Making Her His

And he wanted to keep seeing her. That much she figured out. No ‘one and done’ for Mr. Anthony Parks. Considering how badly he fit into her life and her goals, it wasn’t a very good idea for her to see him again. Her father and grandfather would both have fits. Grandpa might even send a couple of the guys after him to adjust his attitude. That wouldn’t work out well at all.

When he texted, she would just ignore him.

As she pulled in to the parking lot of her apartment building she saw her sister’s red Mustang, her high school graduation gift. Chrissy had received a similarly expensive car, but sold it for college money. She bought a two-thousand-dollar beater to save cash. But spotting the sports car in their parking lot, she suddenly remembered that Gloria had ditched her last night, leaving Chrissy prey to Saks’ attentions. Had her sister shown up, she wouldn’t be in this predicament.

She blazed up the stairs that led to their second-floor apartment and threw open the door.

“Whoa!” said Gloria. “Who lit the fire under you? Or are you coming in guns drawn to hide your walk of shame?”

“Shame? Why did you ditch me last night?”

“Marcus had a couple hours free, so...”

“You dumped me for your boyfriend? And left me alone in that bar?” Now Chrissy had a real reason to feel indignation.

Gloria cast her eyes downward and then up again, with mischief in her eye. “Did you find him there?”

“How was I supposed to do that? You were supposed to get the intel on his identity.”

“Sorry; like I said...”

“Marcus wanted to screw you.”

“Hey!” protested Gloria, then grinned. “But, well—it’s Marcus.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard it all before. You can’t help yourself.”

“And what about you? You come home in the morning wearing last night’s clothes. Who was he? I bet he sizzled sex to get you to drop your panties!”

“Nobody you need to know anything about.”

“Aha! You did meet someone. But—”

“No buts. Papa or Grandpa find out about him and he’ll be toast.”

“Ooooh,” cooed Gloria, eyes wide. “He must be real inappropriate.”

“You’re the one being inappropriate.”

“Did you find him at the Red Bull?”

“That’s where you sent me, remember?”

But Gloria's mission was taunting her big sister, not self-recrimination. “What’d he look like?”

Chrissy huffed. “Tall, dark, and handsome. There. Does that satisfy you?”

Gloria stuck her tongue out at Chrissy, but clapped her hands. “Is he a biker?”

“It’s a biker bar, isn’t it?”

“Does he ride a Harley?”

“I don’t know. We didn’t ride his bike.”

Gloria’s face fell.

“To his apartment,” added Chrissy with a smirk.

“His crib!” Gloria went ballistic now, practically bouncing on her toes. “What was it like?”

“It was too dark to see. He, uh, wasn’t interested in showing me around. We just...” She grinned again. “We just went straight to his bed.”

Gloria’s eyes were as wide as saucers, which Chrissy found utterly ridiculous because she probably did more than that, and worse, with Marcus last night. “Was he big?”

“Stop.”

“He must have been huge. With meaty, hairy arms with tattoos all over. Was his head shaved?”

Chrissy started laughing now. “You’re ridiculous. That’s not my type at all.”

“You have a type of biker? I thought you got wet for boring men like your boss.”

“Shut up. It wasn't that way at all.” She was laughing despite herself. The image Gloria had of a biker was probably the same image she’d have said yesterday.

“How was it then?”

“Well, Saks—that’s his name—he saved me from nasty bikers in the parking lot. You should’ve seen it. There were five of them but he held them off.”

“Like, in actual fighting?” Gloria was mesmerized as Chrissy spoke.

“No. In attitude. He handed me his jacket and said, ‘Hold this, darlin’. I don’t want to get this idiot’s blood on my cut.’ And the other guy said, ‘Who says it’ll be my blood?’ Then Saks shrugged and said, ‘My blood, your blood. Doesn’t matter. I’m just keeping you here until the police arrive.’ And then the rude bikers rode off.

“You’re pulling my leg!” said Gloria.

“Actually, I’m not. I was heading to my car, ticked you had stood me up, when these rough biker dudes came creeping up on me. Saks stepped in and made sure I was okay.”

“Awww, he stood up for you.”

“I suppose,” said Chrissy. In telling the story, Chrissy realized how amazing Saks had acted. Five bikers, and all he did was stare them down and they fled. She shivered again at the thought. All her life she’d lived around macho, alpha males, but Saks commanded the scene without fuss or bother. It was hard not to find him attractive.

“Will you see him again?”