The Originals (Ghosttown Riders #10)

Chapter One

Mick and Meg

Where the hell am I?

More importantly, how had she gotten talked into coming, and where was the emergency exit? So many questions and so few answers. Meg Sanders peered around the room trying to control the utter disgust marring her features. This scene went beyond the scope of indecency.

I don’t even know what I’m looking at.

At twenty-two, she was far from a prude. She’d had a few boyfriends, some lasting longer than others. She’d indulged with more sexual partners than most of her friends. If anything, she’d been considered the more adventurous of her group. However, sex wasn’t something she flaunted in a room full of people, unlike the woman on her knees servicing a biker on the couch.

Meg ducked her head, sipped her beer, and pressed her back against the wall, taking in the rest of the scene. She’d heard about the motorcycle club and their parties. It was spoken about in a hushed setting, and always about someone else.

Ghosttown Riders MC’s reputation reached far and wide. An outlaw biker gang. No, a club. She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. It was judgmental, but it was honest. She’d heard the stories, been privy to a shakedown in her own town at a small business, and seen a fight break out between a few members and another MC years ago at a local car show. She didn’t have enough details to know how it started or who was responsible. But there was a clear winner. Ghosttown.

Ruthless, hell-raising criminals. That’s how they were painted, and most people bought into it, including Meg for a while. It was easier to believe the scandalous stories than to consider an alternative. Much like anything in life, the older she’d gotten and experienced, the more her perceptions changed. Meg still wasn’t sold on the idea of the members of Ghosttown MC being good guys, but she doubted they were anywhere near as bad as they were portrayed. It was one of the reasons she’d said yes when her friend, Linda, invited her to the party.

Speaking of. Meg turned slightly, sipped her beer, and waved to Linda, who was standing between two bikers. Her friend was lifted up on her toes, looking around. When their eyes met, she rushed over, sidling next to Meg.

“Isn’t this great?”

Great? That’s not the word I would use.

Linda nudged her arm against Meg. “Bet you’re glad I dragged you here, huh?”

Dragged was a bit of an exaggeration. Although Meg didn’t initially jump at the chance to go, Linda had been adamant she’d go with or without her. That had swayed Meg on a decision that she was silently considering. What good was life if she didn’t live it? A biker party wasn’t exactly checking off boxes on all the things she wanted to do, but it pulled her out of her comfort zone. Living on the edge had its intrigue.

Of course, that ended ten minutes after they’d walked in and were greeted with a less than welcoming reception from all the women. It became clear Meg and Linda were seen as competition. It was a poor interpretation on the women’s end. Maybe Linda and her excessively-friendly appeal would pique a biker’s interest, but not Meg. She was well aware of the vibe she was projecting, and it wasn’t positive. To say she was out of her element would’ve been an understatement.

Linda, on the other hand, was totally in her comfort zone, embracing her wild child. This was not her everyday persona. That was a bit more conservative than shaking her ass in her short skirt and halter top. But everyone needed to let loose sometimes.

Meg smiled at her friend and asked, “What time do you want to leave?”

Linda halted her dancing and swung her head around, frowning. “We just got here.”

“An hour ago,” Meg stated. It was a fact, and she would know. She’d been checking her watch for the last forty minutes.

Linda let out an overly-dramatic sigh. “Don’t be like this, Meg.”

“Be like what?”

It may as well have been a rhetorical question. Meg knew exactly was Linda meant. She had enough self-awareness to know she was being a buzzkill, and her friend’s reaction confirmed it.

Linda grinned with a light chuckle and shook her head.

Meg raised her brows. “I came, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, and if you lose the sour puss and start to enjoy yourself, maybe mingle?” Linda hooked her arm over Meg’s shoulder and leaned closer to her ear. “You can come again.”

There was no missing the innuendo. The likelihood of her getting together with any man at the party, biker or not, was slim. Instead of giving a hostile retort, Meg decided to ignore her friend’s comment and muddle through the next hour or two. Please, dear God, don’t let it be three.

