Page 8 of Well Aware

But I was also kind of excited about a new venture.

I’d never thought that I would be taking over as CEO of my father’s company, but who was I to not stick it to my sister.

I’d been drinking a celebratory beer in the parking lot of the post office with Black and Gentry, a couple of club brothers from the MC I was a member of, when she’d crashed in front of us.

I’d clocked her driving from a quarter of a mile away.

She was in a black Jeep Cherokee with the windows rolled down.

Her long, black hair had been flying every which way, swirling like a cyclone above her head.

But it’d been her small smile that’d caught my attention at first.

Her car tire had yanked free, and I’d watched it roll across the street into the tall grass before I’d looked back at her face.

She looked horrified.

It was the cutest thing I’d ever witnessed.

Then she’d turned and spotted us, witnessing the carnage, and she’d flushed the prettiest of pinks.

Then she’d stepped out of the car in her short blue jean shorts, white tank top, and matching Samba shoes, and I’d fallen into instant lust.

Her body was to die for.

Not super tall, but she had toned, tanned thighs. Athletic build. And the features that spoke of some Asian heritage. Her brown eyes were incredibly expressive.

But it was the scowl on her face as she glared at us as if we were the ones who ripped her tire off and flung it away that had me pushing off the seat of my bike and walking toward her.

Now, I was holding out my hand to help her onto the back of my bike, and the anticipation of having her arms wrapped around me was killing me.

She placed her soft hands into mine, and I watched as the muscles in her forearm played while she gripped my hand tightly to steady herself as she swung onto my bike.

“You ever ridden before?” I asked.

“Nope,” she agreed. “But you won’t go fast, right?”

“Not if you don’t want me to.”

She smiled. “I have too many responsibilities to die.”

“Maybe when you don’t have those responsibilities, I can take you fast,” I teased.

She scooted up slightly, and I said, “All the way up. Wrap your arms around me and don’t let go.”

I wasn’t going to be going fast enough for her to need to hold on tight, but I just wanted her close.

She smelled like cherry and vanilla cake.

It was an intoxicating combination, and it wrapped around my lungs like a vise.

I wondered if I buried my nose in her hair, would it be more potent?

Instead of finding out, I started the bike and gently guided us out of Court’s parking lot and to the main drag through town again. “Are you hungry for some really good deli sandwiches? Or something that’ll clog your arteries?”

She leaned forward so that I could hear her over the rumble of my bike combined with the wind and said, “I should probably go with the healthier option.”

I steered us toward The Mercantile and pulled into the closest spot to the door that I could find.