Riding Hard (Hell Ryders MC Book 4) Read online

  The entire week, she spent lots of time talking to parents and relatives of her students. They’d wanted to meet her, and she’d wanted to meet them too. By Thursday, Alexa felt somewhat settled, except for the fact that with meeting parents and relatives, she hadn’t had much time to review her students’ work and ream out her contractor who’d been a no-show Monday morning and hadn’t bothered answering her calls until the end of the week.

  Now, it was Saturday. Finally. Demolition of her pink bathroom would start. Her contractor had answered her fifth call, a call she made late afternoon Friday. He’d given her a lousy excuse as to why he hadn’t shown Monday, an excuse she didn’t believe, but in an effort to get him to do the work, she accepted it.

  Since her contractor claimed he’d start demo at seven Saturday morning, she’d set her alarm for six. Waking at that time, she drank coffee while she finished her lesson plan for the following week. Then she showered, brushed her teeth, and dressed casually wearing an old tee and shorts. While waiting for a knock on her door, she settled on an armchair beside one of her front windows reviewing students’ work.

  An hour after her contractor said he’d show and hadn’t, she grabbed her phone, dialed his number, and brought it to her ear. When the second call went unanswered, she left a message. Not the second, third, or fourth time her contractor had been unreliable. Before she’d moved in, three delays for various reasons, twice he’d miscalculated costs for her kitchen and master bath remodel, and earlier that week, he hadn’t shown or called and hadn’t answered her calls. All of it cost her money, time, and unneeded stress. Naturally, by this point, she was so frustrated she put serious thought into demolishing the bathroom herself. A bad idea, so she decided to do something that managed to calm the worst of her moods.

  She loved baking and did often, but she didn’t let herself eat more than a few cookies. They’d go straight to her butt, which was already rather large. She baked from scratch and always got lost in the process. This time around, she made her favorite, chocolate chip cookies. Done by noon and still her contractor hadn’t shown or called, so she grabbed a plate of cookies, a book, strode outside, and sat on her porch swing. It was old and needed to be refinished, but it worked. Angling herself with her back pressed against the armrest, she kicked her feet up, placing the cookies on her lap, parted her book, and read.

  She’d read close to fifty pages and ate three of the five cookies when she caught sight of something from the corner of her eye. Turning her head, she spotted the van parking in front of her house. Seeing the man climbing out, her cheeks heated. She threw her legs off, slammed her book shut, set it and the cookies side by side on the swing then walked toward the steps leading onto her porch. Her contractor, Sam, met her there.

  “Hey.”

  She crossed her arms over her chest and quirked a brow. “Hey?” Sparing a glance at her watch, she then met his stare. “You’re six hours late, without so much as a call, all the while ignoring my calls and message, and ‘hey’ is all you have to say?”

  His eyes narrowed. “I don’t have time for this. Not today.”

  She had the impression if she were a man, he’d at the very least have the courtesy to explain. Sometimes, she really hated being a woman. Sometimes, she really hated being her. Every man, with the exception of her father and Tim, disappointed her.

  She dropped her arms to her sides and fisted her hands. “And I don’t have time to wait around.”

  He looked her up and down, locked eyes with her. Then his face grew hard. “Probably why you’re still single.”

  That stung. Not as much as the fact that she disgusted her neighbor, but it wounded her enough she felt the color fade from her face. It shouldn’t hurt. Sam was in his mid-thirties but looked mid-forties, and he was undependable and most importantly, a jerk. As far as she could tell, he, too, was unattached. Then again, an unmarried man was a bachelor, considered to be single because he wanted to be. An unmarried woman was an old maid, single because no one wanted her. A lot of good women were single because it took a lot more than being nice or pretty or smart to find someone to share your life with. She knew this, and still, she couldn’t help the ache that sliced through her chest, so she looked away to compose herself and laid eyes on him, the man she thought about for days because of the expression on his face when he’d looked at her.

  She hadn’t seen him since, but now, he stood just outside his front door wearing a pair of jeans and that leather vest, staring her way.

