SALEM

My hands shake in anticipation as I examine myself one last time. Satisfied with the outfit I chose, I skim myself from head to toe in my vanity’s mirror, nod my head in approval before dashing out to my living room.

Cole phoned me earlier, encouraging me to wear a pair of ankle-cuffed jeans, boots, a weighted jacket, and a tight top. “Nothing that’s flowy or can get tangled,” he stated.

One of the last presents my father gifted my mother before he passed was a fringed leather jacket. Mom loaned it to me once and it’s been in my closet ever since. She never asked for it back, so I never reminded her that I still had it. As far as I’m concerned, it’s a win for me. Her loss, my gain. It’s not like she’s banging down my door for all of the articles of clothing I’ve accumulated over the years since she pulled her disappearing act and hit the road.

“Don’t let the door hit you where the good Lord split you,” I rumble the same phrase I use anytime she comes to the forefront of my mind.

Just as I’m fixing to traverse down a road that should be less traveled, a rasping knock on my front door interrupts my downward spiral into la-la land and I let out a relieved breath full of many thanks.

“Coming!” I holler as I grab my wallet and stuff it down my front pocket. It’s a good thing clothing manufacturers make women’s jean pockets deep. Before my hand lands on the knob, I comb my fingers through my hair before smoothing the flyaway strands down.

Gathering my courage, I swing the door open and my breath hitches. My god this man is pure perfection. I can’t help but wonder if his parents were this spectacular. “Hi.”

“Hi yourself,” Cole responds. “Are you ready?”

“Yeah.” Reaching up, I pull my keyring off the nail I hammered into the wall and shut the door behind me.

“Here, let me, Salem.” Cole reaches out, steadying my hand that I hadn’t realized was trembling and places his over top before gently removing my keys. “This one?”

“No. It’s the square one that’s brass, not the silver one,” I direct.

My eyes zone in on his strong fingers as he rotates his way through the numerous keys I have before finding the right one.

“Why so many?” Cole inquires.

“One for my house of course. Another for my car, one for the studio, one for my post office box, one for my parents' house, and one for my next-door neighbor. I feed her cat whenever she leaves town on a business trip. Instead of leaving her key in the mailbox where anyone can get it, I just keep one on me. Outside of her family, I’m the only one she trusts to feed Cloudy and change out his litter box.” I rush, expanding my explanation so he doesn’t think anything fishy when it comes to me having Jamie’s house key.

“That’s awfully neighborly of you,” he says, his voice sincere and sugary sweet, but I can still sense a tinge of sadness embedded in there. “When I lived at home, our neighbors avoided us like the plague. We were the white trash of the neighborhood. We were blamed for the decrease in their home's estimated value.”

“They stayed away from you too?” I ask him.

“Like I was a contagious virus,” he clarifies. “I was a product of the two most hated people on our street, after all.”

“Some people are judgmental assholes,” I hiss, perturbed that a child had to suffer for the dislike of his parents.

It’s shamefully pathetic.

“Story of my life, sweetheart.” Cole shakes as if he’s trying to dismiss the thoughts in his head then shoots me a blinding smile. As we reach his motorcycle, he asks me, “Ever ride before?”

“Yes. My dad used to ride on the weekends, and he’d take me with him Sunday mornings,” I explain, enjoying the memories my answer conjured. “Saturday was his and Mom’s time. They lived the hippie lifestyle.” I chuckle as I think back to their wardrobe choices and how they’d freely smoke their weed regardless of if we were in the privacy of our home or out and about in the public.

They believed that they had the right to smoke, have sex, and walk around in the nude whenever the mood struck.

They acquired quite the fan club, rap sheet, and reputation around town.

People loved them.

Every time they were arrested, there was a protest from the peers in front of the jailhouse. And I was always there with them, picketing and hollering about the injustices with the masses.

It was awesome.

“That’s nice. I don’t have an extra helmet, so you’ll wear mine,” Cole solidifies.

Yeah, because I’m gonna give into that edict so easily.

Whatever.

He’s a fool if he thinks I’ll sit behind him with my noggin protected while he is exposed to potential injury.

“Cole, neither of us is riding without a helmet. Hang on a second.” Reaching out, I swipe my keys from his hand and walk to the side of my house and unlock my shed’s double doors. “I haven’t used mine in years, but it’s been kept in its holster so it should be dust free.”

Finding the black bag, I pull it down off the shelf and begin unzipping it. When the helmet my father had custom designed for me is exposed, a tear slips free and falls down my cheek.

“I miss him. Every day, something reminds me of him and makes his loss fresh all over again.”

“You had a good relationship with him. It’s good you have mementos like this to remind you of the good times, Salem. Don’t let the pain of his loss override those memories.” Cole reaches down and wipes my cheek with the pad of his thumb. “The penmanship on this is really good. It’s clean and well done.”

“My dad’s best friend paints antique cars as a hobby, he did this design for me,” I tell him.

