Seriously? Straight teeth? That’s what she noticed?
Her heart didn’t even pitter let alone patter.
“Yup, you are definitely on speaker.”
“Well, I gotta go, you two. Chris is here to pick me up.”
“Think about what I said,” her uncle ordered.
“I will. Love you both. Bye!”
She hung up before Mark could provide any additional words of wisdom but had to admit her interest was piqued. It was summer. She didn’t have to work. She could use this time to reconnect with people she hadn’t seen in years. People she knew as a kid but were now strangers. Maybe it would be good for her to spend some time in the place where she’d made her biggest mistakes. Cathartic. She wasn’t a careless teen anymore. She was a respected member of society. Plus, she had a place to live. Work to keep her busy.
Hmm. Maybe Uncle Mark was on to something.
“Hey, sweetheart,” Chris said over the jangle of bells as he walked into the diner. He came straight to her and dropped a quick kiss on her upturned lips.
No zip.
No zing.
No wham.
No pow.
Not even a flicker of excitement or arousal.
Damn it. And damn Mark for making her face what she’d been ignoring since…well, basically since her first date with Christopher.
He was a dud. A nice man who had a stable job, good apartment, fine family, enjoyable friends. A good-on-paper man who just didn’t get her motor revving.
“Hi, honey,” she said, giving him what she hoped was a happy-to-see-you smile. “Let me grab my purse and I’m ready to go. You pick up something for dinner?”
His eyebrows drew down and a frown marred his face. “What’s with the outfit?”
As Toni slung her handbag over her shoulder she glanced at her clothes. “You’ve been here a week. This is how everyone dresses here. It’s a very casual town. No one puts on airs.” Her parents had, but that was a separate issue.
“Yeah, but that’s not how you dress. I’ve never seen you in anything that didn’t scream of preppy.” Chris winked. “It’s one of the reasons we fit so well.”
Huh. Is that how he saw her? It certainly wasn’t what she felt represented who she was. Wasn’t who she used to be. Ugh. This damn trip was making her delve way too deep into her psyche.
“It’s hot. You’re the one who looks out of place here.” She grabbed his hand and tugged him toward the door. “Come on. I’m hungry.”
When they reached the exit, Chris held the door for her. Impeccable manners ran in his blood. Just as she was about to step into the warm evening, a sign in the window caught her attention. “Wait one sec.”
She peeled the sign down, leaving two sticky squares of tape behind.
We reserve the right to refuse service to anyone. No Bikers Allowed.
Under the text was a circled motorcycle with a line through it. Her whole life she’d hated that sign. There wasn’t a person in town who didn’t know some member of the Hell’s Handlers Motorcycle Club, and while they weren’t exactly on the up and up, they deserved to be able to eat where they chose.
Perhaps it was juvenile, and perhaps it was wrong to ignore the wishes of the recently deceased, but removing the sign made her feel lighter. Her final act of rebellion against two people who’d never understood or accepted her or so many others.
“Why are you taking that down?” Chris asked. “Are you going to allow those lowlifes to eat here?”
Toni smiled. “Yes. Yes, I am. It’s a breakfast joint. I lived next door to a biker and his family my whole childhood and nothing bad ever came of it. What’s the worst that could happen?”
Chris shot her a concerned look just as the roar of a motorcycle filled the quiet evening air. The setting sun glinted off a black and chrome beast of a bike as it slowed passing the diner. The rider turned his head and stared straight at the empty spot in the window. Between the helmet, riding glasses, and bandana over his face, she couldn’t make out a single one of his features, yet somehow, she knew he was smirking.
Chapter Two
“You wound me, Bill,” Zach said as he leaned against the man’s silver BMW. He folded his arms across his chest, making sure to keep the Louisville Slugger—who he’d named Louie—on full display.
From his spot on the ground, in the driveway of his isolated three-million-dollar mansion, Bill groaned. He was curled up in the fetal position after Louie had made contact with his rich-guy soft gut.
“Fuck you,” Bill coughed and groaned again.
With a chuckle, Zach bent forward until he was just a foot away from Bill’s grimacing face. He tapped the bat against Bill’s leg and couldn’t hold back a laugh when the man jumped like a skittish little girl. He was typically more about the intimidation than actually beating on people, but Bill had been a thorn in the club’s ass for months now.