It’s what caused me to want to turn right back around and leave.
Helping now means helping later when all the guys return to celebrate being so helpful in the community.
Landon will be a part of that group, forcing more proximity on the two of us.
“Ready to see them off?” Em asks, her soft hand on my shoulder.
“Sure,” I say, following her out of the kitchen toward the front door.
Landon isn’t the only one not wearing a leather cut. Max, one of the IT specialists, doesn’t have one either. He’s part of a throuple. The man he’s involved with is Cerberus, and the woman is Kincaid’s brother Dominic’s eldest daughter. The requirement to own a Cerberus cut is Marine Corps service. Something Landon wanted before discovering baseball. I can’t help wondering if he feels the loss of that choice right now as he smiles and jokes with the other guys.
The original members, Kincaid, Landon’s dad Dustin, Shadow, Snatch, Itchy, and Dominic are riding today. All the other team members are out of town for work. They’re saving people in the world, and these guys are saving people in our community. Boomer is the only other newer guy here for some reason, but it’s not my place to question how Kincaid runs his business.
It all makes me wonder what I’ve done with my damn life.
Most days I can’t even help myself.
Wives kiss their spouses, wishing them luck. Even though they’re on separate bikes, Snatch winks at Itchy, making the man bite his lower lip to keep from smiling. Seth was right—those two are smoking hot.
I clear my throat.
“You should ride with Landon.”
I growl in Sophia’s direction.
“That’s a great idea,” Dustin says.
If I thought I’d get away with it, I’d throw a rock at Landon’s dad’s head right now.
“I’m not dressed for it,” I explain, hating to be under the scrutiny of everyone who is now looking my way.
I’m mentally making plans to strangle my stepmom, giving the group a little wave.
“Keep your leg away from the exhaust, Rick. That and staying on the bike are the only rules,” Landon says, that same devious look in his eye he had when I first pulled up earlier today.
“I’ll grab you a helmet, dear,” Em says, ever helpful.
“Awesome,” I say, doing my best to keep the irritation out of my voice as I walk toward Landon.
This wouldn’t be the first time some do-gooder fucking suggested we ride together.
“Men shouldn’t be ashamed to ride with other men,” Itchy had said the first time the suggestion was made.
I couldn’t argue that I didn’t want to make Landon uncomfortable because calling him out on his issue with my sexuality was one of those unspoken things we agreed to.
As I smile at Em when she hands over the helmet, I can’t help but wonder what it would be like to ride behind him without the hatred between us.
Don’t get me wrong, I love to ride, but the animosity leeching off of him kind of ruins the experience.
We were already deep into our anger at each other the very first time it was suggested.
“Need help with that?” Landon asks, but he doesn’t have that cocky, insulting look he normally does in his eyes.
“I got it,” I say, my tone resolved.
“It’s gonna be a great ride,” he assures me.
I make a deal with myself that I’ll have a great time. I’ll pretend he’s someone I’m not attracted to, turning him into an escort of sorts rather than a guy I’ve known all my life.
The change in him is weird, so strange that I’m lost in those thoughts when the bike shifts forward.
I squeal in fear, reaching out for him. I can feel his laughter against my torso.
“You okay?” he hollers over the roar of bikes.
I nod, not trusting my voice won’t crack because of his concern.
“Hold on.”
I do as he instructs, gripping his t-shirt at the side, making sure not to let my hands rub against his body.
There’s an order when a club is riding together. It positions Kincaid, the club president, up front and honorary members in the very back. The club doesn’t really have honorary members, but in keeping with tradition, Max and Dominic are in front of us. Each time I’ve done this with Landon, this is how it goes.
It’s familiar until it isn’t.
I was frozen before because motorcycles are extremely dangerous and they don’t exactly leave much room to wiggle around, but I’m a sheet of glacier ice when Landon’s gloved hand slides from my knee to my calf.
It means absolutely nothing. He’s probably doing the very same thing I am, imagining that I’m someone else, to stomach the pressure of my body against his back.
To him, I’m some hot chick, wearing a bikini no doubt. He’s probably picturing Keira riding with him.
As my blood begins to boil, my cock begins to swell.