Page 4 of Rain or Shine

Harloe wiggles away, holding the scraps of her dress in her hands. “You ruined it.”

“I asked if it was sentimental.” I shrug, tucking the knife back into its sheath. “Besides, it’s safer this way. You want lace catching on the back tire, making us crash?”

“I still haven’t agreed to get on the back of your bike.”

“You’re getting on the back of my bike.”

She scowls, a cute little wrinkle forming between her eyebrows, not looking nearly as threatening as she probably hopes. She’s the type of girl who wears her heart on her sleeve and her feelings on her face. But not in a way that screams vulnerability. She’s fiery, and absolutely unapologetic about it.

A pretty, feisty little thing.

Harloe stands with her dress in pieces on the road; her whiskey-brown hair floats with the breeze. She’s a mess, but stunning. Her smooth, tan legs are on display, and the tight bodice of her dress accentuates her curves. Harloe is a full foot shorter than me, but her periwinkle eyes bring me to my knees. A shade of blue that is nearly purple when she glances away.

Devastatingly beautiful.

“We can do this one of two ways, cowgirl.” I smirk when she scowls at the nickname, fully prepared to throw her over my shoulder if she doesn’t agree to climb on the back of my bike willingly.

There’s no way in hell I’m leaving her alone in the middle of nowhere. Especially now that I know she’s Will’s sister, and he’s been helping the club acclimate.

The Twisted Kings moved into Lanceleaf Valley about a year ago. Steel, the president of my club back in Vegas, struck a deal with another member to purchase a corner of his ranch, Ironside Ridge, and expand our operations in Texas. It won’t be its own chapter, since Steel will continue to oversee it from Vegas, but a group of bikers will run the clubhouse, with me taking the lead for the time being.

With the trouble the guys here have been facing with the locals, Steel needed someone he could trust to get shit up and running. Which is why I’m in Texas.

Eventually, we hope to use Ironside Ridge as a safe haven for nomads. A place where other chapters can take a break when moving from coast to coast. The Twisted Kings don’t currently have a foothold in Texas, so Ironside Ridge will be the perfect go-between for our Santa Fe and New Orleans clubs.

That is, if we can cut past the red tape and finally get the clubhouse built and functional.

Harloe’s brother, Will, along with a few of his friends, have welcomed us. Either out of their loyalty to Dean or because they aren’t raging assholes in general. But the group of ranchers that make up the city council has been far more difficult. They want us out of Texas, and they’re doing everything in their power to make that happen.

That particular group is led by Zander Cross, the man Will said would be marrying his sister this afternoon. Yet here she is.

Defiant.

Difficult.

Looking at me like offering her a ride on my bike is offensive.

“Harloe—”

“Fine.” She brushes past me, walking toward my motorcycle with her chin held high. “I’ll go with you, but only because the sun is setting soon. Don’t get any ideas.”

I can’t help but chuckle because her hips sashaying give me all sorts of ideas, but there’s no way in hell I’m getting wrapped up in the Texas tornado that is Harloe Harrison. My club’s got enough trouble in this town as it is.

“Put this on.” I hand her my helmet when we reach my bike, and she stares at it like it’s a foreign object.

When she doesn’t move, I snag it from her hands and place it on her head. My fingers graze her neck as I buckle the strap, and she giggles, wiggling around and being as difficult as ever. The second the buckle clicks, she pulls back.

“What about you?” she says, tugging on the helmet but finding it snug. “Where’s your helmet?”

“On your head. I’ll be fine.” I swing my leg over my bike. “You see that pipe? That’s the exhaust. It’ll burn you, so stay clear.”

“I’ve been riding horses my whole life, Shane. How hard can this be?”

I swear this girl is going to be the death of me.

Holding out my hand, I keep my arm steady as Harloe uses it to climb onto the back of my bike. She’s careful to avoid the exhaust like I instructed. But when she tries to keep a gap between us, I grab her thighs and pull her flush against my back.

“Hold on tight, cowgirl.”