5 Bikers for Valentines

“Nothing,” he snapped, breaking himself out of his reverie. “Forget I said anything.”

I didn't care enough about Adam to push the issue. If he didn't want to talk to me about it, that was his choice. That was fine. I stared off out the window, lost in my own thoughts and problems. I didn't have much in the way of room to take his on too.

Part of me though, wanted to feel bad for Adam. Even if I didn't like him. Yet, he still had it easier than I ever did simply because his father was a Crane. Shitty customer service job or not, he still had money, and at the end of the day, he had a warm house he could go home to. He no longer had to worry about where his next meal was coming from.

Adam drove us into Beverly Hills. It shouldn’t have surprised me in the least that someone like Malcolm and his family would live there – and yet, on some levels, it did. Maybe, because I'd forgotten exactly how wealthy he was. When we were together, it was easy to think of him as just a person, and not a billionaire. He was usually just so down to earth and easy going. He didn't seem like the usual uptight rich assholes I had to deal with when I worked at Obelisk.

The car stopped outside a wrought iron gate, and Adam entered a passcode into the security keypad beside the driveway. The gates opened, and he guided the car down a long driveway that led to a stunningly gorgeous mansion. It was enormous and looked like something one of the Real Housewives would live in. “Ready to meet the infamous Crane family?” Adam said, his voice as dry as sandpaper.

He sounded about as excited as I did to finally meet Malcolm's family. Maybe under different circumstances I'd be excited, but Malcolm wasn't expecting me, and I wasn't sure how well this would go over with him. After all, he'd never mentioned introducing me to his family before.

There was probably a reason for that, I thought to myself

I knew I wasn't the sort of girl he usually dated. Iwas from the wrong side of the tracks, as the old saying went. He'd be dating down to be with somebody like me. Dating well below his station, or some snooty shit like that.

But what were they going to think and say when they found out he was going to have a child with somebody so beneath his station?

“Do we have our story straight?” I asked Adam, peering over at him as we sat in the car, staring at the ridiculously large mansion before us.

“You're my date for the night,” he said. “Simple enough. They're used to me bringing random girls over. Don't expect Cynthia to be pleasant though. She hates my guts. It's not personal.”

“Cynthia is –?”

“Malcolm's mother, sorry.”

“Oh,” I said.

My pulse was going crazy and I felt a headache coming on. I briefly considered telling Adam that I'd made a mistake with all of this and would just take a cab home. I knew that if I stepped through those doors, Malcolm might be furious with me. He might decide it was too much drama for him to deal with and send me packing.

But dammit, I was pregnant with his child and he couldn't simply ignore me. That's not who I was, and that's not who I was going to let him be. This was an issue we needed to deal with head on. Since he wasn't returning my calls, I decided that the best option was to bring the issue to him.

“Alright,” Adam said, taking a deep breath of his own. “Let's do this.”

He opened the car door for me, and this time, I wasn't even mad. I was too lost in thought and trying to keep myself from being freaked out to notice or really care all that much. My legs were weak, but he took hold of my arm and helped me walk up the stairs and onto a porch studded with ornate Greek columns. Lights shone from inside the house, the windows glowing a bright orange against the darkness and the evening moonlight.

I stared at the ornate wood door, the name ‘Crane’ carved into it with birds intricately carved alongside it. “I guess it's now or never, right?” I said. “Time to put up or shut up.”

“You'll be okay. You'll do just fine, Casey,” Adam said, opening up the door so we could head inside.

Yeah, just fine. If I could keep myself from throwing up all over the fancy, expensive oriental rug in the foyer, that would be a great start. Adam seemed as cool and confident as ever, any sign of his former self – the poor, neglected child whose father had forgotten about him – was gone. In his place was the arrogant and cocky little shit I took him to be from the moment we met.

The first person we ran into when we stepped into the foyer was an older Hispanic woman. She looked from Adam to me, and then she smiled brightly. Her smile was warm and genuine, and I got a good feeling about her. In some ways, she reminded me a lot of my own abuela.

“Casey, this is Alba,” she said.

“Un placer concrete, Alba,” I said.

The woman looked at Adam, then back at me, a look of mile surprise in her eyes, but the smile growing wider on her face.

“Gracias, mi nina.” Alba said, taking my hands in hers. “I like her already, Adam.”

Well, at least I had one ally in the house. By the looks of things, she was probably their housekeeper. How cliche could you get, really?

Adam laughed. “I have no idea what you've just said to one another, but okay.”

“I just told her it was nice to meet her, and she thanked me,” I said, rolling my eyes. “Did you never take Spanish back in school?”

r /> “I don't recall,” he said. “But, I'll consider that my Spanish lesson for today. I'll be hablo'ing real good in no time flat.”