Bared:Dirty Cruisers MC(8)

By: Brook Wilder





She’d been lost, then. Lost to him, lost to her own desire, burning and raging out of control. A tempest that had overwhelmed her. So intense, so all consuming, that it had scared her. She was always in control, she had to be in control. But in that moment, she hadn’t been. In that moment, she’d been wild and reckless and foolish.



And then it had ended. She’d come back down to earth with a painful thud and had fled. Running away. She’d hated that, running from him. Like a coward. But she couldn’t stay there. Because she knew. She knew if she’d stayed there with him she would have given him everything. And in the end, she would have been left with nothing but pain and heartache. That’s how men like Honey operated. They ran through women like water, but not her. Never her.



“Elle, what do you say?” Carla was looking at Elle, her expression expectant.



“Wh–what?” Elle gave a shuddering breath as Carla’s voice interrupted her thoughts, “What was that?”



“I said, do you think you can give it till the end of the week? I can find you work here, in the office. I just need to get things organized. And…just so you know,” She added slowly, “Honey isn’t really working here. He’s got his job at the clubhouse–”



“Yes, his venerated position as bartender. Very crucial,” Elle interrupted with a roll of her warm brown eyes, her voice caustic and Carla sent her a look of reproof.



“You know, it’s more than that, right? A lot more. He’s the eyes and ears of the crew. He’s the one who makes sure that everyone is happy, that no one is double crossing, or cheating anyone else. He’s the one who stops fights, and makes sure that violence doesn’t break out. It’s a lot more than just pouring beers for bikers.” Carla gave her another look, adding to the guilt that was already spreading like an oil slick through her, “He’s only helping out here because I begged him, and only a few hours when he can. So, you’ll be safe from him.”



“Oh, okay,” Elle said quietly, “That’s…that’s good then.”



“If you would just tell me–”



“No, Carla,” Elle said, giving her a pleading look, “I’ll help, okay? I’ll do everything I can to help you because you’re my friend but I…I can’t talk about that, alright?”



Carla held up her hands in mock defeat, even though Elle could still see the curious light shining in her blue eyes, “Okay, okay, I won’t pry. Tomorrow then?”



But Elle was already shaking her head, “No, I’ve got piano lessons tomorrow.”



“The day after, then?” Carla asked, hopeful and Elle gave in with a grin.



“You are relentless.”



“It’s one of the things you like best about me.”



Elle just laughed, shaking her head, then grimaced, “Will he be here?” She asked before she could stop herself, and Carla gave a slight nod.



“It’ll be fine, I promise.”



“As long as he behaves himself,” Elle said primly, and then grimaced again as she caught a whiff of herself, “I’m a…I’m going to go home now, though, and shower,” she said, taking off towards the door.



“And burn that dress!” Carla shouted after her.



Elle glanced back with a shudder, “You read my mind.”





Chapter 3


Honey held his hand up, fist clenched just inches from the door he was about to knock on, Elle’s door, but then let it drop with a sigh. He hated apologizing. It was something that he’d never been good at as a child, or a teenager, or now that he was an adult. He just didn’t like admitting that he was wrong.



But you were wrong, asshole, a voice said inside his head, now man up and fucking say you’re sorry.



He remembered the scene yesterday at the farm. Joel had asked him to run some errands, and he’d been drawn by the noises coming from the green house. He’d frozen when he’d walked in and seen Elle standing there, the last person he would have expected to find hauling buckets of compost. Well, not so much hauling as…dropping. Directly on top of herself. And in a dress, no less. And a cardigan.



Honey shook his head, a lopsided smile drawing across his face as he remembered the picture she’d painted, all feminine outrage as she rolled around in the pile of muck. He didn’t understand it. Even literally covered in shit, she’d still been the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. He just couldn’t wrap his head around it.



He’d just been trying to help, really, but his temper had snapped a little when she’d refused to let him. And he hated that almost more than he hated apologizing. But he knew he owed it to her. Especially if he was going to keep working at the farm in his off hours. It would be torture. It would be heaven.

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