Meg glanced around the room. It was a large, living room type setting with a bar and stools toward the back. She assumed at one time it had been someone’s family home. Considering the size, children were probably raised in the house. All holidays were most likely spent in this very room. Meg flattened her lips and raised her brows. If they could see it now.

Meg wasn’t knowledgeable in the way of motorcycle clubs, but she assumed one of the bikers must be the owner. She scanned the men with the leather vests and Ghosttown insignia on the back. There were a lot of them. A few she’d seen around her town occasionally, but Meg had never said a single word to any of them. As far as she knew, neither had Linda until recently. Meg hadn’t asked too many details. Maybe I should’ve.

She sipped her beer and sighed. “Which one invited you to the party?”

Linda giggled and pointed across the room. “The guy in the blue shirt standing near the bar.”

Meg lifted her chin, trying her best to see through the crowd. The small bar across the room had several men surrounding it. Most of them wore the Ghosttown cut except for a younger guy standing apart from the others. It was hard to gauge if he was part of their conversation or just trying to be. One thing was clear; he wasn’t a member of the club.

“I thought you said he was a biker.”

From the story Linda had given her, she’d been invited by one of the members.

“Yeah, he is. I saw him take off on his motorcycle after I met him at the gas station this morning.”

Meg furrowed her brows, and a wave of fear washed over her. “This morning?”

“Yeah, his name is Billy.” Linda paused, knitting her brows. “Or Bobby. Something like that.”

Meg grasped her friend’s arm. “But he’s not a member of the Ghosttown Riders?”

“I don’t know,” Linda said, smiling at a man passing by.

“Linda,” she snapped. “When you said you were invited, you made it sound like the guy was in the club.”

“What’s the big deal?”

Was she joking?

Meg ground her teeth and balled her fists. “We’re party crashers at a biker club!”

Oh hell, we’re getting murdered tonight. Her statement was a little dramatic but not necessarily inaccurate. While she didn’t know all the ins and outs of club life, she was sure they wouldn’t take kindly to strangers walking into their party and drinking their beer when they weren’t personally invited. Meg had heard one story from years ago about a few guys she’d gone to high school with crashing a Ghosttown party. It didn’t end well for them.

“Got your eye on anyone?”

What the…? Meg twisted her lips and jerked her head to Linda. This was not her usual type of crowd. For starters, most of the men were older by at least a decade, wearing motorcycle club patches and rowdier than guys she’d spent time around. Meg wasn’t opposed to a gruff rebel, but these men were beyond her limit.

“So, do you?” Linda asked.

Her friend was completely oblivious to their current situation. Or maybe Meg was just overreacting. Either way, with their new status as party crashers , Meg was eager to speed up their departure time.

“Does Eddie know you’re here?”

Linda clamped her lips, peering around the room and clearly avoiding the question. “I’m going to get another drink. You want something?”

There was Meg’s answer. Eddie, Linda’s boyfriend, and by all accounts future husband, had no clue where she was spending her Saturday night. Like most of their friends, Linda had been in a long-term committed relationship. She hadn’t gotten engaged just yet, but it was only a matter of time. It seemed like the inevitable goal for most people her age in her small town of Turnersville. Except Meg.

Meg reached out, grabbing her friend’s hand. “Lin, maybe we should…”

“He’s going to propose,” Linda blurted.

Meg raised her brows. “Eddie? When, and how do you know?”

Linda sighed, glancing around the room. Within seconds, she’d lost a little of her spark. “My sister overheard him and my dad talking. He’s already got the ring, but he wanted to speak to my dad first and get his blessing.” Linda stepped closer until they were only inches apart. “He’s going to propose, and I’m going to say yes.”

The lack of excitement was not usually how a bride-to-be reacted to the news she was getting married. It was a total contradiction to her expected response.

“You don’t have to say yes.” Meg said.

Linda snorted, rolled her eyes, and shook her head. “Of course I do. He’s a good solid man. Great job, steady income, and he loves me. I’d be a fool to say no. That’s what my mom says, and my sister, and all my friends.” Linda smirked. “Well, everyone except you.”

