Page 26 of Diesel

Chapter Five

Diesel

Wind in my hair, engine between my legs, and an open road ahead. Life was real sweet. Especially since meeting Ollie. I grinned every time I thought of the male, which was most of the time.

Back at the clubhouse, the flyer Ollie had tucked into my pocket was already in a frame on my wall. The bingo card next to it. I wanted to cover every square inch in memories of the time we spent together.

Tonight was the paint and sip. I wasn’t sure what kind of drinks they would serve, which was why I’d tucked a flask of whiskey inside my cut.

Ollie’s house loomed up ahead. I throttled down, grinning when I spotted the sprite waiting for me on the porch. He had on a soft blue shirt and skinny jeans, looking good enough to lick.

“Ready?” I asked when I pulled into his driveway.

“I can’t believe I’m going to paint and drink…whatever. How cool is that? I feel so fancy now.” He stood expectantly, his hands clasped in front of him.

“Someone’s getting a little spoiled.” I unlatched the helmet strapped to the seat behind me. “You should be able to secure your helmet in your sleep by now.”

He beamed up at me, and I hated covering that playful smile.

“Maybe I like beefy hands doing it for me instead.” Ollie wiggled his brows.

“Like I said, spoiled.”

I held the bike steady as he climbed onto the back, kneeing my side.

“Shoot. Sorry. These jeans don’t leave much room for mobility. I forgot to do laundry.” His legs bracketed my hips, and then his arms slid in where they belonged.

“Never do laundry again.”

We took off down the street, Ollie’s arms tightening around my waist. Ten minutes later we pulled into a cracked parking lot.

Patty’s Paint and Sip occupied a storefront that looked like it had been decorated by someone who’d raided a thrift store in 1972 and never looked back. Tie-dye tapestries hung from the ceiling, swaying slightly from the air conditioning. Beaded curtains separated what I assumed was a back room from the main space. The walls were covered in peace signs, mandala posters, and paintings that ranged from decent to “my five-year-old could do better.”

Incense burned somewhere, the smell thick and sweet enough to make my nose itch. Probably patchouli. Everything in here screamed patchouli.

Five people were already inside, milling around the easels that had been set up in rows. A couple in matching sweaters stood near the back, whispering to each other. Two middle-aged women claimed spots on the left side, laughing about something. A guy who looked like he’d walked straight out of a tech startup—button-down shirt, glasses, perfectly styled hair—had positioned himself front and center.

A few of them looked up when we walked in. Their gazes landed on me, lingering on the leather, the tattoos, the general vibe that said I didn’t belong in a place that smelled like incense and good vibes.

Staring was nothing new. I’d been drawing eyes since I was a teenager, when I’d cleared six-three before the muscle had caught up. My mom’s recurring nightmare was that I’d keep going forever. I’d topped out at six-four.

Ollie’s hand found mine, squeezing once before he led me toward two empty easels near the front. Near the beaded curtain, a table held a bottle and several empty wine glasses—though I couldn’t confirm it was wine, since whoever had set it up had turned the label to the wall.

The tech startup guy had the easel right beside ours. He glanced over and smiled in a way that wasn’t particularly friendly.

“First time?” he asked, directing the question at both of us but looking mostly at Ollie.

“Yeah,” Ollie said, settling onto his stool. “You?”

“Oh no, I’ve been coming here for months. Patty’s an excellent instructor.” He adjusted his glasses with one finger. “I’m Gerald.”

“Ollie. This is Diesel.”

Gerald’s gaze slid to me, taking in my appearance, eyes flickering with surprise that someone like me would show up to a paint and sip.

“Nice to meet you,” he said, his expression radiating the opposite.

I grunted in response and lowered onto the stool next to Ollie. The goddamn thing was built for a toddler. Only one ass cheek fit. The other hung off the edge, and I had to brace my boots against the floor to keep from toppling sideways.