Protector of the Mountain - Frankie Love Page 0,1

against the wall, but Jasper knows me too well. I’d never do that to a buddy.

Just then, a group of three bikers enter the bar, two women with them. The men are in leather, growling about getting drinks, hands grabbed tight to the women as if they are their property. Their jackets are all wet, and I’m guessing they stopped here to get off the slick roads.

We don’t see folks like this in Fox Hollow too often. When it comes to trouble, we’re usually dealing with meth heads who think these woods are good for cooking up their trash. They’re wrong.

These bikers are wrong too if they think Fox Hollow is a place where they should be doing anything other than passing through. The way they hold their women possessively close to them is strike one. Strike two is how they talk to Jodie, demanding drinks. I don’t like it, and neither does Jasper. We both size the men up, seeing what we’re really dealing with.

“What are you staring at?” one of the men growls at me.

“I’m making sure we don’t have any problems here,” I say, my voice flat.

“You don’t,” he says with a laugh. “We’re not here for trouble. We’re here celebrating.”

“Celebrating what?” Jasper asks.

The man sticks his thumb behind him, pointing to someone I can’t see. Her back is to us. “It’s her twenty-first birthday.”

Jodie frowns. “I need to see some ID.”

As the woman turns toward Jodie, I see her face.

And my heart fucking stops. She’s in a pale pink dress, to her knees. Dark brown hair, long and wavy, to her hips. Eyes the color of a thunderstorm. Dark grey with flecks of light. Lightning striking through a cloud.

Hell, she’s striking something within me, too.

“It’s your birthday?” I ask, stepping toward her. Captivated.

She lowers her eyes, lifts her chin. Gives me the softest, sweetest smile I’ve ever seen in my whole damn life.

“Yes, it is,” she says with a voice airy and light, as if it might slip away. There are a few men and women around her, clearly a group intending on celebrating.

“Can I buy you a drink?” I ask, knowing I cannot let this woman walk away without trying. Jasper coughs, clearly surprised. He’s never seen me make a move in my life. It’s not that I couldn’t — it’s that I wouldn’t unless I knew it was meant to be.

The woman looks over at the man she’s with. “Can he?”

I clench my jaw, not liking the way she asks this man for permission.

Then he shrugs. “It’s your night, Cinderella. But come midnight, you better be at the carriage.”

The woman smiles. I can’t get a read on their relationship.

“You better not touch my sister, understood?” he says, looking at me.

The woman’s smile turns down, her eyes darkening. “It’s my birthday, Tim. I can do what I want.”

Tim grunts. “Midnight. The clock’s ticking, princess.” Then he takes his beer from Jodie and grabs the other woman by the hips.

This woman turns to the girl I want and blows her a kiss. “Don’t be stupid.”

“I won’t be, Carly-Anne.”

Then Tim, the brother, pulls Carly-Anne over to the shitty ass dance floor.

And I’m alone with Jasper, this woman, and Jodie.

“I’m Reed,” I say as she fishes something out of her purse.

“I’m Rainey. That’s my brother and his girlfriend.” She starts to hand her ID to Jodie, then decides against it. She looks up at me with eyes filled with longing. “Actually, I don’t want to drink.”

“No? What do you want?”

Biting her bottom lip, she looks at her watch, then over her shoulder at her brother and his biker gang. “I have a few hours of freedom,” she says. “How about we get out of here?”

Rainey

Reed is big. Bigger than my brother Tim, which means something. It means if my brother tries to take him, it will be a good, honest fight. But Reed is also belly flip-flopping, heart-pounding, pussy-melting, core-achingly handsome.

The kid of handsome I’ve read about. Written about, too. Though, it’s probably pretty bad. When I’ve attempted to write, it is mostly my pent-up fantasies after devouring one too many romances on my Kindle. It’s my one and only luxury in this world, a device slim enough that I can fit it in a coat pocket, but big enough to make my mind race with possibilities. Besides, Tim refuses to let me have a phone. He says since he is the club president, and I’m his only family, I don’t need to be setting a bad example.