Biker Blues: Morgan (Biker Blues Book 1) by Mayer Dale & Lyons Tasha

Author:Mayer, Dale & Lyons, Tasha [Mayer, Dale]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Tags: Fiction
ISBN: 9781928122630
Publisher: Valley Publishing
Published: 2015-12-08T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 11

Jazz woke up to the sound of kids playing and dogs barking.

She lay in place for a long moment enjoying the cheerful chaos. This is what she wanted. Peace, quiet, and that whole happy family thing.

She wanted a man who would stay by her. Single parenting wasn’t her thing.

For a long time, she figured parenting wasn’t her thing. She’d never had a partner that made her dream of white picket fences and two perfect kids. Until Morgan. She known he’d never stick. He’d been a great ride, but not for a long-term trip. Look where that had gotten her.

Nowhere.

Except with memories.

Her mind was consumed with him. Only him.

Her body trembled at the thought of having him back in her bed. It had been a long cold year. She shuddered. How was it she was in his house, in his bed, and not with him?

She threw back the blankets and sat up slowly, her mind hung up on the possibility of bedding Morgan, knowing it would be short-term only. Could she do that? She wanted to. Without the heartache. She didn’t need that part of it. She’d have to take what she wanted and walk away – just as he did.

Only that wasn’t her.

But it could be. Maybe.

She closed her eyes. She was injured, and all she could think about was going down on the man and tasting him again. He loved it and had always returned the favor. God, they had been a pair of minks. The heaven had lasted for weeks into months and just when she dared to hope for permanency, her world had collapsed.

She straightened and walked to the window and looked out. There were children playing street hockey outside. Such a normal scene. Such a beautiful scene.

She let her gaze turn to the other side. Morgan had the garage doors open and appeared to be cleaning out the inside. Typical. Then that garage was likely to be his man cave. A man cave, Morgan-style. He didn’t need a big screen TV and a well-stocked bar. He needed bike parts and the smell of oil, and tools carefully strewn around the space.

That was heaven for him. She understood. Always had. They talked about her shop, his shop one day down the road. Too early for commitment. Too far away to be more than a dream, but they had talked. They had listened. They had laughed.

She leaned against the window ledge and studied the hilly horizon. The huge lake was only a block away, the waves of blue rippling in the heat. Stunning. She loved this area. Vineyards and sunshine, fruit trees and farmlands.

Hard to believe it was all within a few hours’ drive of the Lower Mainland. But it was, and she’d no plans to leave.

A deep rumble sounded outside. As she watched, a Harley purred down the block. A friend of Morgan’s. She’d met a couple of them but had been treated as she’d been – politely—Morgan’s current flavor of the month. She passed it off, trying not to let it bug her.

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