It was true. Meg was the only one in their friend group who never pushed the “settling down and starting a family” agenda. If anything, her resistance was outspoken, punctuated by valid points. Though, not many people shared her opinion. Unless? Had she swayed Linda into thinking there was more to life than settling down?

“If you don’t want to marry Eddie, you don’t have to. No one can force you.”

Linda knitted her brows. “I want to marry him.”

I’m so confused.

Meg spread out her arms. “Then why are we here?”

“Because I want one night where no one knows me, and I can do whatever the hell I please without any judgement. Like a last night of freedom.” Linda cocked her head and sighed. “Let me have it, Meg.”

Dammit. How could Meg say no? After all, who was Meg to judge anyone’s choices? She nodded, and Linda immediately pepped up and pointed across the room.

“Want another beer?”

Meg shook her head and watched her friend zigzag through the crowd. Sometimes friends had to make sacrifices for each other. This was Meg’s.

She continued to slow sip her beer and simply observe. So far two fights had broken out, one between two men and the other between two women. A man had literally been thrown out the front door, glass had shattered when someone wielded a bottle against the wall, and a girl spilled beer on her shoes.

Meg checked her watch and internally groaned. What had felt like hours had only been thirty minutes. The small room with the bar had gotten busier, and her small corner had become permeated by a few bikers. It left her in an unsavory position, especially when a dark-haired man with neck tattoos seemed to take a sudden interest in her. She offered a smile, but her gesture was not returned. Instead he continued to stare. It was daunting and unsettling, to say the least. When he started to move closer, Meg inched out from the corner and made her way to the back door.

She walked into the yard where there were just as many people as inside, but thankfully, more space to move around. There was a bonfire, bigger than any she’d ever seen before. Her high school hosted one every year the night before the homecoming football game, but this one put theirs to shame.

A cool breeze washed over her, and her skin broke out in goose bumps. It had gotten much colder than it had been when they’d arrived. Meg shivered and placed her beer on the ground. She rubbed her hands over her arms trying to create some heat. She considered moving closer to the fire. There were a few openings but no other women. Meg took two steps forward and immediately reconsidered.

“I’m so out of my element,” she muttered, shifting on her feet, trying to find some type of warmth.

“Yeah, why’s that?”

Meg jumped, inadvertently kicking over her beer, and spun around, retreating a few steps. She hadn’t even realized anyone had been behind her. Clearly, she was wrong. The man, and he was indeed a man, not a boy, stood a few feet away. He lifted his cigarette to his lips, taking a deep drag while eyeing her head to toe. His longish dark blond hair was swept to the side with a few strands flowing in his eyes. Even through the obstruction, his piercing blue gaze caught her attention.

Meg hadn’t seen him inside, but his leather vest with all its patches was a clear indication he was a member of Ghosttown Riders MC. It should’ve put her on edge as it had earlier when a member started to approach her. Oddly enough, this man didn’t. Still, she was cautious considering how she came to be at the party.

When he cocked his brow, she was reminded that he’d asked her something. Oh! What was the question?

Meg leaned in slightly. “Pardon?”

The corner of his mouth curled. “Said you’re out of your element. Why’s that?”

There were several reasons, and none she’d be sharing with him. Offending the host was never a good idea. Meg swallowed the knot in her throat and forced an awkward chuckle. She was stalling. Conveniently, the best reply she could come up with wasn’t exactly a lie.

“I’m not from here.”

He was silent, taking another perusal of her body. His deep stare sent a rush of heat through her veins and a blush spreading across her chest. And it was in full view of the biker. She was displaying more skin than usual. A plunging neckline showed the tops of her breasts and a sliver of belly paired with low-rise bellbottoms that hugged her every curve. Meg had put effort into her outfit, and for a party with her own friends, it may have leaned on the side of scandalous. But not here. She may as well have been wearing a full parka compared to the topless women in bikini bottoms running around the party.

“I don’t live in Ghosttown,” she blurted, for no other reason than to draw his attention to her face rather than her breasts.

He glanced up, smirking. “Not many do.”

