It’s been years since I’ve driven a motorcycle, and driving through the city is a little daunting at first, but once I leave the booming metropolis behind, and am looking down a wide open road, I feel every little bit of anxiety and tension fall away, onto the tarmac behind me.

I drive for hours without stopping, reveling in the feel of the wind against my skin and the sudden freedom from my responsibilities.   My stomach’s growling and my ass is sore when I finally roll through a small town on the Alberta/Saskatchewan border.  Finding a quaint little diner, I pull in and find a parking spot, before carefully sliding off the motorcycle.

My ass and inner thighs ache more than I thought they would, but walking around a little helps to work out the worst of it and get the circulation moving again.  As I approach the building, I notice a long lineup of Harleys standing side by side off to the edge of the parking lot, but I don’t do much more than give them a brief glance.

Stepping inside, I head straight for the facilities to freshen up and use the washroom, and then find myself a booth in the back corner.  The décor of the diner itself is old fashioned. It’s almost like travelling back in time to the seventies, but it’s clean and the food smells delicious; making my mouth water as I give the waitress my order.

Off to my right, there are three tables pushed together, surrounded by a group of about twelve bikers, all wearing leather vests with patches on the back, labelling them as members of the Kings of Korruption MC, Ottawa Chapter.  Nostalgia makes my belly flutter when I realize that these men are from just outside of my own home town, which just so happens to be where I’m heading.

I pay no attention to them until one calls out, “Hey, Sugar, that Springer out there your ride?”

I look over and see that every one of the burly, tattooed men at the table are staring at me, waiting for an answer, and I instantly feel self-conscious.  I’m not a beauty queen by any means, and though I think I look pretty good in these jeans, my extra weight probably isn’t the most attractive thing they’ve ever seen.  Besides, it wouldn’t be the smartest thing to do to let this group of bikers know that I’m travelling alone.  That being said, the black motorcycle helmet sitting on the seat beside me, and the fact that they’re sitting right by the window—likely watching me park—probably gave me away.

I nod and try to act casual.  “It is.”

The largest of the group grins widely, revealing several missing teeth.  “That’s a lot of bike for a little lady like you,” he drawls, bringing about a hearty laugh from the others.

I frown back at him, my stomach tightening.  I know deep down that he’s teasing me, but I can’t help but feel the urge to run.  I don’t like the attention they are giving, but I also don’t want them to know I’m afraid.  Clearing my throat, I make a show of rolling my eyes and shaking my head.  “I think I can handle it.”

“I bet you can,” he shoots back.  “You think you could handle—”

“Shady!” a voice barks, tearing my attention away from the greasy looking biker.  “Jesus, man.  You don’t know when the hell to shut up, do you?”  I gape at my saviour as he slaps Shady across the back of the head, a little harder than necessary.  “Let the lady eat her damn supper in peace, asshole.  Nobody here wants to ride anything you have to offer anyway.”

The other men chuckle as Shady scowls and rubs the back of his head, and I have to bite my lip to hold in my own laughter. But I can’t hold back the smile on my face.  My savior’s gaze swings to meet mine and I freeze.  I don’t know how I hadn’t noticed him before.

He’s sitting, but I can tell that he’s tall.  His dark hair is long and pulled back into a neat ponytail at the nape of his neck, his face partially hidden behind his thick beard.  Tattoos cover his arms, and his eyebrow piercing only draws attention to the aqua blue eyes currently etching themselves into my memory.  My heart stutters as I watch a slow smile spread across his face.

“Sorry about him, darlin’.  He’s not house broken yet.”

My mouth opens with a reply, but my brain has lost all ability to articulate.  I give him a shy smile just as the waitress comes with my food.  I turn around, my cheeks flaming, and cram a French fry into my mouth.  I can’t remember the last time I’d been speechless when talking to a man.  I don’t know that it’s ever happened to me before.

Chairs scrape across the floor and heavy boots approach as the table full of bikers get ready to leave.  Each of them nods or waves as they pass, and I do my best to keep the smile on my face.  The last to walk by is my saviour, who stops and takes a seat in the booth across from me.

“Sorry again about Shady, darlin’.  He really is harmless.”

I shrug, my eyes wide as I continue to chew furiously on the mouthful of burger I’d taken before he approached, trying to empty my mouth so I can respond.

“The name’s Hulk.  We’re just passing through on our way home.  What’s your name?”

I swallow down my burger and take a quick sip of my soda, buying time before I answer.  Is it wise to tell this guy my name?  Taking a deep breath, I will my vocal chords to do their job and answer.  “Holly.”

I watch in awe as his slow smile lights up his whole face.  “Pretty name for a pretty lady.  Where you headed, Holly?”  

I stare at him for a beat, my mind racing.  “I don’t think it’s wise to tell my comings and goings to a complete stranger.”

He chuckles.  “Smart lady.”  Throwing a receipt on the table, he stands.  “Well, I paid your bill when I paid my own.  You have a nice day, Holly.”

I gape after him as he turns and saunters out of the diner, my head spinning.  What the hell had just happened?