Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 125531 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 628(@200wpm)___ 502(@250wpm)___ 418(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 125531 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 628(@200wpm)___ 502(@250wpm)___ 418(@300wpm)
He had a feeling he knew what it was but didn’t know why. And, fuck him, he couldn’t ask her with Fallon standing right there in her office.
“Okay… well… Is there a rental car company around here?”
Reilly answered her before Whip could. “Closest one that I know of is in Williamsport and that’s an hour away on a good day.”
“Do they deliver?” Fallon asked, pulling her cell phone out of her travel bag that had been on the floor and propped against her seat. “Do you know the name of it?”
Reilly quickly said, “We have a Honda we lend out to our customers at no charge. Unfortunately, another customer has it right now, buuuuuuut he’s supposed to return it tomorrow when his truck is done. Will that work? That means you’ll only go one night without wheels and you’ll have something to drive this weekend if you want to explore.” She grinned.
Whip rolled his eyes.
“What do I do in the meantime?”
“Whip will give you a ride wherever you need to go,” Reilly suggested and quickly added, “since the motel is on the west side of town and there aren’t too many businesses down there.”
“What you’re saying is, it would be better to stay at the hotel in the center of town,” Fallon concluded like anyone with a lick of sense would.
But Reilly was good. So fucking good. “Let me just look up their number and give them a quick call to see if they have anything available. It’s a pretty busy weekend around here.”
It was?
She continued, “They get booked up quickly and The Grove Inn usually gets the overflow.” Reilly went through the motions of calling the hotel. She was barely on the phone for two minutes before she hung up and announced, “No, they’re booked solid through the weekend.”
She shot Whip a look that clearly said not to question her.
Oh yeah, she was up to something all right. He wasn’t sure if he should like it or if it should pucker his asshole.
With Rev’s ol’ lady it could go either way.
“Whip can drop you off at the motel and then pick you up tomorrow to grab the Honda once it’s returned. Will that work?”
“Do I have a choice?” Fallon asked, sounding resigned.
“Got plenty of choices,” Whip mumbled.
Fallon shook her head, her blonde chin-length hair sweeping against her sharp jawline. “Not if there isn’t a rental car place close by and the hotel is booked.” She turned to Lee. “How do you know the motel isn’t booked?”
“I’ll give them a call right now,” Reilly said, already with the office phone to her ear and her fingers speed-dialing.
“You got your main bag but do you need anythin’ out of your saddlebags?” Whip asked while Reilly talked to whoever answered the phone at The Grove Inn.
Fallon sighed softly. “No. This should be okay for now.”
“You got those saddlebags locked up?”
Her lips pulled down at the ends. “Yes. Why? Do I need to worry about that around here?”
“No, gonna keep it parked inside at night, but will have to push it back out during the day to make room.”
“I appreciate that.”
Reilly hung up the phone. “All set. You have a room for the next week. I made sure you got a quiet room on the very end.”
“Thank you.”
“Not a problem. I’m glad to help.” Reilly was staring at Whip when she said that. She added an exaggerated wink on the end while Fallon was busy reaching down to grab her bag.
Son of a bitch.
Chapter Five
“This one’s yours, then?”
“Yep,” he answered as he strapped her Cordura travel bag onto the back of his ’84 Disc Glide.
“It looks like a classic.”
“It’s older than me.”
A soft laugh slipped from her. “Then I guess that makes it a classic.”
It might be older but he was proud of it. When he became a prospect a few years ago, he had dug out his uncle’s Harley from his aunt’s shed. It had needed work but now was a beautiful piece. A classic, just like Fallon said.
He appreciated the fact that she appreciated bikes. Not all women did.
His ride might not be as badass as her Indian Scout, but he couldn’t afford a brand new sled and he knew what he had, while not perfect, was rare. Only a limited number of Disc Glides were made that year.
Even with all the work he had to put into it getting it back in running condition after his uncle had abandoned it and disappeared, it hadn’t put him in the hole. He had no monthly payments like he would on something new or even a sled only a few years old.
The way things were right now, especially with him living practically rent-free in the bunkhouse, he had zero debt and planned to keep it that way.
When the Dirty Angels came up to Manning Grove for Trip and Stella’s wedding, he’d talked to Jag Jamison about getting his Harley customized. Once Jag mentioned some numbers, Whip figured the cost wouldn’t be worth it. At least, not now.