Meg smiled and ultimately snickered at the joke. Ghosttown was aptly named. She wasn’t sure how many people actually resided in the small town, but there weren’t a lot. They didn’t have their own police or fire department, church, or school. They were lucky to have a gas station, market, and diner. Other than that, it was a virtual ghost town . It was the opposite of her own town a few miles away.

“What’s your name?”

Meg licked her lips, grazing her teeth on her bottom lip. Should she tell him? It seemed rude not to, but she was being cautious.

“What’s yours?” Turning the question on him seemed to be her best line of defense.

He didn’t hesitate. “Mick.”

“Short for Michael or Mickey?”

“Neither.” The corner of his mouth curled. “Just Mick.”

He had a great smile. The kind that put people at ease and invited conversation. It would have been fairly easy to fall for it. Meg was sure many women had, but she wouldn’t be one of them. Linda may have a scandalous fling in her sights, but Meg did not.

“Well, it was nice to meet you, Mick,” Meg said, scanning the yard as she took a step to pass him. It was definitely time to find Linda and get out of there.

Mick stepped in front of her, blocking her path. For as rough and rugged as he appeared, he had softer features. He was handsome, and she’d bet if he had been clean-shaven, his features would appear chiseled.

“But we haven’t met unless you tell me your name.”

He had a point.

“Meg.”

He smiled with a nod. “Mick and Meg. That sounds good together.”

Meg resisted the urge to laugh. Mick obviously had flirting down to a science. By all outward appearances, she hadn’t expected him to be charming. But he is.

“Mick!”

Meg glanced over her shoulder. Two men wearing similar cuts waved Mick over to the bonfire. She looked up at Mick. He ignored them, keeping his attention on her. She liked that a little too much. Meg felt the heat rise to her cheeks and fiddled with the ends of her hair.

“I think they want you to go over there.”

He took a step forward, and shockingly, she didn’t back away. He was taller than her by at least six inches, and his biceps were larger and more defined than all the guys she’d hung around with. Yet his stature wasn’t as intimidating as the others’. Maybe it was his voice, deep but smooth.

“I think I want to stay here.”

Meg gave in to a smile. It was sweet and kind, and had she been a different type of girl, or one looking for something one night could provide, she would’ve stayed too. But I’m not.

“I actually have to go find my friend.”

Mick smiled and arched his brow. “I think you better wait on that.”

Meg cocked her head. “Why?”

“’Cause last I saw her, she was bent over the sink in the bathroom with her skirt around her waist getting railed.”

What? Meg felt her face immediately pale. Mick was giving her a visual she did not need or want. It seemed Linda had taken her last night of freedom to heart. Among other places.

“By the sound of it, and her screaming ‘fuck me harder,’ I think she was enjoying it.”

Oh hell. Meg rolled her eyes. Linda was living out her last fantasy before committing to a life of monotony. Who am I to disrupt that?

Meg shook her head and chuckled. “Then it looks like I’m going to be here a little bit longer.”

“Not exactly the response I was expecting,” he said.

She peeked up at Mick and shrugged. “It’s her life. She gets to live it.”

The corner of his mouth curled, and he nodded. “We all do.”

Cheers to that, Mick.

****

John “Mick” McMillian had clocked the dark-haired beauty the second she walked through the door. She was impossible to miss. Her pretty face alone would’ve caught his and everyone else’s attention, but there was a distinct difference between her and the other female guests. Their club parties attracted a certain type of woman, and she wasn’t it. Too reserved, too cautious, and too damn fucking beautiful. This girl was on another level.

Mick didn’t recognize her or the friend steering them through the room. That didn’t mean much. At any given party there were plenty of people, men and women, he didn’t know. A lot of them came for the experience. No rules or limits. Some came with an agenda, men wanting to check out the club or brought in by a member hoping to get a bid to prospect. The women were different. Some came to party, others came to stay, and on a rare occasion, one came without any clue why she was there. That seemed to be the case for this young beauty.

Her mannerisms were a dead giveaway. Her body was tense while putting on a good front, trying to appear comfortable. She wasn’t. That wasn’t to say she didn’t find the party intriguing. Mick watched her sneak a few looks across the room at a brother getting head in the corner. Curious but not interested.

