Page 19 of Irresistibly Wicked

“Is she getting into trouble?” Zander asked.

“Not yet, but boys are texting her all the time,” Blaine grumbled. “I fucking hate it.”

“That’s why I’m hoping we have another boy,” Baz said. He and his fiancée, Emerson Lockhart, a single mother and a hell of a baker, were expecting another baby in late August.

“Remember when Ash and Mads were teenagers? Guys came out of the woodwork,” Gunner reminded them as Belleau ambled over and lay at his feet.

“You have no idea what they put us through when they were Lettie’s age,” Tank said.

“Bullshit,” Gunner argued. “We all had to keep an eye on them.”

“Yeah, well, Tank and I had to watch all of you to make sure you didn’t do anything stupid and keep an eye out for the horny little asshats who had their eyes on our sisters,” Blaine said.

“I never did stupid shit,” Zeke argued.

“Yeah, that was usually me and Zan,” Gunner teased.

“Zeke might not have gotten into trouble often, but he had his moments,” Blaine said. “When he was eleven or twelve, he snuck out, and I thought he was going to see a girl, so I followed him.”

“Couldn’t even get your own girls back then, huh?” Zander teased, and the guys laughed.

Blaine flicked him off. “He rode his bike nearly five miles to a beach and walked in the pitch-dark all the way down to where a dead whale had beached itself, and then he just sat there. I was watching him from the dunes, wondering what the hell he was doing, when three older kids showed up to steal a piece of whale bone, which is illegal. Doofus over here tried to stop them, so I had to kick their asses and haul his ass back home before Dad woke up.”

“A’right, Zeke. Keeping life interesting.” Zander high-fived Zeke as Preacher and Conroy headed up to their seats at the head of the table.

The din of conversations quieted. His father, the president of the club, and his uncle, the vice president, had earned that respect with thirty-plus years of helping the community and having the backs of every single member of the club and their families.

As they discussed club finances, old business, and prospects, Zander mentally replayed his conversation with Shauna, wishing he’d asked for her number. That was a strange thought for a guy who’d always done everything possible to keep from having attachments with women. He tried to stop thinking about her, but she stuck with him the same way her voice still played in his mind like an old favorite. Only now I know the gorgeous face, curvy body, and spunky attitude that go with that voice. But his thoughts weren’t about her looks. That felt secondary. This was something else. Something he couldn’t identify but was impossible to escape.

“We’re happy to share that we’ve had eight middle schools sign on for the anti-drug program,” Preacher announced, drawing Zander’s attention. “If you’re interested in volunteering, the forms are on our website.”

Zander had already signed up to take part in the program in the fall, like he did every year. Preacher went over a few more items before handing the floor over to Conroy.

“Thanks, Preach,” Conroy said. With wavy silver hair that brushed his collar, warm blue eyes, and a laid-back personality, women always said he seemed more like a movie star than the badass biker he was known to be. “The annual Bikes on the Beach event is taking place the second week of August. The club will have a table, and if you’d like to help run it, sign up online…”

Bikes on the Beach was always a wild time, drawing bikers, and women, from near and far. As Conroy talked about the suicide prevention ride and rally in the fall and other upcoming events, Zander’s mind made a beeline back to Shauna.

When the meeting finally ended, Zander was still thinking about getting Shauna’s phone number and trying to make sense of how badly he wanted it. She was beautiful, but she wasn’t his usual type. He’d always gone for party girls with smoky eyes who tried to lure him in with fluttering lashes and sexual innuendos. Women who knew the score and were cool with having a good time, knowing full well he’d walk away after and probably forget their names. Shauna hadn’t even tried to flirt with him. If anything, she’d called him on his shit.

And he freaking loved it.

He stuck around to talk with the guys for a while, then headed straight to the firehouse to get that number.

THE BAY DOORS were closed, so he went to the front door, but it was locked. Many fire stations on the Cape didn’t have enough funding for staff to cover them when they were out on calls. Instead, they had emergency phones by the door with a direct line to dispatch.

He eyed the phone, thinking about trying to charm a dispatcher into giving him Shauna’s number. But even the boundary pusher he’d been before the accident had too much respect for first responders to dick around with them like that. He thought about waiting for her to return, but the guys teasing him about being a stalker was too damn fresh in his mind.

Fuck it.

He climbed back on his bike and headed to the Salty Hog to try to get her off his mind.

Chapter Eight

THERE MUST HAVE been dark forces at play last night, because they’d had so many calls at the firehouse, Shauna was bleary-eyed by the time she got home. She stood in her living room Thursday morning, trying to make sense of the empty tabletop where the television was supposed to be. She blinked several times, wondering if her exhaustion was messing with her. Nope. The television still wasn’t there. She looked around the living room and kitchen in case Brian had moved it. There were dirty dishes on the coffee table and the counter, but the television was nowhere in sight.

She glanced down the hall. Brian’s bedroom door was ajar, his music spilling out. “Brian?” she called out, wondering if he’d moved the TV into his room.

He didn’t respond.