  Fantastic.

  She had more to say to her contractor, but no way she’d let Sam continue to insult her, and no way in hell she’d let him step foot inside her house. It meant she’d do something she’d never done before—walk away without having her say.

  She blanketed the emotion from her face. “Sam, I appreciate everything you’ve done so far, but this is where our business relationship ends.”

  She turned and took a step before she heard his shout.

  “Fuck you, you stupid bitch. I gotta fuckin’ life. Don’t have time for your shit. I wanted someone nagging me, I’d get married.”

  He kept yelling, making a scene, but she strode inside, closed and locked her door then blasted her music player. She sat on her living room floor and listened to music mindlessly.

  When she felt it safe to go outside, she did. On her porch swing, she found her book and an empty plate.

  Chapter Three

  Piece of work. Dodge knew it. The whole town did.

  Dodge didn’t know from personal experience. He’d remodeled his home with the help of his brothers and never had use for a contractor, but he heard stories of how that asshole dragged repairs on for weeks, sometimes longer, charging extra for labor and non-existent repairs. He didn’t know the magnitude of dick until that afternoon when that asshole said all that shit to her.

  The look on that beautiful face of hers tore right through him. Knowing the stories, he figured the guy had probably bilked her out of thousands. She didn’t look like she was swimming in it, alone with no man in that house in a new town. He wanted to beat that bastard until the guy was blue in the face, apologized, and gave her what he owed her.

  Dodge spotted the contractor working on the property months ago. He’d thought the guy bought it himself and planned to flip it. Never had he imagined the idiot found some unsuspecting woman to dupe.

  It made him feel like shit, more so than he felt already. A week ago, he’d been a grade A asshole. He’d been pissed because Cullen shouldn’t have been crossing the street by himself and his boy kept doing it. This time, he couldn’t blame the kid.

  With her hair that strawberry blonde, no one could miss her. Moth to flame, except everyone was a moth and she, the flame.

  Never had he seen hair like that. From one look, even the way she had it in a messy knot at the top of her head, he knew it was long and thick. A strange desire came over him, one he never had, not in thirty-three years, but he wanted with every fiber in his body to run his fingers through her hair.

  He’d looked at her real good. A mistake he regretted to that day since then he’d realized it wasn’t just the hair but all of her.

  She stood at about five-foot-five, the perfect height, meaning she could wear the highest heels and he’d still be taller. Her legs long, hips wide, waist tiny, and her chest was a good size, a C easy.

  When his gaze landed on her face, he’d been speechless, in utter awe of how a woman could be so flawless. Her eyes clear, ice blue, cheeks rosy, and lips full. The knowledge of just how gorgeous she was cemented when his stare landed on the freckles sprinkled across the bridge of her nose that proved she wore no makeup though she looked ready for a photoshoot.

  He thought about calling all the major news agencies to tell them he found the perfect woman, but that was just stupid and fucked. Men from around the world would line up in front of his house, and he wasn’t a masochist to make himself watch that shit play out.

  Still, in the back of his mind, he knew
he’d watch it happen regardless. The men in town, some of them his brothers, would notice her, want her, and do everything and anything to try to have her.

  He had no chance. He never got the girl. He was Dodge, the guy women dodged. Besides, he was a single dad to a three-year-old who was his life because his boy needed him to be. He didn’t have time for women.

  What had he done? He’d been a dick, took himself out of the game, so then he could blame himself instead of her.

  None of it made him want to beat that contractor’s ass any less.

  The front door parted. He knew who it’d be, so he turned and smiled. Cullen walked toward him and wrapped his arms around his thighs.

  He dropped his hands to his son’s back, holding him against him. “Hey, you have fun?”

  Cullen pulled away, nodded, and then looked up at him. A dark smear around his mouth, no doubt chocolate.

  “What’d you eat?”

  His boy didn’t respond. Then again, it was a long shot. Cullen had never said much. It got worse when his mother left. He hardly ever spoke now and seemed withdrawn. Dodge took him to a speech therapist once a week. It hadn’t helped yet. He had hope, but honest to God, he was scared shitless.

