Shifting Gears Read Free Page B

was pulled to him before I
even saw him. And then he walked past us, glanced our way, and my
heart stopped. At the sight of him, I literally experienced all
that poetic crap people go on about—weak in the knees, heart going
pitter-patter. The world around me muted. If you’d asked me my name
in that instant, I wouldn’t have been able to give you a
reply.
    At least six feet tall, he was badass,
in a worn leather jacket, torn jeans, and biker boots. I couldn’t
help but gawk at him. Watching the women chatter and stare in his
direction, I knew they had the same thing on their mind. They
looked just as hungry as I did. He was that hot.
    His long deep brown hair looked like
he’d rolled out of bed and run a hand through it, and I found
myself daydreaming about tangling my fingers in it. Not every man
could work that kind of hair, but he, without a doubt,
did.
    You could tell he took care of his
body, that he worked out, my guess, every day. The ribbed shirt he
wore under his jacket showed off a tight, well-defined chest, and
he had that look. The look of someone you did not want to piss off.
Ever.
    His face, unshaven, with its strong
jaw line, was so intense that even a smile did nothing to soften
it. Yet, somewhere underneath his hardness, I saw something else.
His eyes gave him away. They were blue-gray and electric, almost as
if a storm was brewing somewhere, but I saw gentleness in them.
Compassion. I was instantly hooked by the man with the tattoos and
broad shoulders. I wanted to know his story, wanted to know who he
was. I wanted him.
    He got a beer from the bar and slowly
put it to his lips. Tipping his head back, he took a deep swallow.
A shiver trailed down my back as I watched his lips on that bottle.
He hadn’t even looked back my way after walking past us, so I knew
he was clueless of my existence, my gawking. And, like always with
men like him, one of the boobs-out-to-there women lurking around
The Rox would flaunt herself his way. In a matter of minutes, he’d
be sucked into her lair.
    But I couldn’t stop watching him. My
jaw was still dropped as he took another sip from his bottle. My
heart raced when he turned his head in my direction, stared at me,
and smiled. Heat radiated through my body. I fought a pang of
nausea—and giggles at the same time—from the anticipation as he
walked across the crowded floor....to me.
    ****
    There’s a knock at my door. “Honey,
it’s me. Can I come in?”
    When I open my door, I see the “I’m
sorry, I messed up” look Cass always gives me when she feels she’s
done just that.
    It’s her way of apologizing, trying to
make a truce. I’ve seen this face so many times after a stupid
fight. She’s always the first to apologize. She can’t stand it when
we’re mad at each other. I think the longest we’ve ever gone is six
hours, and that’s only because I had to go to work. I left home
angry and in a hurry, forgetting my cell. She had to wait until I
got off work to apologize.
    Before I say anything, she blurts out,
“I’m sorry, Niki. I swear the only thing I told Ang is that he was
an ass to you when he lived here, and none of us thought we’d ever
see him again. It’s your story to tell, and I would never tell it
to anyone. I love you. I cried with you after that shit went down,
and I still wish you’d let me kick his ass.”
    I slump my shoulders and walk back
over to my bed, tossing myself across it. “Why didn’t I have the
guts to go up to him and at least slap him in the face?”
    She crosses to my bed and flings
herself onto it too, like when we were teenagers, crying or
laughing over boys at sleepovers. “Nik, hun, you know you don’t
have that in you. Leave that shit to me. Say the word, say the
fucking word, and I’m on it.”
    My dear Cass, she knows me
well.
    I turn my body sideways, facing her,
resting my head on my arm. “You wouldn’t even get a shot at him.
He’s too fast. Anyway, you know that’s something I have to do. He
did