Mick had watched her every move for the last hour. She’d spent most of it alone until now. She stood with her friend. Their seemingly light conversation had taken a turn, the mystery girl frowning with a sharp scowl. He had no idea what caused the quick shift, but his captivating girl was clearly unhappy. They must’ve resolved their disagreement, because a few minutes later they shared a smile.

He lifted his beer bottle, watching her sink deeper into the corner as her friend walked toward the bar. For the next twenty minutes, she stayed almost hidden near the wall. When it seemed a member took notice of her, she quickly moved, disappearing into the crowd. She was definitely aware of her surroundings. His brothers may have lost sight of her, but Mick didn’t. His arm shifted forward when someone knocked into him, but Mick kept his gaze locked on her.

“That’s some virgin pussy, brother.” Grain laughed, gripping his shoulder in a tight squeeze.

It was possible. She certainly didn’t look as though she was eager for any male attention. Not exactly scared, but definitely uneasy and on edge. Cautious, as she should be. Mick had seen too many women come into the club not fully understanding their roles, or what might be expected of them from some of the brothers. Mick had a lot of respect and love for not only the club, but the brothers who rode beside him. However, some were assholes. And some were even worse.

Mick lifted his chin. “Who brought her?”

Most times, members were the only ones allowed to invite outsiders into their gatherings. There was a lot more leniency when it came to women, but they had to know someone.

“Jerry, I think. He invited the blonde.” Grain scoffed. “That fucker thinks bringing in slits is gonna give him a better chance at prospecting. Like we need the fucking help getting broads in here. Fucking idiot, that one.”

Mick didn’t always agree with Grain, but he had a valid point. The club was never hard up for fresh meat in the form of women. Bringing them in also wouldn’t help Jerry’s chances. He wasn’t Ghosttown material, and half the guys knew it.

Mick nodded with his gaze still locked on the girl. Mick had no intention of making a move just yet. Surprisingly, he was content watching her, how she attempted to disappear into the corner as if hoping no one would notice. He brought his cigarette to his lips, taking a deep drag and squinting.

“A little fucking competition, brother?” Grain asked.

Mick looked over at Grain, whose scowl deepened. Some might take it as a challenge with Grain wanting to take a shot at Mick’s new obsession. But Mick knew Grain better than anyone, reading the question for what it was—a warning.

Mick followed Grain’s stare back to the corner of the room where his little beauty had been holed up. It seemed Mick wasn’t the only man to notice her. Mack, the VP, had turned and was staring her down with a very familiar look. Interest.

Mick straightened, placing his bottle on the bar. He might be making his move sooner than expected. Unless a woman was an old lady, she was up for grabs. It was rare to see any of the brothers fight over a woman. The focus was always on the life, not pussy. But Mick had silently staked his claim an hour ago, and he wasn’t going to back down.

The girl seemed immediately aware of Mack, though she lacked any mutual interest. She skirted the group, dipping through the crowd in a zig-zag motion and making a beeline for the back door. It was pretty stealthy. A little too stealthy for Mick. It was the first time all night he lost sight of her. He turned, slapped Grain on the back, and circled the bar, heading to the back door.

“Go get your virgin piece, brother.” Grain’s boisterous taunting did nothing to dissuade Mick. He was a man on a mission. Unlike Grain’s quip, Mick was a little more invested than a quick fuck in his room. There was just something about her.

Just as Mick passed the bathroom door that was cracked open, he glanced over when he heard a female shout, “Oh God, fuck me harder!”

Mick couldn’t help but laugh when he saw the woman’s face. His girl may be a virgin, but her friend wasn’t.

Mick stalked outside, scanning the yard. There was a decent crowd outside with most people sticking close to the fire. Most but not her. He looked to his right and was about to start wandering around in search of her. He didn’t have to bother. On the far left near the clubhouse but separated from the group, she stood by herself, rubbing her hands up and down her arms.

Mick didn’t waste any time walking up behind her, catching her off guard, and putting every ounce of effort into getting her to stick around with him. And so far, it was working.

