Your Neighborhood Biker: The Neighborhood #7 by Tarrah Anders

Author:Tarrah Anders [Anders, Tarrah]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Tarrah Anders, LLC

Chapter Nine

Friday evening arrives and I’m nervously folding up the sleeve of a button-down shirt that I’m borrowing from my brother. I’m taking Nydia to a nice restaurant that Percy suggested for a first official date in Hollybrooke and I’m nervous as fuck.

I haven’t been on a real date in years, and being in Mercy, being around Nydia makes me want to do things that I don’t normally do.

I want to woo her properly, not just take her back to my place and fuck her then send her on her way like any previous women that I hung out with back home.

I want to impress her with little known facts about random shit, when before there would be little to no conversation.

And I want to see her over and over again. I want to be involved in a relationship with her. I want to hold her hand, I want her to call me if she needs something and I sure as shit want to be a good man for her.

From the moment that I saw her, as soon as I sat down in the diner that first night, I had a feeling that there was something there that was more than a fleeting thought. She was going to mean something to me and I’m going to mean something to her.

She parks her car in front of Micah’s apartment and as soon as I hear her door slam, I meet her out on the sidewalk.

She looks beautiful. She has her long hair swept up in the type of buns that ballerinas wear that accents the length of her neck decorated with a single gold chain with a small pendant. She wears a maroon flowy dress that’s cut just below her knees, contrasts perfectly with her light mocha skin tone showing off her strong shoulders, and makes way to her defined arms. Her lips are coated with lipstick to match her dress, that I want to mess up in all of the best ways. When she smiles, all my first date jitters go away and I feel at ease, as if this is our hundredth date and we know one another inside and out.

I approach her slowly while I take in every single inch of her. She twirls her car keys on her finger with her hand on her hip and a smirk on her face.

“Well, well, well. Someone sure knows how to clean up,” she says after whistling.

“Only for special occasions. You look beautiful.” I say while I place my hands on both sides of her hips.

“I am. But I do have to ask,” she begins nervously while looking past my shoulder, “we’re not going to the city on your motorcycle, are we?”

I turn and look at my bike and return to her with a playful smile. “I thought that you would enjoy the ride?”

“I didn’t get all dressed up to get on the back of your bike,” she returns.

“Don’t worry, we’re driving in a vehicle, I wouldn’t want to risk you getting bugs in your teeth.

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