Shane (Mallick Brothers 1)

Everything would be alright.

It had to be.

Because there was no other option for me.THREELeaI hemmed and hawed my outfit for an obnoxious amount of time. He said not to wear my work-type clothes. Of which I had very few to begin with and had only bought for the purpose of interviews. My style generally ran toward the blue jeans, tee or tank, boot kind of thing. But I figured faded jeans and an old Rolling Stones tee wouldn’t be appropriate judging by Fiona’s wardrobe so I grabbed at the couple of dresses I kept for such occasions and spent an hour trying them all on with various jewelry and hair styles, the kind of primping I generally hated.

I wasn’t one of those chicks.

Eventually, I chose a simple black tank top dress with a square-cut bodice and a hem that went just a tad bit longer than mid-thigh. And while I was tall and generally stuck to flats, Shane was a wall of a man and I could pull off the five inch scrappy heels I had never even taken out of the box and still not tower over him.

Finished, I mussed my hair, lined my eyes, put on a hint of lipgloss, and headed out the door.

I was more nervous than I thought I would be even though I had taken the time the day before when I saw Fee to let her in on my plan. She had, thankfully, thought it was freaking hilarious and declared that she had my back in creating a lie that Helen, Shane’s mother, would believe about me and her son.

The nerves, I realized as I drove my car back toward For A Good Time, Call… Inc., were less to do with telling a good lie and earning my two-fifty, and a lot more to do with the man who would be paying it to me. Why? Yeah, that was a good question.

I had just opened my car door and moved my legs out when I heard the rumble of a bike pull up behind me. With a small thrill in my belly that I was choosing to ignore, I got fully out and stood, facing him as he took off his helmet.

The engine quieted and his head tilted as he did a slow inspection, top to bottom, that made every inch start to tingle. He let out a small whistle that somehow managed to warm me as he reached behind himself for a God-awful hot pink open-face helmet.

“Um, hell no,” I said as he held it out for me to take. With that, I walked around to the trunk of my clunker, unlocked it, and popped it open.

“What’s wrong with it? It’s pink.”

“Therein lies the basis of my objection to it,” I said, rolling my eyes as I reached into he depths of my trunk to find my own helmet. I turned with it, a matte black full-face helmet with genuine street graffiti on the sides. “It’s meant for a crotch rocket, not your Harley, but I’m not wearing that hideous fucking helmet. I don’t care that you’re paying me.” With that, I slammed my trunk and made my way over toward the side of his bike. He reached for my keys, slipping them into his pocket and watching as I pushed the helmet over my head.

“A crotch rocket, huh?”

“Yeah, you know… a street bike…”

“Baby, I know what a fucking crotch rocket is. I’m just surprised you do is all.”

“Right, because I’m such a shrinking fucking violet,” I said with a smile as I slid down the wind guard and cut off the invitation or anymore conversation.

I moved back a foot, putting my hand on his shoulder so I didn’t topple over in my heels, and swung a leg over, suddenly painfully aware that a skirt was maybe not the best option that night. But it was too late to change as I slid into the seat and felt the insides of my thighs brush against Shane’s slacks.

“If you know about crotch rockets, helmets, and Harleys, you know you’re going to want to hold on,” he said as he started the engine.

I took a slow breath, willing my lady bits to not get any wild ideas, reminding them of their unruly state, and pressed my upper body against his back, my arms folding across his stomach that, of course, felt strong and cut underneath his black dress shirt.

I said a silent ‘thank you’ to the universe for choosing the black dress after all seeing as Helen Mallick’s Sunday dinner demanded her sons get dressed up.

We took off and my belly had an immediate pitch that made me aware of how much I missed my bike, along with most everything I owned, and everyone I loved, I would never see again.

We drove for fifteen minutes, going into the ‘burbs then the slightly more upscale part of the ‘burbs where we pulled up and idled in the driveway of a large two story sand-colored stucco building with perfect landscaping over a large plot of land. It hadn’t exactly escaped me that all the cars in the driveway were of the expensive variety either.