Bad Boys of Romance:a Biker Anthology(9)

By: Kasey Millstead



His laughter surprises me. “Something funny?” I clip.

“I love your spunk. And baby, trust me, I won’t bullshit you. Ever.”

He captures my lips again before I have a chance to respond and he only pulls away when we’re both breathless and he’s lying on top of me, pinning me on the couch.

“I gotta go,” he says regretfully.

I see him out and then flop onto my bed, my mind spinning, and even though a part of me is frowning upon whatever just happened, and is going to happen, with Switch, my heart feels full. I can’t remember the last time I felt this happy.

I like it.





JENN


The next couple of weeks at my new job fly by. I meet with the caterer’s and finalize the menu for the ball, I delegate jobs to the committee and I have a final meeting with the decorating crew who are coming in to turn our formal conference room into a fantasy inspired ball room. They are being led by a famed interior decorator from Salt Rock, named Melissa. I’ve only met her twice, and both times she overwhelmed me with her enthusiasm, out-there personality and even more out-there sense of fashion. Still, I like her. Her personality is addictive and you can’t help but feel up beat and excited when you’re around her and she’s throwing all these wild, seemingly impossible ideas into the ring.

However, despite how busy I’ve managed to keep myself, I still can’t help it when my mind wanders to Switch. I’m not sure what it is about him, but he’s totally captivated me. I feel sick in the stomach with the amount of guilt that’s swirling around inside of me because I know I shouldn’t be feeling this way, but, then I convince myself that I shouldn’t be feeling guilty, should I? I haven’t done anything wrong. I’ve haven’t acted on my thoughts – not fully. I’ve just let my lust for him cloud my brain. Fantasies are fantasies because they’re not real; otherwise they’d be called reality. And there’s no harm in fantasizing about someone . . . right? Yes, we’ve kissed a couple of times, but we haven’t taken it further, and we haven’t really kissed since that first night, so I shouldn’t feel so bad. It could be worse. We could have slept together.

Taking a deep breath, I pick up the handset on my office phone and dial, Leslee. She’s the head of the organizing committee that I quickly put together using volunteers from the community.

“Hi, Leslee, it’s Jenna Mason speaking. How are you?”

“Hi, Jenna. I’m good, thanks. I was just looking online for a few things for the ball, actually.”

“It’s coming along spectacularly, isn’t it?” I smile.

“It sure is. What can I help you with?”

“We’re going to need some man power to help carry in the tables and chairs we’ve rented. Would you know where we can find some beefy guys who might be interested in helping out for an hour or two on Friday night?”

“Sure do,” she answers immediately, surprising me.

“Oh! That’s great. Who are they? Do you have a phone number for them?”

She rattles off a phone number and I quickly jot it down. “It’s the Mayhem boys. Roam told me last week that they’re happy to help with anything. I’m sure this won’t be a problem. Just give him a call.”

“Okay. Thanks, Leslee. I’ll speak to you soon.”

We hang up and I stare down at the piece of paper on my desk.

Well, at least it’s not Switch’s number.

Before I can talk myself out of it, I pick up the phone and dial.

“Yo,” a deep male voice answers.

“Good afternoon, it’s Jenna Mason speaking from Joe’s Bar.”

“Hey, Jenna,” he greets, sounding like he has a smile on his face.

“I hope you don’t mind me calling out of the blue like this,” I start, but he quickly cuts me off.

“Don’t mind. What can I do for you?”

“Leslee Johannson passed your number on to me and she said you and your boys may be able to help us with some heavy lifting as we set up for the ball.”

“No problem. When?”

“Uh, well, tomorrow afternoon. I’m so sorry for the late notice,” I wince.

“We can be there. About three pm?”

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