“You’re going to resist, right?” Tabitha bites her lip. “You won’t take him back?”
“No.” I have no intention of letting Scott in ever again. “But he won’t stop. You know he won’t just take no for an answer.”
“Gross,” Charlie says again and drains her beer. The rest of us finish our drinks too, and when the waitress comes by, we all order another with our food.
“Can we help?” Tabitha asks once the waitress is gone. “Maybe we can talk to him.”
“No, don't do that. Knowing Scott, it’ll make things worse. He’s just used to getting what he wants.”
“You can’t trust these real estate developer types,” Charlie says around a mouthful of tortilla chips. “So pushy. They make deals all day and then come home and think that’s the only way to relate to another person.”
Tabitha agrees, and she and Charlie launch into one of the Taoseños’ favorite topics: the evil real estate developer.
“I’m sorry, Sadie,” Adele says quietly to me.
“It’s okay. Let’s talk about something else. I don't want my crappy relationship stuff to ruin our night out.”
Adele squeezes my hand but doesn’t say anything
Fortunately, I’m saved by the roar of motorcycles across the plaza. Four big bikes manned by giant bikers roll up to the plaza and stop in an alleyway next to the pedestrian only area.
“Oh jeez,” Tabitha groans. “More Easy Rider fans recreating their journey through the Southwest.” Ever since the iconic sixties film, bikers have made Taos part of their pilgrimage. That’s in addition to the huge annual biker rally up in Red River over Memorial Day that brings over 20,000 bikers to the area.
Something about these guys is different, though. They don’t look like Easy Rider hippie types. Nor do they have the long beards or hair that goes with some biker gangs. These guys are huge and fit. Broad shoulders and barrel chests. Thick, muscled thighs.
Oh God, am I looking at their thighs?
We fall silent as they dismount and file past the restaurant window. They are covered in leather and tattoos, like you’d expect, and all of them wear aviator shades.
“Damn,” Tabitha murmurs, slouching lower in her chair.
“Yikes. I’ll bet if you brush up against one of those guys, you’ll get testosterone poisoning,” Charlie sniffs. The four bikers pause right in front of the restaurant patio. They stand in a badass cluster, talking.
One of them isn’t wearing a leather jacket, just a black leather vest that leaves his arms bare. When he pulls off his aviator shades, his biceps bulge, practically as big as a basketball. The tattoo on his arm—a black wolf under a full moon—ripples, and the muscles in my lower belly clench, hard.
The biker who just removed his sunglasses swivels his head slowly in our direction. He’s got dark hair buzzed into a crew cut, leaving nothing to mar the masculine lines of his face. Wowza. His coffee-dark eyes flash weirdly in the dusky light. A jolt runs through my limbs. He’s looking straight at me.
My hand, of its own volition, rises into the air.
“Sadie!” Tabitha whisper-shouts. “What are you doing?”
I honestly don’t know. I can’t seem to look away from the guy, who is about as much my type as the lamppost behind him. Still, I give a little wave. The biker jerks up his chin in salute. A shock of electricity runs through me, tip to toe, like I've been struck by a mini bolt of lightning. The man’s perfect lips twitch into the hint of a smirk, and he turns back to his buddies.
The biker guys finish their conversation and stride away. Their heavy boots make no sound on the stones, but the air of the square seems to crackle. The dark haired biker looks back, right at me, and winks. Another zap, and my heart trips over itself.
“Wait… did that guy just wink at you?” Adele exclaims.
I laugh. “Yes, I believe he did.”
“Oh sweet baby Jesus,” Tabitha groans.
“Those guys are scary,” Charlie jerks her thumb over her shoulder.
“I don’t know,” I muse. “I thought he was kinda hot.” Scott was tall and handsome, and prided himself on his gym made muscles. But stand Scott next to that dark haired biker, and my ex would look like a bobble head toy.
My friends’ mouths drop at my admission, and then we all dissolve into girlish laughter.
I look out the window to see where they went.
“Who are those motorcycle guys?” Tabitha asks the waitress when she comes with our food.
The woman shrugs. “I see them around here from time to time. Sometimes on their bikes, sometimes in one of those army looking trucks.”
“Seriously? A Humvee?” Charlie’s eyebrows climb. She knows cars.
“Is a Humvee like a Hummer?” Tabitha asks.
“No, it’s a military vehicle,” Charlie answers. “Not all of them are road legal. Are those guys former military?”
“I don't ask, honey,” the waitress says. “I keep my mouth shut and look my fill.”