Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 109696 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 548(@200wpm)___ 439(@250wpm)___ 366(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109696 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 548(@200wpm)___ 439(@250wpm)___ 366(@300wpm)
“You know what? This is the perfect spot for me to get out.” I toss my phone back into my purse. I’m here. The time to text Ryder was before I got on the plane. Let the chips fall the way they’re supposed to, or something like that. I’m too nervous to think right now.
“Okay…” The Volt is still slowly gliding down the road.
“Um, I could walk faster. Look, I told you to let me out.” Yes, I sound like some asshole New Yorker, but what is he doing?
“Oh shit!” His head swivels toward a Harley driving past us. The wings and dagger on the biker’s vest might as well be a billboard saying “Bad guy.”
“I’m stopping here,” he announces, making me wonder if he’s been so paralyzed with fear the poor guy hasn’t even heard me. The biker looks back at us. I don’t recognize him, but he frowns, then barrels down the driveway. Perfect. I should have texted.
“Thank you. I appreciate the ride.” I hand the kid a hundred dollars. He takes it, eyes wide, not even asking if I need help.
Taking a deep breath, I swing the door open and reach in to jerk my large Louis Vuitton luggage to the ground. A cloud of dry dirt covers my heels. Thankfully my luggage is brown and has wheels, so the dirt won’t show, and it’ll roll. I’ll walk the rest of the way. No big deal. Better than going through this torture with the Uber driver.
“Are you sure? I mean…” He looks to the right. “What is this place?”
“Take the money and go. Forget you were ever here.” I toss my hair off my shoulders and smell the orange trees in bloom. Good grief, I sound like I’m in a movie. Forget you were ever here?
“Okay,” he says again.
Rolling my eyes, I start to walk. I’m still wearing my fabulous suit and stilettos, so I’m going slow, trying not to completely ruin them on the gravel.
I squint, needing my sunglasses, but they’re buried in my purse. Jeez, the clubhouse seemed a lot closer a minute ago.
A loud pop… pop-pop makes me take a deep breath and exhale as I continue pulling my ridiculous luggage. Please, let the biker go around me. Please.
Of course, I can’t be that lucky. He idles loudly next to me. I stop and shoot him my death-slash-bitch glare, ignoring my heart, which feels like it’s pounding out of my chest.
“Hey, baby, want a ride?” The man on the Harley smiles and revs up the bike, making me want to cover my ears. The machine’s exhaust and heat hit my nose, and it’s all I can do not to choke.
“RIP! Goddamn it,” I scream and start laughing as I throw my arms around him.
“Christ, are you completely crazy? Tell me you let Ryder know you’re here?” He holds me as I cling to him. I adore Rip. He was Gia’s weed dealer back when we were at Berkeley. A couple more Harleys go by. I stay glued to Rip.
“I take it that’s a no.” He laughs. “Alright, leave your shit. I’ll send a prospect to get it. Climb on.”
“Thank God, I’m destroying my shoes.” I roll my bag to the side of the road, then grab his shoulders and sling my leg over. The seat is warm, and I’m instantly aware of how close we are. Maybe I should have walked?
Rip looks back and winks. “Grab my waist and hold on.”
“Oh, um, okay.” My hands awkwardly go around his waist. “Maybe I should—” As the massive machine takes off, I lunge into his back, effectively stifling my words. This is so uncomfortable. I try not to let my hands slip down, which is pointless. They slide with every bump. I give up and focus over his shoulder at the clubhouse, pushing away how this must look.
This was not how I saw myself arriving, but then again, what has gone smoothly today?
Seeming unbothered by my horror, Rip pulls into a spot out front and happily grins back at me.
“I should have walked.” I use his shoulder to climb off and peer around at all the faces.
“Nonsense, you would have ruined your outfit.” He winks at me.
“Rip, stop it,” I say, my voice tight.
He throws back his head to laugh and I almost kick him with my heel. “Relax, Jule. He’s not here. Come on.” He grabs my hand and starts to drag me up the porch steps.
“Hey.” He whistles loudly at a group of guys. “Prospect, get her luggage.” One jumps off the porch and heads toward my bag as Rip holds the door for me to enter.
“You want a drink? Or can I interest you in a taste of my latest blend?” He maneuvers us around the pool table and over to the bar area.