  “Want to watch a movie with your old man, tonight?”

  Cullen looked over his shoulder toward the front door and met his gaze.

  “Want to play outside?”

  He shook his head.

  Dodge bent down, draping an arm around his son’s back. “Tell me what you want to do, and we’ll do it.”

  Cullen dropped his head. After several moments, he lifted it. “Pretty. Lady.”

  The first words he heard his son say in more than a week. Thrilling. Even if what his kid wanted presented a problem, he smiled. “You want to see the pretty lady?”

  Cullen grinned and nodded.

  “Cul, I don’t know…”

  The smile faded from his son’s face.

  His chest constricted, a too-familiar ache knotted his stomach. “Okay, bud.”

  He didn’t know how he’d manage this, but he gave in because quite frankly, he’d give his left nut to make his boy happy.

  Cullen grinned.

  “We’ll go welcome her to the neighborhood,” he decided on the spot. “Can’t go empty-handed though, so we gotta run to the store.”

  He’d buy her wine. She looked like the type that drank that shit. He’d give it to her and apologize. Maybe then, he wouldn’t feel like such a dick.

  ****

  Alexa spent the day reading. She had a lot to do. Namely, she still had boxes to unpack, but her day, starting with waiting all morning for her contractor, had been a bust, so she decided to bury her mind in a book. Forget drowning in alcohol and waking with a hangover, reading was the best medicine. She wouldn’t let herself think that by this point in her life she thought she’d be reading baby books. That afternoon further proved she was right to give up that dream.

  A knock sounded on the front door. She slammed her book closed and straightened, pulling herself away from the backrest of her blue armchair.

  The knock came again.

  She set the book aside, got to her bare feet, and headed for the door. Looking through the peephole, she froze. There he stood looking more beautiful than she remembered, knocking on her door.

  God, why was he there? Had she done something else to upset him? He didn’t look angry. Brows furrowed, he looked…worried? What the hell was she supposed to do? Answer the door, maybe? She didn’t want to. She didn’t want to stare at his too handsome face, didn’t want to see that repulsion in his eyes.

  The knock came again, louder.

  Her hand went to her chest taking several steps away. Heart racing, she ran a hand through her hair and thanked her lucky stars she’d put the book aside to shower, not that it mattered anyway.

  She threw open the door and immediately realized he wasn’t alone. His right hand rested on his son’s shoulder.

  Cullen, standing in front of his father, looked adorable wearing a pair of boots, jeans, t-shirt, and a skully. He also looked thrilled, smiling wide.

  Her gaze locked on him, she grinned. “Good evening, Cullen, right?”

  Cullen nodded.

  “It’s nice to meet you officially, Cullen.”

  She then managed the strength to tear her stare away and meet his father’s. He hadn’t looked mad before, but now, he did. A vein in his neck pulsed. Her smile faded.

  “I’m Cullen’s dad, Dodge.”

  The most beautiful man’s name was Dodge? Unusual, but she suspected that wasn’t his real name.

  “Alexa.”

  “Lex,” Cullen murmured.

  She caught sight of Dodge’s eyes widening. Ignoring that, she tilted her head down. “Yep, that’s right. My friends call me Lex.”

  Dodge cleared his throat and lifted his left arm. A gift bag in his grip, a bottle of wine peeking out, he held it out to her. “We got you something to welcome you to the neighborhood.”

  “Really?” Taken back, she actually said that aloud.

  She’d never expected a biker to welcome her to the neighborhood. A biker’s wife? Maybe, though she was almost positive he didn’t have a wife. She tried not to look across the street and notice things, but she did and had. One of the things she learned—not a single woman had come and gone from that home.

  After last week, she never expected this biker to welcome her to the neighborhood. Only natural she’d been shocked to find him at her door handing over a welcoming gift. Still, she shouldn’t have sounded surprised because it was rude.

  She cringed. “I mean… Sorry, I didn’t mean to sound…” She took a deep breath and grabbed the bag. “I meant to say that’s nice. Thank you.”

