Until Sadie - Sarah Curtis Page 0,1

entwined popped into his head. His dick hardened, but he wouldn’t take it in hand. Instead, he flipped the water to cold, gritting his teeth as the icy pelts hit his skin.

A small penance until he got Sadie back where she belonged.

Beside him.

Out of the shower, he grabbed his toothbrush and glared at the empty holder as he brushed his teeth.

The bed was cold and vast as he climbed in. He reached for her pillow, wrapping it in his arms and burying his face in it, breathing Sadie in. A poor substitute, but it would have to do.

But only for one night.

Chapter One

Three months prior, Friday, August 7th

Dean always felt a thrill when riding into a new town, and as he turned his bike off Pacific Coast Highway, this one was no exception. Heading inland with the salt and brine of the ocean air whipping through his hair and the sun warming his scalp, he slowed his Harley so he could take in the sights. Gone was the view of bikini-clad bodies, surfers, and families that crowded the beaches as he’d sped down California’s coast. In its stead were the rustic and weathered houses and shops of downtown Huntington Beach. He rode along quaint streets lined with old-fashioned light posts and sidewalks filled with scantily clad people, their flip-flops slapping the pavement as they passed stores and restaurants that catered to a beach community.

He reduced his speed to a crawl as he reached his destination and turned into Pierce’s Garage—a mechanic shop off Main Street. Parking his bike, he kicked down the stand and got off, taking his time to survey the place, noting it did good business. Cars lined the back and side walls and filled all the bays where mechanics busily worked. He didn’t see anyone idly standing around.

Classic rock played from the depths of one of the bays, the music occasionally drowned by the loud blast of impact guns, clanking tools, and revving engines. Sounds he was familiar with—the lullaby he’d fallen asleep to as a child.

“Sweet ride.”

Dean turned at the sound of the gruffly spoken compliment to find a guy—appearing just as rough as his voice with shaggy brown hair and a full beard—approaching, wiping his hands on a red rag smeared with grease stains.

“Thanks.” He took a step to the side so the guy had a better view.

As the man drew near, Dean noted he was a few inches shorter than himself. Not a surprise. Not many men topped his six-four frame.

“Classic with a custom package? That must have set you back a few bucks.”

Dean’s lips quirked. “Just a few.” He waited a beat, then asked, “You know where I can find Ray?”

“You’re looking at him.” The guy’s brow furrowed. “What can I do for you?”

Dean held out his hand. “Name’s Dean Keller. We have a mutual friend. Said the first thing I needed to do when I hit town was look you up.”

Ray tucked the rag into his back pocket before taking Dean’s hand, giving it a firm shake. “Yeah? And who might that friend be?”

“Cobi Mayson.”

“Mayson? Well shit. Why didn’t you start with that?” Ray’s lips split into a broad smile. “Cobi saved my skin more than once when we served together. How do you know him?”

“Our families are close. We played football in school, then we both joined the service together. Though we went our separate ways after boot camp.”

“Army?”

Dean shook his head, knowing he was being tested. “Marines.” He ran a hand through his brown hair that was about two months past due for a haircut. “Miss the three squares but can’t say I miss the buzz cuts.”

Ray laughed, slapping him on the shoulder. “Well, any friend of Cobi’s is a friend of mine. How’s he doing? I haven’t talked to him in… Hell, close to six years.”

“He’s good. Moved back home after getting out of the service. Met some chick. Got married.” Dean internally winced. Hadley would bust his nuts if she heard him call her a chick.

“No, shit? That’s crazy, man.” He ran a palm over his forehead, wiping droplets of sweat. “Let’s go to my office and out of the sun. You can catch me up.”

Dean’s gaze wandered as he followed Ray to the back of the shop, catching the eyes of a few workers. He gave them chin lifts as he passed. All but one returned the gesture—a burly dude covered in tats from the top of his bald head to the sleeves that wrapped his arms.