The Biker's Dirty Little Secret (Straight to Hell MC 2)

“A few online. No more walk-ins.”

“That guy give you any trouble?” Jeff asked. “He looked like trouble.”

“He’s just a chicken farmer. Relax.”

She didn’t want any more questions and didn’t like her mystery man being judged.

“A farmer covered in ink?”

She shrugged.

Honestly, Callie didn’t want to dig deeper. She just wanted to enjoy the moment. He’d asked her out on a date, so she was still on cloud nine.

She’d been so focused on working and surviving that she had little time to worry about herself, her love life, or her future.

So many thoughts crowded her head. What would happen when he dropped her off? She didn’t want him to see the shithole where she lived. Or what if he wasn’t what he seemed to be at all and he ended up dumping her body in a ditch somewhere?

The minutes ticked on until only ten minutes remained until her shift ended.

Her heart raced. What if he didn’t even show up? What if he did?

Callie shut down her station and gathered up her belongings.

She used the staff bathroom to fix herself up. After pulling the elastic from her ponytail, she ran her fingers through her hair the best she could. When she looked beyond the glass, she still couldn’t see the white pick-up truck in the yard. Her heart sank. She didn’t realize how much she’d wanted this to work out.

Callie usually walked a mile to the town, then took the bus to her apartment at the far east end. One day, she’d have enough saved up for a little car, but until then, it was a tedious routine that wasn’t optional. And much worse in this heat.

She began her trek through the dusty yard, checking her watch again. Maybe she should wait a few more minutes in case he was just late. Her life was so full of disappointments that she doubted he’d show up. It had only been about five months since her grandmother passed away. That pain was still fresh. She’d raised Callie alone, giving her some semblance of normalcy in her childhood years. Her parents and cousins were all messed up on hard drugs, stealing and conning people to support their habit. Her grandmother tried to shield her from the worst of it, but they were mostly MIA, and she wasn’t so naïve.

Her mother showed up out of nowhere to claim her grandmother’s trailer after the funeral, effectively leaving Callie homeless for a couple of weeks until she got her current bachelor apartment. They hadn’t spoken since.

The roar of a motorcycle made her heart race. She always feared running into a biker on her lonely walk to town. She’d been lucky so far. Callie was well aware there were at least two big clubs in the vicinity. One of them was currently building a new clubhouse, and they came in for supplies frequently. She wasn’t allowed to handle those invoices, so she knew something wasn’t right about their orders but kept her mouth shut. It wasn’t her business.

When the bike slowed down behind her, she began to panic. Why hadn’t she invested in some pepper spray? She turned her head to her side when the bike crawled next to her.

It was him … her mystery man.

He cut the engine and swung his leg off the bike. “Canceling our date?”

She swallowed hard, alternatively glancing at him and then the bike. He looked so different than earlier. Well, he had clothes on for one—a fitted black t-shirt and blue jeans, his hair slightly damp. She wanted to run her fingers along the ink and muscles.

“I didn’t think you’d show.”

“You’ve got to give me a chance,” he said.

She noticed him less than discreetly looking her up and down. Was he grossed out? She was known for her curves, and often the brunt of jokes around the yard. It was something she was used to but hated nonetheless.

“You ride a motorcycle?”

“You’re not afraid to get on back, are you?”

“Oh, you want me to ride on that?”

Callie had never been on a motorcycle. The thought scared her, but she did like the idea of wrapping her arms around his waist.

“It’s not so bad. You may even like it.” He reached out and ran a section of her hair between his fingers. She was glad she let it down.

“I don’t even know your name,” she said.

“Brick.”

He used a nickname? She wasn’t going to complain. It did suit him.

Brick got back on the bike, started it up, then nodded behind him. She may be twenty-six, but she was still innocent when it came to men. This was all new to her.

She used the excuse to touch him, resting her hand on his shoulder as she straddled the bike. He was hard, and something stirred inside her from the simple touch.

“Hold on tight. These roads aren’t friendly.”

She slid her arms around him. Her pussy tingled, and it wasn’t just from the vibration of the engine. He hit the gas and they were off, the wind whipping through her hair. The breeze felt like heaven, and she closed her eyes, savoring all the new sensations.