  Face heating, she looked to Cullen and tried to lighten the mood. “I bet this was your idea, huh?”

  The boy’s eyes widened just briefly as his cheeks flushed a rosy shade.

  “And I know just how to repay you. If it’s okay with your dad, I’ll give you some chocolate chip cookies. My way of saying thanks. They’re fresh. I baked them today.”

  Cullen angled his head back to his dad, hopeful though she noticed he didn’t say anything. She looked up at his father.

  Dodge met her gaze. “That’d be nice.”

  “Great. Come on in.” She parted the door wider, moving out of the way.

  They walked inside.

  She closed the door, led them toward the back end of the house, and placed the bottle of wine on her counter. “Sorry about the mess. Just moved in.”

  Dodge chuckled. “Can’t tell.”

  “You can have a seat on the couch if you’d like.” She strode into her kitchen, grabbed a small platter, and set several cookies on it. “Would you like something to drink?”

  “Milk for Cul.”

  In one hand, she grabbed a glass of wine and a cup of milk. Between her forearm and stomach, she held a beer, and in her other hand, she carried the plated cookies. When she strode into her living room, he spoke.

  “Shit. Let me help you with that.” He clutched the beer and milk, his fingers grazing her stomach as he did.

  Then something that had never happened to her did. With that simple touch, heat spread through her. She shuddered and prayed like hell he hadn’t noticed. She took a chance and tilted her head to meet his stare.

  His eyes on hers, brows furrowed, chin cocked to the side. At least he didn’t look disgusted.

  Her cheeks flushed. Being so fair-skinned, he’d be able to tell immediately, so in an attempt to hide it, she looked away.

  “Sorry, didn’t mean to.”

  “It’s fine,” she replied too quickly.

  “Didn’t ask for a beer, but thanks.”

  Her mother taught her how to be a good host. Whether he drank the beer or not, she couldn’t get Cullen something to drink and not his father.

  She set the cookies and wine on the coffee table then sat on her blue armchair, allowing him to sit next to C
ullen on her love seat. He did and managed to make it look small. Her gaze shot to his thighs, which looked more like trunks. Her line of sight blocked when Cullen reached for a cookie and bit into it. She watched his reaction. Smiling, he nabbed another.

  “You’ve done a lot of work.”

  She dragged her stare from Cullen, grabbed her wine, and sipped. “Technically, I didn’t do any of the real work.”

  “You pick the colors?”

  She met his eyes. Those eyes, so rich, so dark… That face… Darn, what had he asked?

  She nodded. “Why?”

  He shrugged and took a pull of his beer. “Looks nice. Just didn’t expect a woman to pick blue. It’s kind of a masculine color.”

  What? Was blue designated for men only? Girls liked blue. Wait. Her house was masculine? How? Where? Yes, she had a blue armchair. Her rug had some blue. An accent wall in her living room was blue, and there was a bit of blue on her backsplash in the kitchen.

  She didn’t think he’d come to her house with a bottle of wine to insult her, but who knew. Further, she didn’t know what to say to that, so she said nothing, just focused on Cullen who’d rammed a third cookie into his mouth and looked like he was having the time of his life.

  “So are you gonna do more work?”

  She snapped her head up.

  Dodge leaned forward, grabbed a cookie, and popped it in his mouth. He chewed then muttered, “Damn, this is amazing. You made this?”

  She would’ve been thrilled to hear that except he sounded shocked like he doubted she could’ve made them.

  “Yes, from scratch.”

  His brows drew together. “Really?”

  Why that was unbelievable, she had no clue but couldn’t help feel offended. She wanted to tell him where to shove it, but his adorable son sat there smiling, so she held her tongue, took a deep breath, and responded, “Yes, really.”

  “Fuckin’ amazing.”

  There he went again—cursing in front of his son. Maybe that’s why the boy rarely spoke. All he heard were curse words he knew he shouldn’t say.

  “So what else are you doing here?”

  “I teach.”