Page 1 of Oops! I Fell for the Biker Next Door

Chapter one

Riot

The last place I want to be caught in is Willowbrook Ridge. Yet here I am, soaring down a long stretch of highway toward the small town, with nothing but my cut wrapped around my body and a bag slung over my shoulder with enough clothes to get through a week. Not even the roar of my motorcycle eases this unsettling feeling in my gut.

I left this place behind so long ago to find something that would satisfy me financially; it's almost laughable that I ended up stationed in the town next door. Now I don't even have to travel that far to get back to the place I grew up in.

The rumble of my engine deepens into a hypnotic growl as I weave through the trickle of highway traffic. Hearing the few honks echoing behind me fuels the adrenaline pumping through my veins, a sensation I prefer to what's there now.

Then comes the wooden structure looming on the shoulder—the Welcome to Willowbrook Ridge sign, weathered at the edges and looking just as tired as I feel.

My mouth curves into a hard frown behind my visor. Passing it leaves a sour taste in my mouth. I know I can't avoid the local charter forever. Before the week is out, I’ll have to ride up to the clubhouse, shake hands, and check in with the brothers stationed here.

But not today. Someone is waiting for me.

I keep the throttle steady, pushing past the main strip, where busy storefronts blur by in the back of my mind. My eyes are currently locked on one thing, and one thing only.

Up ahead, the mountain rises against the skyline like an imposing threat, promising a rough climb with winding roads leading to a cabin owned by a woman I haven't seen in ages.

Cold air slices through my jacket, smelling of recent rain and crushed pine needles as I reach the vast expanse of trees. Every shift of the gears feels like a fight against gravity, but the bike handles the steep grade without flinching.

It's a miracle I still remember the drive, but somehow, I make it to the row of cabins in one piece.

A sudden, unwanted ache of nostalgia creeps in as the old layout comes flooding back.

This is where I grew up. Unlike many of my brothers, my childhood was nothing but good memories. The ache in my chest isn't painful, just... lonely.

Once I see who is sitting on the porch, I snap out of my nostalgic daze and stumble off my bike.

"Ma, what are you doing out here?" Barely making it up the creaky steps without tripping, I face the woman I haven't seen in a decade. Wearing far more wrinkles and missing a shawl or jacket to keep her covered from the cool autumn air, I immediately get fussy.

"Lucas..." Sighing a name I haven't heard in ages with such relief, it hits me square in the chest enough that I'm nearly sinking to my knees in front of her.

Before I can do anything useful with my arms or hands, she's reaching out for me. For a woman nearing her fifties and stuck in a wheelchair, she's got the strength to choke a poor soul by yanking them down like she currently is doing to me.

I don't mind in the slightest. Not when I can feel her heat here in the flesh rather than through the cool surface of my phone.

I fucking missed this. Missed her.

Many would think I'm a terrible son for abandoning his mother for so long, but it's the opposite, really.

The lifestyle I live? It's far too dangerous for a disabled woman. Anyone who disagrees can go fuck themselves. All they need to know is I earn enough money to make sure she's living happily.

Even if she is a little upset about needing to move to an assisted living facility, she doesn't even hold my nonexistence trips against me.

Speaking of which—"Where is Tonya?"

Looking around for the person who should be with my mother at all times to make sure she doesn't need anything, a frown immediately forms when I see the lack of another soul around.

Is that why she's out here alone? Did Tonya forget all about her?

"I let her have the day off. Now that you're here, I don't need her." She waves her hand dismissively and clicks her tongue. "Unfurrow that brow of yours. You look so serious."

For her, I try to give her what she wants. I try to relax, but the moment doesn't last long.

The screech of a screen door snags my attention. Call it a bad habit, but when I turn at the sudden sound, my hand goes straight to my hip, toward my holster.

Instead of thinking about whatever dangers could lurk up here on the mountain, everything goes out the window the moment I look at the cabin next door.