“Yup,” he said with a dip of his chin. “Been a Stallion fifteen years. Been Enforcer for five.”
“And, um, what exactly does an enforcer do?”
Jed smiled, the expression lighting up his pretty eyes.
“Technically, I lead the charge to protect my brothers and the club’s reputation.”
I was finding all of this fascinating. He was clearing away a bit of the mystery shrouded around the club. The more I learned, the more I realized how structured the Wild Stallions were. In a way, it made sense. They ran more than one successful business. That said, I wasn’t naïve enough to believe everything they did was above board. Especially not after last night. They were rebels acquainted with those who made up the underbelly of society.
It was my turn to set aside my drink and prop myself against my forearms atop the table as I leaned toward him.
“About the possibility of being the Stallions’ general counsel—what kind of legal services do you all require?”
“You free tomorrow night?”
I knit my eyebrows together in confusion. “Yes, I believe so. Why?”
“I’ll set somethin’ up so you can meet Bull—officially, that is.”
Bull. The man with the curly mustache. He was the president of the Wild Stallions.
Thatdefinitelychecked.
“Oh. Okay, sure.”
“Alright. Enough shop talk, then. We’re on a date.”
For a second, I was floating again, and I couldn’t hold back my smile.
“Right. That we are.”
As if right on cue, our server arrived with our dinner.
The food was really good—the company was better.
Jed was laid back and fun in that flirty sort of way. When I spoke and he listened, he made me feel like I was the only woman in the world. When he spoke, I got wrapped up in the stories he told.
He asked me about my journey to becoming a lawyer, and he shared his passion for building and fixing things with his hands. When he inquired what I liked to do for fun, I was embarrassed to admit work was my most consistent hobby, to which he responded, “Sounds like you need to get out more. I’ll see what I can do about that.”
I liked the sound of that, even if it was foolish to hope for it.
He talked about his favorite places to ride and the best trips he’d taken on his Harley over the years. Though, more than anything, he talked about his kids. I loved that. On paper, he was a great dad. He was a provider and a caretaker, which was noteworthy in and of itself. But the way he talked about them, in a setting that was not in my office or in response to my obligatory questions, it was heartwarming.
As the night wore on, I was beginning to fear he was too good to be true.
There had to be a catch. There always was.
“What do you say we go for a ride?” he asked after settling our bill.
Maybe hewastoo good to be true, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t enjoy him while it lasted.
“Sure,” I agreed as we stood.
No lie, we rode into the sunset.
He took us twenty minutes up the road to a town just big enough to turn around and ride back. Riding with him after dinner was a whole lot better than after being kidnapped. Rather than holding onto him while I battled too many emotions to properly identify, I got to hold onto him and simply relish in the thrill of the whole experience.
The rumble of his Harley’s engine, and the vibration of the machine between my legs was arousing, to say the least. Coupled with the warmth of his back, the stability of his core, and the way his long hair tickled my cheek when the wind caught it just right—it ignited a need I hadn’t felt in a while. By the time he pulled into the parking lot in front of my apartment building, I was so turned on, it took every bit of concentration for me not to completely embarrass myself.
