Shades (Reckless Souls MC 3)

Chapter Thirteen

Letty

“Is this young man a special friend, Loretta?” I try not to cringe at the emphasis she places on the word special.

“He’s a friend, Mother.” I try to keep the annoyance out of my voice because she’s my mother. Of course, she’s curious about the first man I invite home for dinner.

“Of course, but is he special?”

“I think so, but maybe not for the reasons you think.” I turn to her and hold my breath in anticipation of her critique of my outfit. When no comment comes, I don’t know how to react.

“He’s a nice guy. Served in the military, the Marines, and he’s helping Pastor Braden with some church stuff.”

“Church stuff? What kind of stuff?”

I nod and tell her about the bikers hanging around in the name of safety.

“I’ve gotten to know him a little, and I thought dinner was a good way to learn more about him and what he does.”

Hopefully, I’ll learn something that’ll pour ice water on this intense attraction that’s impossible to deny.

“All right.” She nods, and her eyes rake over my appearance several times. “You look nice, Loretta.”

“Thank you, Mother.” My shoulders relax in relief.

“That blouse makes you look a bit bosomy, though.”

Almost. “That’s because I am bosomy, and those minimizer bras are uncomfortable. If I have to be uncomfortable either way, I would rather look good.”

Her lips twitch. “Well, you and your bosoms look nice. I can’t wait to meet your friend.”

I roll my eyes at her smile. It’s nice to have a moment with her because they come so infrequently. Maybe she won’t be such a bitch to Shades. Although we all know she treats strangers better than her own daughter.

I listen for her footsteps descending the stairs before I give myself one final look in the mirror. She’s right. I do look very bosomy in this blouse, but in a good way. It hugs my waist so I actually have curves, which is why my boobs look so large. I have on a pair of skorts that look like a skirt, just in case I’m brave enough for that after-dinner bike ride I agreed to.

The doorbell rings, and I rush downstairs a little too fast because I’m breathless when I open the door.

“Shades. Hi. I mean, hey.” My effort to sound cool is as terrible at twenty-three as it was when I was sixteen. And eighteen.

His lip tugs into a sultry, lopsided grin. “Hey, Letty. Looking gorgeous.” He winks. “Love the top.”

Heat suffuses my face, and he laughs. “Thank you.” I take a step back and let out a low, almost silent breath. “Come in.”

He’s not wearing his usual leather vest. Instead, he has on a long-sleeved, zippered jacket, and I’m left wondering if that means something. Is he trying to make a good impression tonight, and if so, why?

“What’s in the bag?”

He looks down at the bag and back up at me with a teasing grin, his eyes dancing with good humor.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

I shrug. “It’s hooch, the preferred drink of bikers. I read that on Google.”

His deep laughter echoes in the front hall. “Wow, Google, huh?”

He hands me the decorative bag with a smile. “It’s homemade hooch.”

I look in the bag and laugh. “Pants on fire, Shades.”