Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 89259 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 446(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 298(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89259 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 446(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 298(@300wpm)
Naturally, being the woman that I am, I assumed that whatever joke that was passed was on my behalf. My suspicions were confirmed when our eyes met and she gave me a wink. Some would probably consider it just a friendly gesture, but I knew that face. It was the same one I had used when I knew I had one up on someone. She was letting me know that she was stepping on my territory and was enjoying every minute of it.
“Hey!” Red said, eyeing me warily. “Stop it.”
“Stop what?” I asked, confused at her demand.
“You are looking for a reason to be jealous. That’s his sister.” My whole body seemed to sag with relief. His sister, it was his fucking sister and I was two seconds from making a scene.
“Oh,” was all I could manage to say. I had presumed that Luke was an only child. Now looking at the two, I don’t know why I had not seen it before. They did favor each other.
“Well not technically,” Red said from beside me. My head turned in her direction and I managed to pull my eyes away from the siblings to stare at her.
“What? So they are not brother and sister?” I asked completely confused. Just how many beers had Red drank since she had been here?
“Ok, that’s Creek’s Ol’ Lady. Creek is Luke’s riding brother so that makes BeBe Luke’s sister,” Red said, looking like she was trying to choose her words carefully so she didn’t get them confused.
“Dammit Red, just say what the hell you mean. I don’t know motorcycle slang. Is that his fucking sister or not?” I said a bit too harshly.
“Hey, chill out man. It’s been a while since I have had a conversation with someone outside this life.” I just stared at her expectantly. I could tell that the drinks had obviously caught up with her. She seemed somewhat spaced out. “They are not blood kin if that’s what you are asking,” she said smiling, obviously enjoying my aggravation.
“Fuck it,” I said, grabbing my beer. “I’m going outside.” I went to stand up when someone touched my shoulder.
“Dallas?” said a voice from beside me. I turned to see my very first love staring back at me.
“Sam?” Sam Ervin. The All-American quarterback turned surfer boy was smiling at me. His big green eyes were creased at the corners from his full megawatt smile. I had loved Sam since the tenth grade, although the feeling was never mutual. Partly because he never knew I had a crush on him. When I moved to Collins from Atlanta, he was the first person to speak to me in class. Through our junior and senior year of high school, I managed to keep the secret hidden. My fear of rejection was greater than the opportunity of truth. Looking at him now, I felt nothing. I had stopped feeling for him a long time ago, but it sure was nice to see a familiar face, and his was a nice one to look at.
“What are you doing here?” he asked me. Letting his eyes travel over my body. I had matured a lot since the twelfth grade, and he was taking notice. Sam had matured a lot also. His blonde curly hair was still wild and untamed, but his skin was sun kissed, and his shirt bulged from his muscles. I noticed we seemed to be the only two in the building who looked as if they didn’t belong.
“Maybe I should ask you the same question,” I responded.
“My little brother is playing in the band. Skill-Saw is what they are calling themselves. I guess joints like this are there only takers,” he said laughing. His laugh was contagious as I joined in with him. I happened to look across the bar and saw Luke glaring at me. His face was that of stone, but his eyes were full of fire. He shook his head from side to side as if telling me “no” about something. I quickly averted my eyes, looking at anything but him.
“That your new boyfriend?” Sam asked, nodding his head towards Luke, but never taking his eyes off of me.
“No, just a friend,” I said, looking down at my beer. I tried focusing all my attention on removing the label from the bottle.
“Could have fooled me. The way he looks at you is the way a man looks at a woman who belongs to him,” Sam said. I looked up to see him staring at me intently.
“Well, I may be considered his property, but I most definitely do not belong to him,” I said defiantly.
“Ah, gotta love the biker world,” Sam said, taking a long pull from the bottle of water he was holding.
“And just what do you know about the biker world?” I asked. I knew that Sam had walked out on a full athletic scholarship to a four year university to move to Hawaii and become a surfer, but I had no idea he had any knowledge of this life.