Copyright © 2024 by GroveltoHEA
Before Max left, I'd told him I'd think about his offer of a ride on Saturday and let him know. I went back and forth on it, talking myself into it and talking myself out of it. It was a lot like playing he loves me, he loves me not with the petals of a daisy. I'll go, I won't go. I want to go, I don't want to go.
After much back-and-forthing, I finally decided to accept a ride on the back of his bike on Saturday. In all honesty, it didn't take much for me to talk myself into it because I'd always wanted to ride on a Harley, and that's the reason I was sticking to. When I'd been confined to the Rampage compound all those months, I'd always pestered Max for a ride on his Harley, but Beard wouldn't allow it. Once, when I'd snapped at Beard about being willing to settle for a ride around the compound, he'd practically thrown me on the back of his bike and had driven me around the clubhouse at about two miles per hour.
"Isn't this great?" he yelled back to me like the jerk he was. "Pretty exciting, right? Nothing like it! Feel that wind in your face! Ooooooo-eeeee!"
Honestly, I got more wind in my face from walking, but he was just being an asshole to make a point. When the extremely short and boring ride had ended, he'd pointed a finger at me and told me to stop complaining.
"Deal with your current limitations and restrictions. You needed to be somewhere safe, and you are, so shut it. Now get inside the clubhouse."
"Why didn't we at least go on the riding track, Beard?" I'd asked him curiously as we walked toward the clubhouse.
"Right. I'm tasked with protecting you, and I'm going to let you tear around on a track on the back of bike? Now, any more stupid questions or can I get back to work?"
He didn't wait for my answer, and just stalked ahead of me into the clubhouse. Later that night, when Max got home from work and we were at his place, I'd told him about the slowest Harley ride in the world. Max had told me Beard was being a dick because a woman he liked and was hooking up with hadn't shown up at the bar for a few days.
I'd finally texted Max on Friday night after plucking all the virtual daisies in the world.
OK. What time tomorrow?
His response was immediate: 8am wear jeans boots sweatshirt
Sometimes I wondered if someone had told Max that punctuation and conjunctions in texts cost extra.
"Where are we going?" I asked Max when he showed up early on Saturday morning.
He grinned a rare Max grin. "If you're up for a long day and a long ride, I have a place in mind. It can be cut back or changed at any point, but the destination's about three hours away in Quincy, right on the border. They're having a tulip festival there, and I remember you said you like tulips. We can stop along the way a couple times, let you stretch your legs. 'Bout an hour from here is a great diner if you can wait that long for breakfast."
"I can wait. New seat?" I asked dryly, indicating the back of his bike.
"Yeah. Bought this one because it has a back, so thought it'd be more comfortable for you for the long ride. Also got you a helmet," he said, pulling it out of a saddlebag. "If it doesn't fit, Genny's got one we can swing by and borrow."
He placed it on my head and adjusted the strap, checking the fit critically.
"How's it feel? Genny helped me pick it out. That's why it's got sparkly shit all over it."
"Feels fine," I said, biting back a smile at sparkly shit.
Genny was known as the Rampage idiot whisperer. She'd told me once it was because Chain was the first officer of the MC to get married, and the officers and brothers defaulted to her when they were having trouble with their women.
YOU ARE READING
The Rampage MC #4: Max and Briony
RomanceI was supposed to be protecting her. Instead, I left her to help my former girlfriend. And she was badly hurt on my watch. Now, she won't talk to me and I can't get to her for a year. I'll work the rest of my life to regain her trust, earn her forgi...