An hour later, he stood in the same spot, completely enamored with her. Everything about this woman arrested his attention. Her face, her body, her scent, her voice, and every word that came out of her mouth. Every fucking thing.

He was quickly learning that Meg wasn’t exactly like he’d assumed, especially her response to her friend’s bathroom liaisons. She proved to be more open-minded and free than he expected. It didn’t mean she ranked with most of the other women at the party. She was still different, and in a way, Mick couldn’t seem to get enough.

“I have a confession. We weren’t exactly invited.” Meg blushed, offering him a shy smile.

“Ahh…” He snickered.

“We’re party crashers.” She shrugged. “Linda was invited, but not by anyone in the club. Is that gonna be a problem, you think?”

It may have been for anyone else. But not for her. He’d challenge anyone who questioned her or had the balls to try and kick her out. Meg wasn’t going anywhere, if Mick had a say. And I fucking do.

As a founding member of Ghosttown Riders MC, his word, along with several others, was gospel and rarely challenged.

“Considering this ain’t a party, it’s not gonna be an issue.”

Meg furrowed her brows, and her gaze darted around the yard. “This isn’t a party?”

“No.” Mick smiled. “This is a gathering. Parties are a lot wilder. But if anyone asks, you tell them you’re with me.”

Her teeth grazed her bottom lip, and she seemingly fought against a smile. “Thanks.”

He nodded and followed her stare when she looked across the yard and widened her eyes. It was a common sight. Two club whores were dancing around the fire topless. Meg’s cheeks pinkened, and she averted her eyes, strategically avoiding the women. Mick was tempted to tease her but wasn’t willing to risk sending her running. Instead, he chose a distraction. He took a few steps, which in turn blocked her view.

“I’m taking you out.” He wasn’t asking. That would give her the option to refuse. Mick didn’t doubt her attraction, but she might get too far in her own head, overthinking what a date with him would look like. “Dinner and a movie. Go for a ride. Maybe take a detour by the river. Tell me where you live, and I’ll pick you up tomorrow night.”

Meg blinked incessantly, clearly caught off guard by the invitation. Mick wasn’t sure why. Hell, she was the most beautiful girl at the clubhouse.

The corners of Meg’s lips curled. Mick caught the way her eyes grazed over his body and the faint pinkening of her cheeks. He almost had her, but she shook her head and glanced up.

“I don’t think so.”

Overthinking, sweetheart.

Mick could’ve let her walk away. There were dozens of women around, and half had been vying for his attention all night. He could be balls deep in another in five minutes flat. Yet, he kept his boots firmly planted in front of her. Her soft brown eyes darted between the bonfire and the parking lot, avoiding his stare.

Fuck, she’s beautiful.

“How come?”

Meg jerked her head, and her hair fell over one shoulder, showing off the column of her neck. Mick knew just the spot to kiss to get her toes curling and her panties drenched.

“What?”

He shifted his gaze, meeting her stare. “Turning me down, least you can do is tell me why.”

Meg laughed, then knitted her brows, but remained silent. It probably wasn’t good etiquette to question a woman who refuted his advances. But I’m no fucking gentlemen . Nor was he the type of man to take no for an answer when she clearly wanted to say yes. He could see it in her expression. She was focusing more on a date with a biker than a date with him.

“Got your eye on someone else?”

“No,” she blurted.

Mick smirked with a nod. It was good since he wasn’t about to let anyone else get close to her. If she didn’t want him, he wouldn’t force it, but he’d be damned if he’d let another man, including a brother, take her anywhere.

“You already got a man?”

“No.” She cleared her throat. “I had a boyfriend, but we broke up.”

Boyfriend. He knew the term, heard the younger incoming prospects use it. Mick might’ve even said it once or twice when he was a teen, but he couldn’t remember.

“Was he an asshole? Break your heart?”

Meg giggled, soft and whimsical, like something he’d heard in kids’ movies. It was youthful and innocent, much like the girl standing in front of him. If Mick had to guess, he was about ten years older than her.

“No. He’s actually a real nice guy. Just not the one for me.”

“Well, then you still haven’t given me any reason why I can’t pick you up and take you out.”

