Page 2 of Snowfall
“I promise I will.”
Kristen turns to leave, and my stomach drops.
I watch her like a stalker from behind the front desk as she types away on her phone and then stands outside waiting for something. Or someone. A ride, I surmise.
Struck with a bout of beefy balls, I walk outside.
“Need a ride somewhere?” I offer.
Kristen turns towards me in the sunlight, and her entire face illuminates. It shimmers like a deity, and damn, do I ever want to worship.
“No, thank you. I have an Uber coming.” She continues to smile.
“It’s no trouble,” I push.Down boy. “If you don’t mind riding along with a greasy mechanic.” I lift my tatted hands. Years of stories are portrayed on my skin, up my arms, and along my torso.
Kristen measures me up. She’s definitely analyzing me. I mean, the general rule is not to accept rides from a stranger, but I’m really hoping she’ll make an exception. I just want to spend a little more time with her.
“It’ll save you money on Uber fare,” I toss in.
“Uber fare?” she laughs. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard it called that.”
“C’mon then.” I jerk my head, encouraging her. “I’ll see what else I can come up with to make you laugh.”
Her dark eyes shimmer with deliberation.C’mon, c’mon,I silently urge her.
“Okay,” she muses, continually sizing me up. “I can use some laughs.”
“Me, too.”Up goes the ante.
I steal glances of Kristen as we walk to the back of the building where my chopper is parked. Unfortunately for this ride, we’re going to have to take my pick-up. Not sure how’d she feel straddling my bike in a skirt that tight. Not that I’d mind watching the hem hike all way up to her ass.
I clear my throat, and my mind, from the racing thoughts. This woman is seriously affecting me.
I open the door for her and help her climb up into the front seat. She’s so proper and polite in all her mannerisms. She’s nothing like the women I’m used to dating. Well, fucking is more like it. I don’t think I’ve been on an actual date in years.
No one has been worth my time. No one, until now.
“Where to?” I turn the truck on and pop it into drive.
“Home, please. I’ll direct you.”
“I’m pretty familiar with the coastal highway. Just let me know when we’re getting close.”
Kristen nods. “I can do that.”
The Pacific Coast Highway is a gorgeous stretch of road with the most scenic views in the country, and Malibu is one of its destination gems. I’ve lost count how many times I’ve cruised the coastline on my Harley, breathing in the sea air, getting lost in hundreds of miles of pure freedom.
“So, Gambit?” Kristen’s tone is curious and playful.
“Yes,” I indulge her.
“Where did that nickname come from?”
“Picked it up as kid living in Vegas.”
“That’s where you’re from?”
“Born and raised, yeah. Grew up with a degenerate gambler for a father and a showgirl for a mother.”
