” He sobered and shook
his head. “Not everyone feels comfortable on the back of a bike. It doesn’t
make you a big fat chicken or an embarrassment to me.”

I looped my hands around his
neck. “I had this whole plan to be a little more adventurous this year, and my
second time out, I’ve failed.”

“Your second? When was the
first?”

“The night I met you.” I smiled.
“Technically, I guess
that
was the second because the first time I came
I was turned away at the door.”

He gave me a gentle squeeze.
“There’s a reason for that.”

“So I keep hearing.”

“
Blush
is a meat market,
Darien. Not a good place for someone like you... or Dani for that matter.
Booker and I made a decision a while ago that we still feel is the right one
today, but I will admit, Kim forcing the issue meant I found you.”

“People like me?”

“Let’s say, not promiscuous.”

“You have no idea if I’m
promiscuous or not. I might look sweet and innocent, but I could be a total
slut for all you know.”

“Yeah?” he challenged. “How many
men have you slept with?”

“Hundreds.”

Mack raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

“No, of course not, I’m just
trying to make a point here. And, by the way, Millie isn’t promiscuous and she
would have been let in last time, but she chose to leave with me.”

“The rule isn’t always perfect,”
he admitted. “Regardless, and at the risk of getting hit, I’d venture a guess
you’ve had a couple relationships, but that’d be about it.”

I shrugged.

“Close?” he asked.

I shook my head.

“Really?”

“I haven’t had any.”

“What?” He dropped his hands from
my waist. “You’re a fuckin’ virgin, Darien?”

I stepped back, a little
surprised by his anger.

Mack stood and paced the kitchen,
dragging his hands down his face. “Shit.”

“I’m going to call a cab.”

He raised his hand. “No, you’re
gonna stay right there and let me process this.”

“No, I don’t think I am.”

He stalked toward me. “Darien,
just give me a second, okay?”

“Why? So you can find yet another
thing lacking in me?”

“Babe, who the fuck told you you
were lacking... in anything?”

“It doesn’t matter,” I snapped.

Mack took a deep breath and
grabbed my hand, pulling me into the great room. He sat in one of the
overstuffed chairs and settled me on his lap. “We’re gonna talk.”

I crossed my arms and forced down
my need to flee.

“Why are you a virgin, Darien?”
he asked. “Is it religious based?”

I shook my head. “No. It’s Dork
Darien based.”

“What do you mean?”

“I feel like it’s a little early
in our... relationship to unload all of that on you.”

“Can’t get to know each other if
we don’t unload.”

“Remember, you asked for it.” I
sighed. “My dad split when Pauley was nine, I was four. My mom didn’t take it
well. Pauley said about a year after Dad left, Mom checked out on life,
sleeping with different men on a pretty regular basis, drinking a ton of vodka,
that kind of thing. I don’t ever remember having a dad or a sober mom, but I
was still a pretty happy kid because Pauley took care of me. But I was chubby,
probably because we ate mac and cheese every day, and not the good stuff. Not
enough money for Kraft, so we got the generic kind and when you’re raised on
ramen noodles, crappy boxed food, and white bread, you don’t get a whole lot of
nutrition. I was always in my own world, so I didn’t really realize I was fat
until I went to middle school and I was told... every day. When I was about
twelve, Mom met this really nice man, Mike, who had money, well, at least more
money than we’d ever seen. They were married for about three or four years, and
he paid for braces, which was awesome, but it meant I was now the fat,
freckled, red-headed, brace-face, dork in middle school. It didn’t help that my
sister was totally hot and in touch with her sexuality. Well, as in touch as
you can be as a teenager. Mike divorced Mom when I was sixteen and she spiraled
into the bottle again. Nothing was ever her fault. Not her affair with her
coworker, not her affair with Mike’s best friend. None of it.”

“Babe,” he whispered.

“Pauley was my only constant. Mom
was never a mom, even when she was “happy,” she wasn’t there. It was always all
about her, so I had to navigate being the fat, freckled, red-headed, brace-face
dork with Pauley as my guide. She tried, she really did, but she was a kid as
well, and she’d lost far more than me because she knew our dad. She also had a
real mom, even if it wasn’t for long. And she was gorgeous. Me, not so much, so
she couldn’t relate to what I was going through. She was popular, I was not.
She was sexy, I was not. Just before I turned eighteen, Mom died of liver
cancer, and Pauley had to petition the courts to keep us together for the three
months I had before I turned eighteen and it sucked, but she did it. Then I
started working full time, she’d already been working full-time, but college
wasn’t really an option, so we did what we had to do. By the time I figured out
I was no longer the fat, freckled, red-headed, brace-face girl... still the
dork, mind you, but starting to feel a little more comfortable in my skin... I
had no time or energy to date. Let’s face it; I wasn’t going to find an
eligible man under the age of eighty where I work, so here I sit, twenty-two,
still fully complete with hymen.”

Mack tried to keep from laughing,
but he failed. “Sorry, baby, I don’t mean to laugh, honestly, but you really
are fuckin’ funny when I least expect it.”

“Defense mechanism.”

“You’re beautiful, Darien. Last
night proved it for me.”

I smiled. “The bun was workin’
for you, huh?”

“Everything about you works for
me, baby. I’m tryin’ not to let that freak me out too much.”

“Well, you kind of failed a
little bit today.”