Meg seemed to sober up and nibbled on her bottom lip. Watching her lips as her tongue poked out had a physical effect on him. His dick instantly hardened, stretching against the zipper of his jeans. If she was the type of woman he was used to, he’d have her in his bed, stripped down and spread out. Fuck her ’til she passes out.

But she wasn’t. And for unexplainable reasoning, that got him even harder. His desire was strong, along with his attraction. The roaring sound of engines had her spinning around. A few members were pulling in.

“Motorcycles make me a little nervous,” she muttered.

Mick squinted, eyeing her. He could read between the lines and her words. She may be nervous, but from the way she watched the bikers circle the lot and how she inspected each bike with interest, she was far more intrigued than scared. But he wouldn’t call out her lie. Instead, he’d offer her an alternative.

“I got a truck too. Pick you up in that.” Mick held back his smile when she turned back to him and flattened her lips. “Gotta eat, so we’ll get dinner first and then see a movie. Even buy you some popcorn and a box of those little chocolates.”

“I’m allergic to chocolate.”

Who the fuck is allergic to chocolate? Apparently, my girl. Mick sighed and looked over at the group circled around the bonfire. Her eyes were on him. He felt it in his core, which didn’t help the growing erection. When he turned back to her, his suspicions were confirmed. Meg was staring intently at him.

“Then I’ll get you a box of those jelly things covered in sugar that takes fucking days to get outta your teeth. Pain in the ass but better than chocolate.”

Meg smiled. “Got an answer for everything.”

“Yeah, and you got no reason not to go out with me.”

That seemed to stump her. She rocked back on her feet. It was as if she was deeply considering the date, but something was holding her back.

“I’m not going to sleep with you.”

Mick caught himself before laughing and cupped his mouth. So that was the issue. It was fair and valid. He assumed she was the type of woman who made a man work for it. He’d have to prove himself worthy to share her bed. She wouldn’t just lay down with any man. Meg was the polar opposite of Mick when it came to sex. And strangely enough, he liked it.

Mick stepped forward, and she immediately froze. He had about half a foot on her, forcing her to crane her neck and look up. He brushed his knuckles over her bare shoulder, and she shuddered slightly. He leaned in and whispered, “Ever?”

Her throat bobbed, and her neck turned a deep shade of pink. “Not on the first date.”

Mick forced himself not to smile, but his lips twitched, and he turned his head. The last thing he needed was for her to think he was laughing at her. He wasn’t, though he did see the humor in this situation. It had been over a decade since he’d taken anyone on a date. Even longer since he hadn’t fucked after first meeting a woman he was interested in. This girl didn’t check any boxes in the list of criteria he’d wanted in the past.

Game changer.

“No fucking on the first date. Got it.”

He realized his mistake the second her jaw dropped. Fucking probably wasn’t the best choice of words for a woman like Meg.

Shit!

“Or the second,” she blurted, narrowing her gaze.

I deserve that.

Meg lifted her chin and straightened her back. “Not the third either.”

Christ! Mick had just dug a bigger hole for himself, and now he was questioning if she was even worth it. That thought was fleeting, and he grasped her hand.

“Dinner and a movie. That’s all I’m asking for.”

She gulped. It was cute. Sweet and innocent, yet there was something of a vixen in her. She just kept it well hidden, he guessed.

“Okay. I’ll meet you at the movie theater. It’s only a few blocks from my house in Turnersville. Seven o’clock?”

Mick raised his brows. He’d expected to have to fight harder. “Yeah.”

The corner of her mouth curled, but her gaze flickered past him. He looked over his shoulder and saw her friend standing by the back door with a well satisfied grin on her face.

“I have to go,” Meg said, and slipped past him. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“I’ll be there,” Mick said, eyeing the way her jeans curved around her ass.

Meg was a few feet away, and he hadn’t taken his eyes off her. She stopped suddenly and spun around. “I changed my mind, though.”

“’Bout the date?” He laughed.

A small smile played on her lips, and she shook her head. “You can bring the motorcycle.”

That’s my girl.

And she would be.