though, and right now they’re on board with Rev Brady. Completely, totally, 100 percent in favor of getting on this man’s bike and riding off with him. Somewhere. Wherever he wants to go. He’s big and strong and tempting. He’s fought for our country and kept everyone safe.
How bad can he be?
The little voice in my head pipes right up. How bad do you want him to be?
That voice needs a gag.
“Think about it,” he says and then he turns and saunters toward his bike. I stand there, watching his ass the whole way, and wondering why I don’t mind his attitude. He’s scary as shit. He’s not Mr. White Picket Fence and he’s not promising happily ever after, but the man has a fantastic butt and I’m lonely. That’s all it is. I need to get out more, need to make a point of seeing someone.
Someone else.
Anyone else.
There are absolutely, positively no bikers anywhere in my future.
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