The helmet is blended in matte gradient shades of black and gray. The scenery’s what’s breathtaking. On both sides are twig-like tree limbs with an owl sitting on top, watching over their surroundings. Underneath them is wildlife running amuck. On the back are wolves who are laying on their hind quarters watching over the smaller animals, protecting them instead of preying upon them. One wolf is the color of my dad’s hair and the other my mother’s. Their eyes are the exact hue as their irises and between them, is a pup who has the same shade of fur as her mother with her father’s eyes peering back at you. It feels as if my wolf counterpart is watching your every move. To me, I’ve always believed she’s watching over her parents as they watched those around them.

“Do you want to put the knapsack in my saddlebag to tuck it into when we get to our destination?”

“Is that my cue that we should get out of here and on the road?” My voice is twinkling with humor and my eyes are dancing with mischief.

It’s rare that I’m able to enjoy myself after thoughts of my dad resurface.

POWERHOUSE

When our fingers link and lock with each other’s, a spark shocks my hand and travels up my arm then throughout my body. I’ve never felt a gravitational pull to another as I do with her.

I knew the first time I set my eyes on her that there was something exceptional about her, but it still blows my mind.

I feel those walls I’d erected begin to crumble and tumble.

My heart is exposed to her—for her, opened wide. I just hope she protects it for the gift it is because I’m at a loss of how to safeguard it myself now that she’s barged into my life and ripped the control I had honed over it away from me.

It’s a mind fuck that with only a handful of encounters, she’s enchanted me the way she has.

Today, I decided not to overly question my uncharted feelings, to let things play out as they will, let nature navigate things and see where we land. Life is full of unknowns, I thought I was protected from falling down that hole, but it seems I’m not as immune as I believed I was to the relationship virus.

It’s amazing how a little slip of a woman can come in and annihilate my guarded restraint, but that’s exactly what she’s managed to do.

“Where are we going?” Salem asks as I help her with her strap.

Once I have it securely buckled underneath her chin, give it a shake to make sure it’s secure, I answer. “The ladies wrangled me into agreeing to bring you to the clubhouse for a barbeque, they’ve agreed to keep it low-key and not mention your birthday, but before that, I thought we’d take a ride and enjoy the weather. Sound good?”

“It sounds great, Cole! I love the women and men I’ve met. I always feel like there’s a live skit to entertain me with. The things that come out of Juniper and Oakley’s mouths make gloomy days shine.”

“All of the kids have a gift to make us smile regardless of what the day’s been like,” I confirm her words. “I’m glad you like them, they’re important to me.”

“They’re your family, of course they are, Cole. Family comes before anything.”

“Only a handful of people call me that,” I admit, loving the way my name sounds rolling off her tongue.

A pang of delight bounces around my chest, glad that she’ll understand that there may come a time that I’ll have to cancel a date to help one of my brothers out of a sticky situation.

“Should I call you Powerhouse in front of your family? I don’t want to screw anything up. I don’t understand the ins and outs of a biker's life and I want to fit in,” she submits, chewing on the side of her mouth.

“No, you can call me Cole, sweetheart. I like it, and I want you to keep doing it. Some of the ladies do, but some don’t. But if you call me Powerhouse, I’ll know I’m in deep shit,” I chuckle, imagining her hands fisted on her hips, her glare sent my way and my road name hissed.

It makes me hard as nails thinking about her sass showing. Why? I have no clue, it’s as confusing to me as she is.

“Ready?” Grabbing my helmet off the handlebars, I toss it over my skull and buckle the chin strap.

“Ready,” she answers, excited to hit the road echoing up and down the street.

“Well then, what are we waiting for?” I ask, mounting my bike then helping her get settled behind me.

As we ride with her tits pressed between my shoulder blades and her pussy pushed against my ass, all feels right in my world.

A first, but hopefully, not a last.

* * *

“I forgot how amazingly freeing the open road feels as it brushes your skin,” Salem says as we tuck our helmets on the seat of my Harley.

“That’s why I’m on my bike as much as I can be,” I admit. “The weather has to be severe to force me into my truck. I use it for the girls every week, but even then, I have the windows rolled down just to feel the wind on my face.”

“And the radio cranked up,” Salem laughs.

“And the radio cranked up,” I agree, joining her in laughter. “If I’m gonna be confined, I need to jam with some good tunes.”

“I love rock. Who’s your favorite?” she probes.

“It’s a toss-up between Mötley Crüe and Guns N’ Roses,” I confess. Most of my brethren prefer Metallica, but the pounding of heavy metal gives me a migraine, so I stick to the genres that I don’t have to fight in order to understand their lyrics.”

“For me, it’s Whitesnake and Bon Jovi,” Salem confesses.

“I like their music too,” I claim, just one more item to check off of the list bearing reasons this woman is my idyllic match.

“Cole, get your thumb out of your ass and come join the party!” Kruger, our VP bellows with his old lady, Stella, wrapped in his arms.

“Coming, Veep,” I yell back. “Ready to join the chaos?”

“I was born ready,” Salem snickers as I cart her through the dirt path where we stop at the cooler to grab each one of us a beer.

The women all but rip her from me and drag her away as I get bombarded with rapidly asked questions by the men.

I swear they live off of gossip and drama more than the females of our group do.

I’ll add a box of tampons for each one of their stockings.

My to-purchase Christmas list is ever-growing.